First look at the “Unseen Arkham Prisoner” (Joker) in ‘The Batman’🤡
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gothmite.
ᴳᴼᵀᴴᴬᴹ 𝗶𝘀 ᵃ ᶜᶦᵗʸˢᶜᵃᵖᵉ 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 ; ᵂᴱ͟ ͟ all ᴷ͟ᴺ͟ᴼ͟ᵂ , ᵈᶦˢᵖᵒˢᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵈᵃʳˡᶦⁿᵍˢ ˢᶜᵃᵗʰᵉᵈ ᵇʸ 𝐇𝐄𝐑 ᴰᴬᴿᴷ ᶠˡᵃᵐᵉˢ , ˢᵉʷⁿ ʷᶦᵗʰ ˡᵒᵒˢᵉ ᵗʰʳᵉᵃᵈˢ STAINED ᵒᶠ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ 𝗗𝗘𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗔𝗕𝗟𝗘 𝗗𝗢𝗟𝗟 𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗦. 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐘𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒 ᵃʳᵉⁿ ’ ᵗ ʷᵒʳᵗʰ ᵃ ᵗʰᶦⁿᵍ ᶦⁿ 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝒐𝒇 ᵈᵒᵘˢᵉᵈ 𝗣𝗘𝗧𝗥𝗢𝗟 & ⁿᵉᵒⁿ 𝗚𝗢𝗥𝗘 , ᵐᵃʸᵇᵉ 𝙞 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒐𝒕 ᵗᵒᵒ —— ᴮᴱᵀᵂᴱᴱᴺ 𝖺̲𝗅̲𝗅̲ ᵀᴴᴬᵀ ᶠˡᵉˢʰʸ , ᵀᴬᴺᴳᴵᴮᴸᴱ 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗪𝗔𝗩𝗘𝗦 of 𝗛𝗢𝗥𝗥𝗢𝗥 , [ ᴿᴱᴺᴱᴱ ‘ 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚢𝚊 ’ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᶦⁿ ] ʲᵘˢᵗ ʰᵒʷ 𝖲𝖠𝖢𝖱𝖤𝖣 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐈𝐒 . “ ˢᵒʳʳʸ , 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇. 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 ʲᵘˢᵗ ᴮᴱᴱᴺ ᵃ ᵂᴴᴵᴸᴱ —— 𝑖 - ᶦ ᵀ̳ᴴ̳ᴼ̳ᵁ̳ᴳ̳ᴴ̳ᵀ i 𝙜𝙤𝙩 ᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᶦˢ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ - - - ( ᴰᴱᴱᴾ 𝖲𝖨𝖦𝖧 , ᴱᴺᵀᴵᴿᴱ 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 ˢʰᶦᵛᵉʳᶦⁿᵍ 𝗅𝗂���𝖾 𝚊 𝐖𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐆 ) 𝗡𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗧𝗢𝗡 , ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ 𝑜𝑓 𝐆𝐎𝐃 … ” ᴾᵁᴸᴸ 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ. [ ᴺᴼ , ʲᵘˢᵗ ᶦ ’ ᵐ here, 𝚊̲𝚕̲𝚕̲𝚎̲𝚗̲. ] relax , 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 ᵃ ᴶᴼᴮ to 𝒅𝒐. ᴬᴸᴸᴱᴺ ˢᵃʸˢ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰᶦⁿᵍ ᶦ ʷᶦˡˡ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᶠᵒʳᵍᵉᵗ , ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰᶦⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵏᶦˢˢᵉˢ ᵗʰᵉ shell ᵒᶠ ᵐʸ ᵉᵃʳ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ 𝐀𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 ᶦˢ ᵀᴼᴼ ˡᵃᶻʸ ᵗᵒ ᵏᶦᶜᵏ ᵐʸ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ᶦⁿᵗᵒ ᵃ ˡᵒʷ ᶠˡʸᶦⁿᵍ 𝗣𝗔𝗡𝗜𝗖 𝗔𝗧𝗧𝗔𝗖𝗞 :
“ 𝒊 ᵍᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘ , 🇲🇴🇳🇹🇴🇾🇦 , ᶦᵗ ’ ˢ ˡᶦᵏᵉ ,
𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐍'𝐓 ʷ͟ᵉ͟ do ᵀᴼ 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 ?”
𝗠𝗢𝗢𝗡𝗘𝗬 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧𝗬, 𝟏𝟎:𝟑𝟖 𝗔𝗠.
ʸᵒᵘ 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 ᵃ ˢᵗᵒᵐᵃᶜʰ ᶠᵒʳ this kind ᵒᶠ 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄, ᴬ ᴳᵁᵀ 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 scars ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃ ᵃᵇʸˢˢ underneath ᵀᴴᴱ ᶠᵃᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇʳᵃʷⁿ , 𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐒 : ʸᵒᵘ 𝗁͟𝖺͟𝗏͟𝖾 ᵀᴼ ᴮᴱ just ᵃˢ 𝗙𝗨𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗗. 𝙞 ’ ᵐ ᴸᴬᵀᴱ ; ᵀᴵᴹᴱ 𝐢𝐬 ᴴᴬᴺᴳᴵᴺᴳ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵐʸ ᴮᴿᴼᵂ ᴵᴺ 𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗮𝘁 ᴸᴵᴷᴱ ᵐᵒˡᵗᶦⁿᵍ ˢᵏᶦⁿ and ᵐ̲ʸ̲ 𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐎 ᶦˢ ˢᵒᵘⁿᵈᶦⁿᵍ ᵒᶠᶠ ˡᶦᵏᵉ ᵃ ᵐᵃⁿᶦᶜ cub scout, ¹⁰ ⁻ 𝟏̲𝟑̲ : 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏. ᴴᴱᴸᴸ ᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᴰ̲ᴼ̲ᴵ̲ᴺ̲ᴳ , GORDON. ᶜᵃʳ ˢʷᵉʳᵛᵉˢ ˡᶦᵏᵉ ᵃ 𝚂𝚃𝚄𝙽𝚃 𝙳𝙾𝚄𝙱𝙻𝙴'𝚂 ᶠᶦⁿᵃˡ ᵗʳᶦᶜᵏ ᴬᴺᴰ ᶦ ᵃᵐ ˢᵐᵃᶜᵏᵈᵃᵇ ᶦⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᶦᵈᵈˡᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᴴᴬᴿᴿᴼᵂᴵᴺᴳ ᵐᵃᵏᵉˢʰᶦᶠᵗ ᴴᴬᴸᴸᴼᵂᴱᴱᴺ ˢᵉᵗˢ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐊 ᶦ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ˢᵉᵉⁿ. 𝙼𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙾𝚈𝙰 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙽 look like ᵀᴿᴬᵁᴹᴬ 𝘁𝘄𝗶𝗻𝘀 ᶜᵒⁿʲᵒᶦⁿᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᶦᵖˢ , ᵗʳʸᶦⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˢᵒᵒᵗʰᵉ ᵗʰᵉᵐˢᵉˡᵛᵉˢ, MONTOYA ˢʰᵒᵒᵗˢ ᵃ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵇˡᵉᵉᵈᶦⁿᵍ ᵒᶠ ˢʸᵐᵖᵃᵗʰʸ ˡᶦᵏᵉ ʳᵒᵃᵈᵏᶦˡˡ ᵒⁿ ᶦᵗ ’ ˢ ˡᵃˢᵗ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰ.
BURNING HAIR. PENNIES. EXCREMENT.
ᵀᴴᴱ 𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐬, you ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕.
𝙸𝙼𝙰𝙶𝙸𝙽𝙴 𝙼𝚈 𝚂𝚄𝚁𝙿𝚁𝙸𝚂𝙴, ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ’ ˢ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰᶦⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵗᶦˡˡ ᶜʳᵃʷˡ ᶦⁿᵗᵒ ᵐʸ ᶠʳᵒˢᵗᵇᶦᵗ ᵛᵉᶦⁿˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵒⁿᵈˡᵉ ᵐʸ ᶜᵃᵖᶦˡˡᵃʳᶦᵉˢ ʷᶦᵗʰ 𝑨𝑵𝑿𝑰𝑬𝑻𝒀, make ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵖᶦˢˢ stench ᵛᵘˡⁿᵉʳᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ᴵᴺ ᵐʸ 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝖼𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗇 𝘰𝘧 ᵃ ᶜᵃᵛᶦᵗʸ. [ 𝐉𝐄𝐒𝐔𝐒. ] ᵐʸ ᶠᵘᶜᵏᶦⁿᵍ surprise. LIKE ᴬ ᶠʳᵉᶦᵍʰᵗ 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍, ᵐʸ ᵉⁿᵗʳᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᶦˢ ᴸᴼᵁᴰ and 𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒕, ᴳᴼᴿᴰᴼᴺ is tapped ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶦⁿⁿᵃᵗᵉ ᴴᴼᴿᴿᴼᴿ, 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐌 ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ.
“ 𝑮𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑶𝑵 , ᶦ - 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌 ? ᵃ ᴷᴵᴰ ?”
𝙶𝙲𝙿𝙳: 𝙽𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙷 ��𝚁𝙴𝙲𝙸𝙽𝙲𝚃, 𝙴𝙰𝚂𝚃 𝙴𝙽𝙳. 11:32 AM. 𝗗𝗧. 𝗖𝗟𝗘𝗠𝗠𝗢𝗡𝗦: ❝ ᵂᴬᴸᴷᴱᴿ, listen... ᴵ ᴷᴺᴼᵂ 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 is ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᴴᴬᴿᴰ... ᵗʳᵘˢᵗ ᴹᴱ, ᴵ ᴰᴼ... ᴮᵁᵀ ᴬᴿᴱ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵘʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ 𝘊𝘈𝘕'𝘛 ᴿᴱᴹᴱᴹᴮᴱᴿ anything ᴬᴮᴼᵁᵀ 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 ᵍᵘʸ ? ᵂᴱ ᵂᴬᴺᴺᴬ ᴳᴱᵀ 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 creep ᵒᶠᶠ ᵀᴴᴱ ˢᵗʳᵉᵉᵗˢ. ᴹᴬᴷᴱ ˢᵘʳᵉ ᴴᴱ 𝗰𝗮𝗻'𝘁 ᴴᵁᴿᵀ 𝐚𝐧𝐲 one ᵉˡˢᵉ, ᴮᵁᴰ. anyth —— ❞ ᵀᴴᴱ 𝘊𝘓𝘖𝘊𝘒 strikes 10, ᴬᴺᴰ ᴬ ᵂᴼᴹᴬᴺ 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨. 〝 ᴴᴱ ᵂᴼᴿᴱ ᴬ 𝗺͟𝗮͟𝘀͟𝗸. [ 𝙰 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝙺? 𝚆𝙷𝙰-𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙳 𝙾𝙵 𝙼𝙰𝚂--- ] ᴴᴱ 𝘀𝗮𝗶𝗱 ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ my ᴬᴺᴳᴱᴸ. ᴴᴱ ᴸᴵᴷᴱᴰ ᵀᴼ 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 ᴹᴱ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ. ᵐʸ ᵐᵃᵐᵃ ᴬᴺᴰ ᵈᵃᵈ ᴰᴵᴰᴺ’ᵀ 𝗕𝗘𝗟𝗜𝗘𝗩𝗘 ᴹᴱ. ᴴᴱ watched ᴹᴱ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ᵈᵃʸ ᶠʳᵒᵐ 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚 ᵐʸ closet. 〟 ᵀᴴᴱ ᵂᴬᴺᴵᴺᴳ 𝐡𝐚𝐳𝐞 ᵒᶠ TV 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗰 ᵖᵉᵉʳˢ, ᴸᴵᴷᴱ ᵃ ᴺᴼᴿᵀᴴ ˢᵗᵃʳ, ᵀᴴᴿᴼᵁᴳᴴ ᵗʰᵉ 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, washing ᵗʰᵉ ᴹᴬᴰ⁻ᴴᴼᴹᴱ ᴵᴺ ᵇˡᵃᶜᵏ ᴬᴺᴰ 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛 / ᵗʰᵉ 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒅 panting ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵃˢᵗ, 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 ᶜˡᵒˢᵉ ᴮᴱᴴᴵᴺᴰ ᴵᴺ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴺᴵᴳᴴᵀ, ᴸᴼᴼᴹᴵᴺᴳ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ 𝗻𝗲𝗰𝗸, fangs ᴮᴬᴿᴱᴰ / ᵂᴬᴵᵀᴵᴺᴳ ᵀᴼ 𝐀͟𝐓͟𝐓͟𝐀͟𝐂͟𝐊 .
𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙽𝚄𝙲𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚁 𝙵𝙰𝙼𝙸𝙻𝚈 kneels ᴬᵀ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵉᵉᵗ ᵒᶠ ᴳᴼᴰ, ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒˡᵈ 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒓 ᵒᶠ ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰ transfixed ᴮᴱᵀᵂᴱᴱᴺ ʲᵒˢᵉᵖʰ ᶜᵃʳᵘˢᵒ’ˢ ᵀᴱᴱᵀᴴ, ᵗʰᵉ ᴹᴬᴰ⁻man's 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 ᵀᴴᴱ ᵀᴿᴵᴳᴳᴱᴿ. 〝 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐓. [ 𝙼⁻𝚆𝙷⁻𝙼𝙰𝙰𝙷 ? ] ᴴᴱheHᵉ —— ˢʰᵒʷ ᵀᴴᴱ family ᴴᴼᵂ ᵇᵃᵈˡʸ 𝗗͟𝗔͟𝗗͟𝗗͟𝗬 wants ᵀᴼ live. [ 𝙼𝙵-𝚆𝚄𝙲-𝙺 ... 𝚈-𝙴𝚆 ] ᴼᴴ. looks ᴸᴵᴷᴱ 𝗶𝘁’𝘀 daddy's ᵀᵁᴿᴺ ᵀᴼ ᴾᵁᵀ ᴬ ᴰᴼᴸᴸᴬᴿ ᴵᴺ ᵀᴴᴱ 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙧 jar! HEH, ᴿᴵᴵᴵᴵᴵᴵᴳᴴᵀ... 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆! 〟 ᵀᴴᴱ 𝗕𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗧 ᵖᵘˡˡˢ ᵀᴴᴱ ᵀᴿᴵᴳᴳᴱᴿ, ᴬᴺᴰ 𝘮𝘳𝘴. 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘰 ˢᶜʳᵉᵃᵐˢ. ʲᵒˢᵉᵖʰ’ˢ ᵀᴿᴱᴹᴮᴸᴱᴰ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰ 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐬 ᵘᵖ ˢᵖᵘʳᵗ ᵂᴬᵀᴱᴿ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵃᵖ ᴵᴺ his ᵗᵉᵉᵗʰ ᴬᴺᴰ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴳᵁᴺ, 𝙝𝙞𝙨 ᵂᴵᴸᴰ ᵉʸᵉˢ ᶠᵘˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ ᴬᴺᴰ ᴴᴼᴿᴿᴼᴿ. 〝 ᴬᴴᴱᴴ. ᴼᴴ, ᵂᴱ’ᴿᴱ ᴳᴼᴺᴺᴬ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᴬ 𝒍𝒐𝒕'𝒂 𝗳𝘂𝗻. 〟
𝗪𝗔𝗟𝗞𝗘𝗥 𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗨𝗦𝗢, 𝟳: 〝 ᴴᴱ ᴹᴬᴰᴱ ᵘˢ watch ᵀᴴᴱ 𝗻𝗲𝘄𝘀 ᵂᴵᵀᴴ 𝘩𝘪𝘮 ... [ 𝙲𝙻𝙴𝙼𝙼𝙾𝙽𝚂: 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙽𝙴𝚆𝚂?] ʰᵉ said ᵂᴱ'ᴰ ᴮᴱ 𝗳𝗮𝗺𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒏, ᵗᵒᵒ. 〟
𝗠𝗢𝗢𝗡𝗘𝗬 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧𝗬, 𝙉𝙊𝙒.
〝 ᵀᴴᴱ guys ᴬᴿᴱ ᴳᴼᴺᴺᴬ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ 𝗰𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 ᴼᵁᵀ ᴺᴼᵂ. forensics ˢʷᵉᵖᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ... ᴮᴱᵀᵂᴱᴱᴺ ʸᵒᵘ ᴬᴺᴰ 𝗶, it’s ᴺᴼᵀ ᴸᴼᴼᴷᴵᴺᴳ ᵀᴼᴼ ᴳᴼᴼᴰ. ʷʰᵒᵉᵛᵉʳ this ᶠᵘᶜᵏᵉʳ 𝘪𝘴, 𝙷𝙴’𝚂 𝙲𝙻𝙴𝙰𝙽. ᴰᴵᴰᴺ’ᵀ leave so 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙖𝙨 ᴬ ᴾᴿᴵᴺᵀ. ʸᵒᵘ’ʳᵉ ᵐʸ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᵍᵘʸ ᴼᴺ ᵀᴴᴱ ᶠᵒʳᶜᵉ. ᴵ’ᴹ ᵀᴴᴵᴺᴷᴵᴺᴳ you ᴬᴺᴰ 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐘𝐀 ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ following ˢᵒᵐᵉ ˡᵉᵃᵈˢ ʷᵉ 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 ᵘᵖ, 𝘿𝙍𝙄𝙑𝙀𝙍 ᴬᴺᴰ ᴬᴸᴸᴱᴺ ᵃˡʳᵉᵃᵈʸ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ q͟u͟e͟s͟t͟i͟o͟n͟i͟n͟g ᵗʰᵉ 𝗻𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗯𝗼𝗿𝘀 THIS ᴹᴼᴿᴺᴵᴺᴳ. 𝘪’𝘷𝘦 ᴳᴼᵀ 𝗰𝗹𝗲𝗺𝗺𝗼𝗻𝘀 ᴬᴺᴰ ᴮᴿᴼᵂᴺ ᵂᴵᵀᴴ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴷᴵᴰ. ᵂᴱ ᴺᴱᴱᴰ ᵀ⁻⁻⁻ /𝘽𝙕𝙕𝙕𝙕𝙕-𝘽𝙕𝙕𝙕𝙕-𝙕𝙕𝙕𝙕𝙕/ 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐞 ᴹᴱ ... ᴳᴼᴿᴰᴼᴺ. [ 𝙳𝚃. 𝙲𝙻𝙴𝙼𝙼𝙾𝙽𝚂: 𝙷𝙴𝚈 𝙲𝙷𝙸𝙴𝙵, 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙺𝙸𝙳 𝙵𝙸𝙽𝙰𝙻𝙻𝚈 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙺𝙴. 𝚄𝙷, 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚂𝙰𝙸𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙽𝙴𝙸𝙶𝙷𝙱𝙾𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙰𝚆 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙵𝙰𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚅𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚂𝙴 𝙰𝚃 𝟽𝙰𝙼, 𝚈𝙴𝙰𝙷? ] 𝘀𝗵𝗲 ᴰᴵᴰ. ᵍᵘʸ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᴵᴺ ᴬ ʰᵘʳʳʸ ᴬᴿᴼᵁᴺᴰ 7-7:05 ... [ 𝙳𝚃: 𝙲𝙻𝙴𝙼𝙼𝙾𝙽𝚂: 𝚂𝙸𝚁, 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙺𝙸𝙳 𝚂𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝚂 𝙰 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝙺𝙴𝙳 𝙵𝙴𝙻𝙻𝙰. 𝚆𝙷𝙸𝚃𝙴 𝙵𝙰𝙲𝙴. 𝙻𝙾𝙽𝙶, 𝙳𝙰𝚁𝙺 𝙷𝙰𝙸𝚁. 𝚂𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙵𝙰𝙽𝙶𝚂. 𝙼𝙰𝙳𝙴 ‘𝙴𝙼 𝚆𝙰𝚃𝙲𝙷 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙽𝙴𝚆𝚂 𝙻𝙸𝚅𝙴... 𝚂𝙾𝙾𝙽 𝙰𝚂 𝙸𝚃 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝙳. ] (𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒉) ᴬᴸᴿᴵᴳᴴᵀ. ᴵ’ᴸᴸ ᴳᴱᵀ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵀᴼ ʸᵒᵘ, c͟l͟e͟m͟m͟o͟n͟s. ᴳᴼᴼᴰ 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸. 〟
////////////// 〝 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐲𝐚, ᵇᵘˡˡᵒᶜᵏ. driver, ᶠᵃˡˡ ᴵᴺ. ʸᵒᵘ, ᵀᴼᴼ, ᴬᴸᴸᴱᴺ. 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗻, ᵀᴴᴬᵀ ʷᵃˢ clemmons 𝙊.𝙏.𝙋., ˢᵃʸˢ ᵀᴴᴱ kid's 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 coming ᴬᴿᴼᵁᴺᴰ. ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉʳᵖ ʷᵃˢ ᴵᴺ ᵀᴴᴱ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ ‘round ᵗʰᵉ ᵀᴵᴹᴱ ᵗʰᵉ 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 NEWS ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ, 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵’𝘷𝘦 ᴮᴱᴱᴺ ᴴᴱᴿᴱ even ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 ᴳᴼᵀ ᴴᴼᴹᴱ. [ 𝙳𝚃. 𝙳𝚁𝙸𝚅𝙴𝚁: 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃’𝚁𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚂𝙰𝚈𝙸𝙽’, 𝙲𝙷𝙸𝙴𝙵? ] ᴵ’ᴹ 𝘀𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 ʷʰᵒᵉᵛᵉʳ this ᵍᵘʸ ʷᵃˢ... (sigh) ᴴᴱ ʷᵃˢ ᵀᴼᴿᵀᵁᴿᴵᴺᴳ ᵀᴴᴱᴹ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃˡᵐᵒˢᵗ 9 𝙝͟𝙤͟𝙪͟𝙧͟𝙨. 〟
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𝗠𝗢𝗢𝗡𝗘𝗬 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧𝗬, 𝟵:𝟮𝟮𝗔𝗠.
ᵀᴴᴱ 𝙱𝚄𝚁𝙱𝚂. this 𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 f͟a͟i͟l͟s ᵗᵒ 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦 ᵐᵉ ᵂᴴᴱᴺ ˢʰᵉ ᵖˡᵃʸˢ ᶜᵒʸ: ᴴᴱᴿ 𝙗𝙚𝙨𝙩 ᵏᵉᵖᵗ ˢᵉᶜʳᵉᵗ ᵗᵘᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᴵᴺ ᵀᴴᴬᵀ ˢᵖᵒᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ʲᵘˢᵗ never ᵀᴴᴵᴺᴷ ᵀᴼ ᴸᴼᴼᴷ, ᴴᴵᴰᴰᴱᴺ ᵖᵃˢᵗ ᴬᴸᴸ ᵀᴴᴱ 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡 ᴬᴺᴰ 𝗴𝗮𝗿𝗯𝗮𝗴𝗲 ᴸᴵᴷᴱ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵗʳᵉᵃˢᵘʳᵉ ᵗʳᵒᵛᵉ ᵂᴬᴵᵀᴵᴺᴳ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ discovered. ᵂᴴᴵᵀᴱ 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘵 fences 𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱 ᵇʸ D͟I͟S͟A͟S͟T͟E͟R, 𝙲𝙻𝙴𝙰𝙽-𝙲𝚄𝚃 lawns ᵀᴬᴷᴱᴺ ᶜᵃʳᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵇʸ 𝙲𝙻𝙴𝙰𝙽-𝙲𝚄𝚃 ᴹᴱᴺ, children 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 ᵂᴵᵀᴴ ˢᵗᵒʳᵉ⁻ᵇᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵗᵒʸˢ ᴬᴺᴰ ᴺᴼᵀ ᵀᴴᴱᴵᴿ ᴼᵂᴺ 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴. this ᴹᴵᴳᴴᵀ ᵇᵉ ᵀᴴᴱ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 ᴬᴺᴺ ᴬᴺᴰ 𝗶 ᴬᴿᴱ ᴸᴼᴼᴷᴵᴺᴳ ᶠᵒʳ. 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 ᴳᴼᴼᴰ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᵐ ⁻⁻ ❝ ᴹᴼᴿᴺᴵᴺᴳ, chief. ❞ ᴱᴺᴼᵁᴳᴴ 𝗱𝗮𝘆𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴. 〝 𝙵𝙸𝙴𝙻𝙳𝚂. ˢᵒ, ᵀᴱᴸᴸ ᴹᴱ ... ʷʰᵃᵗ’ᵛᵉ ᵂᴱ ᴳᴼᵀ ? 〟 𝒊 can ˢᵉᵉ ᴵᵀ ᴵᴺ 𝙝𝙞𝙨 ᶠᵃᶜᵉ, ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶜᵒˡᵈ ˢʰᵒᶜᵏ washing ᵒᵛᵉʳ a 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚍 ˢᵗᵃʳᵉ, his 𝒔͟𝒂͟𝒅 ᵉʸᵉˢ ˢᵒᶠᵗˡʸ ᶜᵒᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᴵᴺ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ. ❝ 𝙞 ⁻ i ᵀᴴᴵᴺᴷ ʸᵒᵘ’ᵈ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ʲᵘˢᵗ ˢᵉᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘʳˢᵉˡᶠ, 𝙲𝙷𝙸𝙴𝙵. ❞
ᵗʰᵉʸ ˢᵃʸ ᵀᴴᴱ ʰᵃʳᵈᵉˢᵗ ᵖᵃʳᵗ 𝙞𝙨 ᵗʰᵉ ᴵᴹᴬᴳᴵᴺᴬᵀᴵᴼᴺ: ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᴹᴵᴺᴰ wanders / 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝗳𝗶𝘅𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 ᴼᴺ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳˢ ᵗʰᵉ victims ᵐᵃʸ ʰᵃᵛᵉ 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍, ᵗʰᵉ PAIN ᵗʰᵉʸ ʰᵃᵛᵉ 𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙙 ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ hands ᵒᶠ 𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥, ᵀᴴᴱ ᵖᵘʳᵉ, 𝘂͟𝗻͟𝗮͟𝗱͟𝘂͟𝗹͟𝘁͟𝗲͟𝗿͟𝗮͟𝘁͟𝗲͟𝗱 ᵗᵉʳʳᵒʳ ᵗʰᵃᵗ lies ᵂᴵᵀᴴᴵᴺ ᵃ man's 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜, ᵇᵘᵗ this... 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 is ᴹᴼᴿᴱ 𝗛𝗢𝗥𝗥𝗜𝗙𝗜𝗖 ᵀᴴᴬᴺ 𝘢𝘯𝘺 scenario 𝐢 ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ’ᵛᵉ ᴵᴹᴬᴳᴵᴺᴱᴰ. BODIES ᴸᴵᴺᴱ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐˢ ᴸᴵᴷᴱ 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣 play-things, ᴼᴿᴳᴬᴺ sconces ᴬᴰᴼᴿᴺ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃˡˡˢ ˢᵖˡᵃᵗᵗᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵂᴵᵀᴴ ᴿᴱᴰ. ᵗʰᵉ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈ ᴰᴿᴵᴱᴰ ᵃ ᵗᵃʳʳʸ⁻𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝗺𝗲𝗹𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 ᴵᴺᵀᴼ ᵃ ʸᵒˡᵏʸ 𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒐𝒇𝒇 ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵃʳᵖᵉᵗ. 𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐬 ᵒᶠ ᵍʳᵃʸ ᴹᴬᵀᵀᴱᴿ stick ᵀᴼ ᶜˡᵘᵐᵖˢ ᵒᶠ 𝗵𝗮𝗶𝗿 ᴸᴵᴷᴱ ᴬ ᵂᴬᴰ ᵒᶠ ᵍᵘᵐ ᵂᴬᴵᵀᴵᴺᴳ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ˢᵗᵉᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᴼᴺ, ᵗᵉᵉᵗʰ 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘴 sprinkled ᴬᴸᴼᴺᴳ ᵗʰᵉ ᴮᴸᴼᴼᴰ⁻𝗽𝘂𝗹𝗽. ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ is ᴺᴼᵀ ᴼᴺᴱ 𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙘𝙚 ᵒᶠ this ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ 𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱 ᵇʸ ᵐᵃˢˢᵃᶜʳᵉ.
〝 M͟O͟N͟T͟O͟Y͟A. [𝚈𝙴𝙰𝙷, 𝙲𝙷𝙸𝙴𝙵?]
ᴳᴱᵀ ᴹᴱ 𝙱𝚄𝙻𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺. 〟
ᵐʸ ᵇᵒᵈʸ ᵍᵒᵉˢ ᴺᵁᴹᴮ, ᴬᴺᴰ ᵀᴴᴱ 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙩𝙨 kick ᴵᴺ ᴬᴺᴰ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᴷᴺᴼᵂ ᴵᵀ, ᴵ'ᴹ ᴵᴺ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵃˢᵗᵉʳ ᵇᵉᵈʳᵒᵒᵐ, ᵂᴱᴬᴾᴼᴺ ᴰᴿᴬᵂᴺ ᴬᴺᴰ 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 ᴬᵀ ᵃ 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 ᵀᴴᴬᵀ ᵂᴵᴸᴸ ᴴᴬᵁᴺᵀ ᴹᴱ ᵀᴵᴸᴸ ᵀᴴᴱ day 𝒊 ᴰᴵᴱ. ᴵᵀ ᵗᵃᵏᵉˢ ᵀᴴᴿᴱᴱ ᴹᴱᴺ ᵗᵒ wrestle ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉʳᵖ, ᵗʰᵉ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈʸ 𝒌𝒏𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝘀𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱 ᶠʳᵒᵐ his 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 ᴬᴺᴰ ᵗᵒˢˢᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ side. DRIVER'S 𝘄𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 is ᴼᴺ him, 𝗸𝗻𝗲𝗲 ᵗᵒ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ, ᴬᴺᴰ ᶜᵘᶠᶠˢ ᵗᵒ wrist. ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉʳᵖ ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵘᵖ, 𝗴͟𝗿͟𝗶͟𝗻͟𝗻͟𝗶͟𝗻͟𝗴 ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵉᵃʳ ᵗᵒ ᵉᵃʳ, 𝒉𝒊𝒔 ᴼᴺᴱ front ᵀᴼᴼᵀᴴ 𝙘𝙪𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 ᴵᴺᵀᴼ ᵗʰᵉ ᴿᴵᴾᴱ ˢᶜᵃʳ forming ᴬᵀ ᵗʰᵉ 𝐫𝐢𝐦 ᵒᶠ his ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈʸ, ᵇᵒᵗᵗᵒᵐ ᴸᴵᴾ, ʰᵃˡᶠ ʷᵃʸ ʳᵉᵃᵈʸ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉˡʸ split ᴵᴺ ᵗʷᵒ. 𝒉𝒊𝒔 unfocused ᵉʸᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᴿᴬᵂ ᵂᴵᵀᴴ ᴰᴿᴵᴱᴰ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʰᵒᵘʳˢ ᵒᶠ 𝐬𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠 ᴬᴺᴰ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵗᵉʳ. 𝐢 ᵈʳᵒᵖ ᵐʸ gun, ᴬᴺᴰ ᵍᵃᶻᵉ ᴵᴺᵀᴼ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉʸᵉˢ ᵒᶠ 𝙶𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙰𝙼’𝚂 ᵁᴸᵀᴵᴹᴬᵀᴱ 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 ᴬᴺᴺᴵᴴᴵᴸᴬᵀᴼᴿ. 𝗶 ˢᵗᵃʳᵉ ᴵᴺᵀᴼ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉʸᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒˢᵗ frightened 𝘀𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 ʸᵉᵃʳ ᵒˡᵈ ᵇᵒʸ �� i've ᵉᵛᵉʳ 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝. ❝ 𝔥𝓔hєн𝐀𝐇𝕒𝐡Hah ... 𝐇 -- н𝕖 h𝓔 ᴹᴬᴰᴱ ᴹᴱ ... 𝐡𝐄𝔥...ᴰᴼ ᴵᵀ! hєн ᴹᴬᴰᴱ ᴹᴱ ... 𝐀𝐇𝕒𝐡Ha! ❞ @gothmite .
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jestaid.
𝙸𝙽𝚃. 𝙰𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙴𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃 𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙴, 𝙾𝙻𝙳 𝙶𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙰𝙼. 𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃. 𝙾𝚇𝙸𝙳𝙸𝚉𝙴𝙳 𝙽𝙴𝙴𝙳𝙻𝙴 𝙴𝚈𝙴 𝙲𝙻𝙰𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙾𝙽 𝙴𝚇𝙿𝙾𝚂𝙴𝙳 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙲𝚁𝙴𝚃𝙴, 𝚅𝙸𝚂𝙲𝙸𝙳 &. 𝚁𝙴𝙳: 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙸𝚃 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝙱𝙴 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙳 𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙳𝚁𝚈-𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝙻𝙰𝚄𝙶𝙷𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙾𝙵 𝙰 𝙷𝙴𝙼𝙾𝚁𝚁𝙷𝙰𝙶𝙴𝙳 𝙼𝙰𝙽. 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙵-𝙰𝙳𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝚂𝚄𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴𝚂 𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝙲𝚁𝚄𝙳𝙴𝙻𝚈 𝙲𝙸𝙽𝙲𝙷𝙴𝙳 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙰 𝙲𝙷𝙸𝙿𝙿𝙴𝙳 𝚃𝙾𝙾𝚃𝙷 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙰 𝚆𝙸𝙽𝙲𝙴. 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙰𝙲𝙸𝙳𝙸𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙻𝚈 𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙼 𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙲𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙾𝚆𝙽 𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙳 𝙽𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙻𝙴𝙳 𝙸𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝙾𝙵 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙾𝙰𝚃, 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙾 𝚂𝙿𝙴𝚆.
𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐍 ’ 𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝑱𝑶𝑲𝑬 , not a vestige of humour bubbling in fermented bile of vomit - lined digestion , just a lone residual twinge beneath the dermis and an oblique 𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒅 by shadow - clad fists . 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 : to evade the CONCLUSIVE blow , clamoring for cognizance against the clement lull of weighted eyelids . it ’ s a 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 , NARCISSISTIC FARCE OF MARTYRDOM rehearsed to perfection ––– without so much as a beholden kiss . ( unceremoniously discarded , 𝚠𝚒𝚍𝚎 - 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚍 &. 𝚍𝚘𝚕𝚕 - 𝚓𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 , to the vigilant assault ) . ever - ardent , SHE ’ LL TREAD , LIMP , 𝑪𝑹𝑨𝑾𝑳 through the fecal filth of a metropolitan underbelly to his unattainable gratitude , allayed with the relative hospitality of a reticent return .
* this tenacious peripheral amusement of his blurs the 𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌 𝚑𝚞𝚖 of tinnitus . a diaphanous giggle spilling from her bedaubed grimace , the praxis of her duress negated by an amaroidal glare . ❛ WHAT ’ S SO 𝑭𝑼𝑪𝑲𝑰𝑵 ’ FUNNY , MISTAH 𝕵 ? wipe that shit - eatin ’ grin off yer slimy creep face , or 𝐢 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 . ❜ lamenting their deficiency was pointless , yet VEXATION LOITERS behind bared canines boring cavities in her patience : the plan was a 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜 , she just wasn ’ t in on it .
❛ yer such a lousy 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌 - 𝒓𝒂𝒕 ! we coulda pulled off this whole damn thing , we ’ d ‘ ave skipped town with 𝐀 𝐊𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐒 before bat - bitch even pulled his pants up ! but 𝙽 - 𝙾 , you just had t ’ tattle an ’ for what ? a game of 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚌𝚔 - 𝚊 - 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚗 ? ! well , 𝒑𝒖𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒏 ’, the batman ain ’ t the only one who can hitcha round the head , i even got a MALLET if that ’ s what yer into . ❜
ii. ( @jestlam· ) * ❥ / / " 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓. 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍. “
authenticity rings in the HOLLOWS of her mirth , never mind the splintering of raw sinew buckling her erratic posture . ❛ 𝙾𝙷 𝚈𝙴𝙰𝙷 ? you forget who stitched ya up last time you got yer pasty ass beat ( *&. the time before that , n’ the time before that ) . . . did charlie do that crap ? ya look like fucking ROADKILL . good ––– wait ‘ til you get an infection , then we ’ ll see how bad ya 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 it . [ fingers poise at the hilt , braced but 𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝 . ] jeez , if you don ’ t wanna wait why dontcha 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓 ’ 𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐀 an ’ i ’ ll open those stitches right back up 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝒚𝒂 . ❜ not an offer , but the admonition of a 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 dog .
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐓 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌 are suspended in gray-scale like age - old architectural simulacrums for the purpose of man: 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚘𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚢. the hollow, gothic fitments encased in rectal bile and fat - lady intestines are spewed onto filthy concrete in this LOW - BUDGET HOMICIDAL PARODY. the 80s are dead, & with it , the pent up extravagance of one lavish life, throbbing in the erect gristle of a barrel to the head. LOVE IS IN THE AIR, AND THE WORLD IS ABOUT TO SHIT ITSELF ! a consecration of love blooms in the damp, gray rosebud of old gotham, h + j: 4ever. and ever. AND EVER.
MARRIAGE VOWELS: ❝ HeHᴬAᵃH🇦 ––– OH , 𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑳𝑬𝑬𝑬𝑬𝒀 … baby. my love. my sweet… you still haven’t gotten it through that big, beautiful, stupid, fucking brain of yours, ‘ave you ? IT’S NOT ABOUT THE MONEY. IT’S ABOUT THE CHAAAAASE! the fight! the end. that last moment, all cards on the table as we pummel the ever - living SHIT out of one another. ❞
❝ AHEeH… harls , threaten me one more time, and I’LL FUCK YOU WITH A KNIFE. 𝐀𝐇𝐄𝐇𝐄𝐇𝐄 ! ❞
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jestaid.
𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐀𝐑 to negate the cacophonous choirs , enunciations of disdain &. elation may resonate amidst the frigid buttresses yet they find no footing in the conscious of the periodic dwellers . the only distinct note against the static kaleidoscope being the dull 𝑻𝑨𝑷 - 𝐓𝐀𝐏 - 𝑻𝑨𝑷 of knock - off stilettos , 𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚑𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚌 𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚢𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 . ❛ ‘ m sorry for the wait , sure i don ’ t have t ’ tell you things can get a little crowded here . with all the good gotham ’ s favourite son claims to be doin ’ you ’ d think maybe he could spare us some of that cash , right . . . ❜ reticent snicker is confined behind clinical glare of her eyewear . 𝐔𝐍𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐎 , amusement insistently permeating the flesh with a smothered simper , enough to be mistaken for a crude attempt at placation . ( manifestation of objective anxiety , a behavioural symptom ? no . ) she ’ s done her homework &. eagerly awaits the ratification . the only drooling that 𝑷𝑨𝑽𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑰𝑨𝑵 𝑺𝑾𝑬𝑳𝑳 behind her own pearly whites ; frothing anticipation of advancement / 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚕 . ❛ are you comfortable? barney said the batman did a real number on you but i guess that ’ s all 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇 ’ 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 , huh . maybe if he thought less with his fists he could ––– ❜
she ’ s read the transcripts , spent evenings in her own home listening to the stagnant drone of her 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 predecesores from the whirring of a tape wheel discretely slipped in jacket pocket ; unrequited conversation , radio silence . their blunt tools of dissection unveiling nothing but a 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐘 where trauma should fester &. bleed .
❛ . . . doctor . it ’ s doctor . ❜ salvage of composure is articulated in the furore of fingers ; notations on a discoloured clipboard in doctorial scrawl , 𝚊𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 - 𝚝𝚑𝚎 - 𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚊𝚕 . recovery is a finite occurrence in bedlam ’ s confines , be it of decorum or sanity , &. still gaze dares to meet it ’ s 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 . ❛ we all have bad days : losing a job , a loved one passing . . . maybe you just woke up on the 𝑾𝑹𝑶𝑵𝑮 𝑺𝑰𝑫𝑬 of bed . but i guess it depends on what you consider a really bad day . [ a considerate pause . ] are you having a bad day ? ❜
❝ OHHHHHHH , you wouldn’t BELIEEEEEEEVE the terrible, NO GOOD, BAD DAY i’ve had, doc. bumbling, brutal BATS beating the living hell out of me. crooked cops CRAPPING ON THE JUSTICE SYSTEM of this great and terrible nation ! 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 falling from the sky ready to annihilate the whole, human race ––– why , it’s enough to make any man CRAAAAAZY ! ACK , give it to me straight, doc. am --- am i crazy ? 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒑𝒂 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 ? OHHHHH, the humanity ! [ HE FAKE WEEPS ] why, why, whyyyy me ? ❞
HE SINKS INTO THE STEEL - PLATED SEAT NAILED INTO
THE ASYLUM TILING, THE IVORY STRAIGHT JACKET STRAPS
CLINGING TO HIM LIKE INSANITY TO A JOKER.
HE WEEPS.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐏𝐓 𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑'𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄 weighs heavy on the shoulders of a self - diagnosed madman, caught full - tilt on the 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚎 of super sanity and obsession. he prattles on with the effervescent showmanship of an ICON SMEARED IN COKE - RIDDLED SNOT ROCKETS , and something hot rising in the bone - dry contents between his legs. don’t poke the bear : ❝ THE VOICES ... the voices ... make them stop. make them stop, PLEEEEEEASE ! doc, doctor doctooooooooooor ––– quinzel [ ? ] ... 𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑳𝑬𝑬𝑵, 𝐚H𝒆𝒉 ... doctor harleeeeeeen quinzeeeeel. TELL ME, DOC. are you having a bad day ? your hair looks a little frizzed, coffee stain on your jacket... late to our meeting... all those years of medical school and money wasted on itty, bitty, paper degrees, and yet here you are : with me. IN THE LOONY BIN , aheh... with nothing but a coffee stain to show for it. you spent thousands to get stuck in here, belittled by your superiors, attacked by your patients... a pariah to all, ALLLLLLLLLLL because of that little monster between your legs, AHEH, YUUUUUCK ! hell , at least i got in here for free. so... 𝚠𝚑𝚘'𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚢 ? 𝚈𝙾𝚄. 𝙾𝚁. 𝙼𝙴. 𝐀𝐇𝐄𝐇𝐄𝐇𝐄 ! oh , what do i know ? I’M INSANE ! ❞
[ 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜
, ❝ so … how’s your day, HARLEEN ? ❞
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A BAPTISM IN ELECTRO - SHOCK comes in bouts of pill - popping extravaganzas & smothered babies under a heavy pillow fist. the soft underbelly of a STARK WHITE cushioned wall is mangled , and pulled apart from the seams like muscle from bone : layer after layer of 𝒄𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒇 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒘𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 of its haphazardly strung up gothic architecture stuffed under a 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚙𝚜𝚎𝚍 gibbous moon and a pulsating sky of a black, filthy sludge.
[ 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛’𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚌 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 , & somewhere, in the vast labyrinth of asylum padding and waterboard therapy is the slipshod handiwork of a hanger - induced labor. nothingness. & silence , 𝚊 𝚖𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚎𝚝𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖, 𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚍 𝚙𝚒𝚜𝚜. ( ENTER THE DOCTOR. ) ❝ TELL ME, NURSE ... have you ever had a really, really bad day ? ❞
@jestaid : 𝐌𝐀𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄.
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Mortal Kombat 11 | The Joker - Gameplay Trailer
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gothmite.
* [ 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄, 𝐒𝐎𝐍 ] “JUST TAKE ONE STEP, THEN ANOTHER. WE’LL GET THERE.” SEPTEMBER 19TH, 1960. (𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑲 𝑹𝑶𝑾)
OFFICER: DON’T ... LOOK ... (inhale) IT’LL BE FINE, BRUCE. ONE DAY YOU’LL GET BETTER. HEAL. SOME DAY, SOME DAY SOON OR DISTANT, YOU’LL HEAL. YOU WILL HEAL. NOW, CAN YOU HELP US IDENTIFY WHO MIGHT HAVE DONE THIS --
HIS KINGDOM OF MADNESS FALLS , : & dies like the last 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘴 , SCORCHING breath of a CANCEROUS - LUNG : 𝙱𝚁𝙸𝚂𝙺𝙻𝚈. / painfully , all debris pitter - patter amidst a body of CULT IDOLATRY. al ghul DESTROYED , & THE CRUSADE CRASHES , BURNED: ( rebirth ) a head - on collision with an indomitable object , 𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦 [ … ] justice .
THE NIGHT IS DEAD, STILL TRESS IN THE WINTER ARE KILLED IN THIS ENVIRONMENTAL DEATH; DECONSTRUCTION OF A CINDERBLOCK MENAGERIE, AND IT’S ALL STATIC NOISE. BATMAN IS A TRAIN - TRACK AWAY FROM THE DEBILITATED AL GHUL, THE EXHAUSTION IS WEARY ON THE SLICK BREATHS OF MEN MADE IMMORTAL BY NAMES. IT SMELLS OF A BRUTAL CRIME WAVE’S DEATH AND ANTISEPTIC WASTE. THE BATMAN REVELS IN IT. THE HORIZON IS TOUCHING DOWN. EMBRACING MOTHER EARTH WITH A LUKEWARM EMBRACE. EVERYTHING ENDS. EVEN LEGENDS.
❝ IT’S OVER. YOU FAILED, RA’S. ❞
@jestlam *& ’knightfall’
* [ 𝐕𝐄𝐍. 𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐐𝐔𝐈, 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐎. ] “TU MADRE ESTÁ MUERTA. SHE IS DEAD. AHORA TU TA SOLO. STAY WITH ME.” DATE N/A, 1963. (𝑺𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑨 𝑷𝑹𝑰𝑺𝑪𝑨)
PUERCO: COME ... COME HERE, BOY. YOU NEED A BIG MAN. A STRONG MAN TO CARE FOR YOU. LOOK ... (smile) DON’T YOU WANT TO BE MY FRIEND, BOY? THE WOMEN ... VERY NICE TO LOOK AT. BUENO PARA BEBÉS Y NADA MÁS. YOU WILL GET BETTER, BOY. WITH ME. COME IN MY CELL. I WILL SHOW YOU HOW GOOD IT FEELS TO HEAL.
UNHOLY REGICIDE : decapitated kingdoms and sprawling golden veins are split open & dissected in the name of rebirth. / 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚜 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 ��𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛 , [𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑] : the primordial enemy of manhood. HEALING IS A BLADE SLIPPED BETWEEN TWO RIBS , the spastic, ritualistic dance of holy - men with a hunger for the young, suffering a DIVINE JUDGEMENT upon the flesh. “ 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘱𝘶𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘰? 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘥? ” this is the story of a boy becoming a man. this is how a man broke the bat.
FROM THE SULLEN SHADOWS OF A DERELICT PLAYGROUND IS THE BIRTH OF DIVINE JUDGEMENT, THE GOD - DEFIER,
---------- A TRUE BANE OF HUMANITY.
𝑪𝑳𝑨𝑷, 𝑪𝑳𝑨𝑷, 𝑪𝑳𝑨𝑷.
❝ THIS IS WHAT MAKES YOU KING? battling old men and running around in tights and childish masks ... two days and two nights in gotham and i have seen the truth. YOU ARE NO DEMON. JUST A MAN. show me, BATMAN [ … ] what makes you tick ? ❞
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i am honestly in so much awe & absolutely breathless at ur writing ... oh my god. how is ur mind ... THAT powerful ?? if u could please share where u get ur info / ur writing process , only if u want ! , i ( & i’m sure everyone else )would absolutely love to hear !!! ur words are gospel i am so speechless * big heart eyes *
♡ ahh, this is so kind, thank you so much ! as for writing process, it usually depends on my writing partner but @jestlam & dee in general is who helps me with my inspiration in writing. i am so, so happy that you enjoy my interpretation of bruce wayne though !
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gothmite. BLACK CHRISTMAS.
the jackal choir of a 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍 is clawing through the vitiated and red - gorged tumor in the gullet of ONE : breathing a citadel of viscous disease, slobber ripe with a transmitted plague , inherited like a lunatic’s ill - gotten heirloom. it’s a foreign syntax of a babylonian - terror; a kingdom’s STILL - BIRTH BURNING DEATH- perishing from the clogged arteries of limelight avenues to a slow - burn epileptic convulsion of it’s pilgrimage people. 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐎𝐊𝐄. a lasting cacophony of VIOLENT , asphyxiating howling amid the bedlam of dying man. my needle - dark DECEMBER voice is colder than a 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚎 victim numbed in a 𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘢𝘥𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥, & has died in the INTIMATE EMBRACE of my bloodsport throat. [ he echoes a 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 laughter cannibalizing my gory mind and it’s weeping clotted blood like gazelle on the 𝖧𝖤𝖫𝖫𝖨𝖲𝖧 𝖲𝖠𝖵𝖠𝖭𝖭𝖠. ] 𝗔 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗚𝗜𝗖 𝗥𝗘𝗙𝗟𝗘𝗫: my hand is clenched and i imagine his throat.
TODD: HEY, EARTH TO OLD MAN, D’YA HEAR M -
JASON TODD IS INTERRUPTED BY A BRUTAL, STINGING TYPE OF
SILENCE. THE DEATH THROES OF VIRTUE; PURPLE AND BLUE STROBES LIFTING INTO A OBESE VEIN, & CULMINATING INTO A EUPHORIC RELEASE OF FUNNY VIOLENCE. THE BATMAN IS ANGRY & 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇.
HE’S REINVIGORATED WITH A KINDLING PURPOSE, BURNING LIKE A
BUNDLE OF FLAKING FIREWOOD. THE PRINCE OF THE EAST IS IN
A VICE GAMBLE FOR THE BATMAN’S SOUL: TO DESTROY SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL. A SEWER IS LEADING INTO THE HEART OF THAT PLACE OF DEPRAVITY. THE LAUGHTER STILL BURNS. IT’S ALL OR NOTHING TONIGHT.
FOR GOTHAM CITY. FOR JASON.
𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐎𝐍.
PENNYWORTH: MASTER TODD, WHAT DID HE SAY ?
TODD: HE DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING . . .
a bloated miasma of runny bile and bobbing FILTH is home to a scabbed vermin; infested like a withered carcass and one contaminated pest is trailing a sick circle in the WHITE PUS of a six - underground sewer. she’s a neon demon riddled with a 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒; a DUMB stupor of 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 makes her perform like a ballerina off ecstasy. in the midst of a life foaming with a mountain drink’s intensity, this rodent suffers a neurological shock, an acknowledgement: a fear that could melt flesh with a carpet bomb, TURN YOU INTO BONE AND DEATH. it’s small heart beats out of it’s sickly, clogged chest and the suffering is over.
𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐖𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐒𝐎 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘.
THE BATMAN IS ZEROED INTO THE LOCATION OF THE CLOWN; HE DARES
NOT TO SAY HIS NAME, AS IF IT WERE A METHOD OF OPENING A
PANDORA’S BOX HE COULD NEVER CLOSE. THE SEWER OF GOTHAM IS A
RANCID HELL, ALL THE DEGENERATE FILTH AND FESTERING WASTE OF
THIS CITY OF SAINTS IS ALL CULMINATING INTO A GROUND ZERO OF
JUDGMENT DAY, AND ALL HE CAN DO IS TRY TO KEEP THE DILAPIDATED WHEELS ON THE BUS GOING. SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THE RATS RUNNING IN
A CONCRETE END AND THE SHIT - TINGED POND SHIVERING LIKE DYING
MOSQUITOES:
BATMAN REALIZES SOMETHING IS WRONG. SOMETHING TERRIBLE,
“SOMETHING IS HUNTING ME.”
CLOSE IN ON BATMAN TRACING HIS FINGER ALONG THE SKIRTING OF DRY BLOOD LIKE A EXPERIMENTAL ART STUDENT; INVESTIGATING WITH THAT INQUISITIVE NEED FOR ANSWERS AS HE ALWAYS SEEKS. BEHIND HIM, A WET HULK OF INHUMANE SCALE IS SCABBED OVER WITH BLISTERING CRYSTALLINE PLATES -- A WRIST SLIT IN GLITTERING RED EYES.
THE R - COMPLEX LIZARD BRAIN. the old dragon of revelations. i am dispersed into ancient brickwork and i cannot pray, because my god does not exist. i must face the dragon within alone.
❝ ArRGHhH ! ! ❞
* —— 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙳𝙻𝙴𝚂𝚂 𝚂𝚃𝚁𝙴𝙽𝙶𝚃𝙷 𝙰𝙶𝙰𝙸𝙽𝚂𝚃 𝙲𝚄𝙽𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚂𝙷𝙰𝙳𝙾𝚆.
LOVE IS LETTING SOMETHING GO AND IF IT DOESN’T RETURN, YOU HUNT IT. YOU KILL IT. love is your father drunk on secretary spit, kissing you with two angry fists red with rage and devotion. he’s dressing old wounds with belt - buckle whippings, and mommy’s somewhere in the kitchen crying to a smoke alarm - harmony , slumped in the arms of a charred collation, HOT AND BLACK AND FEARFUL because she knows SHE’S NEXT. you live a trembling childhood swaddled in stained sheets and darkness, locking eyes with THE BEAST OF PREY ; a familial monster climbing into bed alongside you when 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨. love is a plastic bag over your newborn baby’s head because he came out just a little too special and DADDY DIDN’T RAISE NO QUITTER.
GORDON: MMHM..MHM.... WHMM - MHMMHWHHM!
A CHERRY RED PROLAPSE PULSATES AND THROBS IN A SHACKLED
MOUTH BOUND WITH TIES AND GAGS. HE’S ALL MUFFLED MOANS
AND INCOHERENT RAMBLINGS STRUGGLING TO MAKE SENSE OF WHAT
IS GOING ON.
SOMEWHERE UNDER THE FLICKERING SPECKS OF MOONLIGHT APPEARS A PHANTOM OF THE HOSPICE, GLOWING BRIGHT EYES INVADING THE
SANCTITY OF JIM GORDON’S MIND.
THE JOKER REMOVES THE BALL GAG.
GORDON: Y - YOU ... WON’T GET ... (inhale) YOU WON’T GET AWAY WITH THIS ... YOU FUCKING PSYCHOPATH! IN A FEW MINUTES YOU’LL HAVE THE ENTIRE FORCE OF THE G.C.P.D. COME DOWN ON YOUR ASS YOU FILTHY SONUVABITCH.
JOKER: TYPICAL JAMES. YOU HAVEN’T CHANGED ONE BIT AND I ADOOOORE YOU FOR IT. SAME OLE’ JAMES THAT I KNOW AND LOVE.
GORDON: YOU DON’T KNOW ME.
“ OOOOH? but i do. JIM ... JIMOTHY ... JIIIIIMBOOoOooOoOo ... James Worthington Gordon of 2121 PARK ROW SOUTH, GOTHAM CITY, APARTMENT 4E. i know you’re unfaithful, jimmy. ann knows, too, but she ignores it. for the kids. BLESS HER STUPID HEART. i know you sleep, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 , on the right side of the bed. i know you leave your gun strapped under the bedside table next to the window —— when you’re not holding it to your head babbling about pulling the trigger. i mean 𝑮𝑶𝑶𝑫 𝑮𝑶𝑫 𝑴𝑨𝑵 ! either kill yourself or don’t, but stop teasing us with it, YOU’RE DRIVING US INSANE! I know you can’t get it up unless you’re thinking of sarah essen ... i know you like your coffee black with six sugars, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘰𝘯, and i know you have a niece. BARBARA........ sweet, plump, deliciooooOOoOoOus barbara. ”
GORDON: I’M NOT AFRAID OF YOU, CLOWN. I PITY YOU. YOU DON’T SCARE ME. YOU DISGUST ME. THEY’RE ALL AFRAID OF YOU... TOO SCARED TO SAY YOUR NAME. “JOKER.” AT LEAST THEY’RE RIGHT ABOUT THAT. YOU ARE A JOKE. YOU’RE A VILE, PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A “MAN.” RUNNING AROUND IN DRESSES AND HIGH HEELS, HURTING WOMEN AND CHILDREN LIKE SOME LITTLE BITCH. YOU HAVE NOTHING LEFT. THE BAT’S GONE. HE LEFT GOTHAM.
JOKER: OOOH, SILLY, LITTLE JIMMY. I’M NOT HERE FOR THE BIG, BAD BAT. HE AND I HAVE FOUND IT BEST TO SEPARATE. A BREAK IF YOU WILL!
“ i don’t want batman, jim. I WANT YOU. ”
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Party Monster
Directed by Fenton Bailey and Randy Barbato (2003)
Michael
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Liquid Sky (Slava Tsukerman, 1982)
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some one word prompts . ( send one of the words for our muses to interact based off that word )
goodbye : my muse kissing and/or hugging your muse goodbye.
secrets : my muse sharing/confiding their deepest, darkest secret with your muse.
nightmare : my muse coming to your muses aid when they awake from a nightmare.
push : my muse pushing your muse out of the way of danger.
embrace : my muse abruptly throwing their arms around your muse, hugging them tightly.
bloody : my muse coming to your muse with blood stains on their clothes and hands, shaking.
drunk : my muse takes care of your muse while they are in a drunken state.
bed : my muse wakes up in the same bed as your muse with little recollection of the night before.
slap : my muse slaps your muse across the face out of anger.
gone : my muse stays by your muses side while they take their last breath.
scream : my muse hears your muse scream and quickly runs to their side.
sleep : my muse falls asleep on your muse, making it hard for my muse to leave.
stalk : my muse gets caught by your muse trailing behind them, watching them.
sacrifice : my muse jumps in front of your muse, sacrificing their life for your muses life.
trail : my muse watches as your muse traces one of my muses scares, asking them about it.
love : my muse confronts your muse about why they never say ’ i love you ’ back.
piggyback : my muse jumps on your muses back, my muse gives yours a piggyback ride.
jump : my muse runs to your muse and jumps up, my muse holding yours up by their thighs.
dance : my muse holds their hand out, waiting for your muse to come out and slow dance with them.
carry : my muse carries your muse to their house, either drunk, or a weakened state, can specify.
lighter : my muse pulls out a lighter and lights it for your muse to use to light their cigarette.
shot : my muse gets shot and struggles to your muses house for aid.
wound : my muse patches and bandages a wound your muse has gotten.
fight : my muse stops your muse from getting into a physical fight with someone else.
arrest : your muse finds my muse arrested in cuffs with swarming police everywhere.
hospital : my muse awakens in a hospital, finding your muse by their side, asking what happened.
gun : my muse pulls out a gun on your muse, your muse tries to talk them into putting the gun down.
betrayal : my muse finds out that your muse has betrayed them in same way and confronts them about it.
nude : my muse walks in on your muse accidentally seeing them naked.
karaoke : my muse pulls your muse up on stage with them to sing some karaoke songs.
laughter : my muse hears your muse laughing uncontrollably and approaches to see if they are okay.
murder : my muse walks in on your muse committing a gruesome murder.
wet : my muse strips down to their under garments and runs into the water, motioning for your muse to join them.
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gothmite. BLACK CHRISTMAS.
BATS ARE A NOCTURNAL PREDATOR: gliding between the tenebrous nebula of a claustrophobic nightfall, seasoned with the assemblage of contagious vermin amidst a 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃; inveigling with the oath of indulgence and pursuit. submerged in silence and stitched into the tapestries of the black night, crimson rainfall coasts the brim of the knight’s mouth, adorned in blackened bruises. oblivion knocking 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐦 in every cesspool of BECKONING STREET. led in a harrowing goose - chase through the maddening lair 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤, 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳𝘴.
THE RAIN FALLS CLICKITY - CLACK UPON THIS CONCRETE JUNGLE,
SPRAWLING ACROSS AS A BLACK PLAGUE. THE ELECTRIC BLUE FREQUENCY IS TUNED TO AN OCTAVE SOLELY FOR BATS TO HEAR. 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐍: IN POSITION, BATCAVE. 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐊𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄. 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐃: BATCAVE TO SHITTY GUARDIAN, IT SEEMS AS THOUGH YOU FORGOT YOUR PARTNER! 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐍: ROBIN, NOT NOW.
𝐖𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓. THE SILENCE DIES ON THE BREATH OF A ASTHMATIC, & ROMAN SIONIS IS HOLDS ALL ATTENTION ON A PIN - THIN PROMISE, STRONG AS A TAPEWORM’S BODY
❝ CHRIST. 〔 a collapsed, stringent gaze. 〕 fuckin’ crazy, shit… listen, i ain’t call you all here - to fuckin’ fight. should be celebrating, yanno ? no more of them old ‘n bold mobs anymore. we all’re still kickin’ after th’ end of the world, right ? moral should be high, eh ? maybe i should’a brought some broads ? all know ivy would’a ’ppreciated that, HEH… ❞
DENT: SIONIS, QUIT WASTING OUR TIME.
SIONIS: WHAT’S WRONG, DENT ... GOT A ‘ME, MYSELF, AND I’ SPA TRIP?
IVY: GET TO THE POINT, ROMAN.
𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 & succumbs to horror like a ill child cowering under a leather belt. ❝ i haven’t seen the bat around, have you? ❞
SILENCE.
OSWALD: OI, PLEEEASE. THE BAT HASN’T SHOWN ‘IS FACE SINCE BIG BOY BLUE BROUGHT ‘IS BAND OF ALIEN DIP-SHITS TO TOWN. FORGET THE BAT, HAS ANYONE SEEN THAT FOOKIN’ BOY OF ‘IS ? LITTLE SHIT KEEPS TAKIN’ ME MEN OUT !
IVY: BATMAN’S WAITING FOR THE JOKER.
OSWALD: HE AND EVERY OTHER HALF WIT IN AMERICA IS LOOKIN’ F’THE BLOODY JOKER, BABE. FOR ALL WE KNOW THAT DAMNED CLOWN IS SOMEWHERE FESTERING WITH AIDS READY T’BLOW ‘IS FOOKIN’ HEAD OFF !
DREAD IS WORN BY TREMBLING HANDS AND A LOADED GUN. a one - man invasion patrols the shadows of this deserted landscape like some NIGHT HUNTER , shrouded in secrecy and perched upon the gargoyles of a grayscale cityscape, peering down at the very people he’s sworn to protect. kevlar becomes cotton, chain-mail fists are ankle socks and a crooked pair of prescription glasses, hanging off their last limb are the cowl of this newly appointed SOLO - ARMY OF GOTHAM CITY. * NO TIME TO WASTE. BACK UP ON THE WAY. NO TIME TO WASTE. FOR GOTHAM. FOR BARBARA. FOR BATMAN. NO TIME TO WASTE.
JIM GORDON IS LIGHT ON HIS FEET, PISTOL IN HAND,
TRIGGER FINGER AT THE READY. IT’S ALL OR NOTHING TONIGHT;
THE LAST STAND. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄.
HE’S TEARING THROUGH THE ABANDONED FACTORY, HOT ON OSWALD’S
TRAIL, BACK - TO - WALL. ONE STEP AT A TIME. HIS HEART IS
READY TO BURST FROM HIS CHEST, BREATH HEAVY LIKE A WHEEZY ASTHMATIC TAKING A DRAG FROM HIS FIRST CIGARETTE. IT’S ALL OR NOTHING TONIGHT.
FOR GOTHAM CITY. FOR BARBARA.
𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐍.
I’M LOST IN A MAZE OF VACANT ROOMS AND EMPTY MEMORIES , the atmosphere is slick with moisture and the undying sense of my not belonging there. LIKE A LAMB TO THE SLAUGHTER , i push forward through the labyrinth , the soft coo’s of the minotaur’s shackles taunting my every move. something heavy is bellowing around the air, doing circles above my head in waves of fungus and lead poisoning. hollow corridors dimly - lit by a sheepish moon in hiding quickly unfurl into a tangled cluster of distortion and confusion. 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. the trail’s gone cold, i can’t smell the rancid stench of donut grease and heart disease. i push forward. NO EXIT. i’m retracing my steps, following a lost pattern in this erratic dance of missteps and hiding. A DEAD END. i’m lost. the penguin is gone. it’s kind of funny. I COULD ALMOST LAUGH.
DENT: NONE OF YOU IDIOTS REALIZE IT, DO YOU ?
SIONIS: REALIZE WHAT ?
IN THE HIDDEN SAFETY BEHIND AN UNHINGED DOOR, AN EXHAUSTED
JIM GORDON SLUMPS DOWN. HIS HEAD IS BURIED INTO HIS KNEES,
BREATH HEAVY AND CHAOTIC. FOR ONE MOMENT, HE THINKS OF THE
ATTACK: GODS HURLING FIRE FROM THE SKIES, BUILDINGS CRUMBLING
UNDER THEIR VERY FINGERTIPS. HE THEN THINKS OF HIS NIECE,
FRESHLY INDOCTRINATED INTO THE HELL-SCAPE THAT IS THIS CITY. HIS SON, RED WITH RAGE AND BLOODY CLASSMATES. HIS WIFE, HIS
BEAUTIFUL, UNHAPPY WIFE PREGNANT WITH HIS SECOND CHILD AND 2
STEPS OUT THE FRONT DOOR, ALREADY.
JIM GORDON THINKS OF EVERY TERRIBLE THING IN HIS LIFE,
PAST PRESENT, AND PRESUMABLE FUTURE.
i start sobbing. my gravel - laden throat is filled to the brim with asphyxiation and stress; i’m choking down my words and cries, struggling to keep quiet. i’m overwhelmed and my sobs disperse into heavy laughter. 𝘰𝘩 𝘨𝘰𝘥, 𝘪’𝘮 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵. i’m laughing and my shoulders drop, i’m weightless and sinking into a curled ball of stomach aches and unfounded humor. 𝘰𝘩 𝘨𝘰𝘥, 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘴. i’m laughing, but nothing about this is funny. i’m laughing but i just want to cry. i’m laughing, but i’d do anything to curl up in bed next to my wife and tell her how much i love her. I’M LAUGHING BECAUSE I FINALLY GET THE JOKE.
DENT: THE JOKER NEVER LEFT.
“ J𝐢𝐈IiᎥI𝐢MBOօo໐O𝘰𝚘 ....... ”
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A CHOIR OF BULLET RAIN hum like a spastic family of guilty cicada in an interrogation scene , a vicious back & forth of BAD COP / good clown , taking turns fucking the system. THE WORLD IS SCREAMING, SCREAMING, SCREAMING & the skies turn gray with the color of television static. the sanguinary crusades of an urban blight take place in an armored battle of ammunition power and family annihilation. 𝑳𝑰𝑩𝑬𝑹𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵 𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑺 𝑰𝑵 𝑩𝑶𝑼𝑻𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑮𝑼𝑵𝑭𝑰𝑹𝑬 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑫𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑫 , and tonight, GOTHAM GAINS A NEW DYNAMIC DUO.
“ օo໐𝘖𝘰𝚘𝙾𝚘ᵒᴼᵒh my , what do we have here ? no, no, no ... don’t be afraid , i’m a friend. AHEH , i’m your merry, fairy godmother. ”
@janeives .
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