“Everyone, guess what! Uncle Potato Chip’s friend made it out of surgery! He sent me a picture!”
“He said when he called that it took a long while but they managed. He was on the phone with me when he walked in and the conversation went as followed:”
“Hey, hey, look who made it out of surgery.”
“Mmmmn.”
“Yeah, I bet. Heard they made you handsome.”
“MmmI waaaffs hamsthm beferr.”
“No, no, I know you are. I’m teasing in horrible taste. Has your brother been by yet?”
“Mmmmnnn.”
“Oh, good. I’ll try to catch him if he’s coming back soon. Can I get you anything? How long are you in for?”
…
“Ah, okay. That’s not bad though. Should be in tip top shape by the weekend.”
“Mmmm.”
“Right right. Alright, hey hold on.”
“And it was here that we hung up. I actually don’t know who took the picture and I actually don’t know his friend’s name… I guess I should have asked.”
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Theres a worm-shaped hole in my heart 😔. In fact, there are several, and they are filled with blood, not worms. Whats a girl to do...
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COULD VERITAS RATIO BE A WORM?
see the updated theory HERE
the answer 😏 may surprise you
ok listen to me. a long time ago aha made a worm really smart and tried to get it into the genius society. but even though that worm was smart as hell, nous did not give a fuck about it.
you know who else is smart as hell but nous doesnt give a fuck about?
heh. yeah. thats right. despite many people (including himself) feeling like nous should have recognized him a loooong time ago, that computer just doesn’t care.
now, we are left to wonder… why does nous refuse to acknowledge this man..?
i think it’s quite obvious.
my theory is that aha made a SECOND worm really smart. and Then they made the worm into a sexy guy.
and now they’re outside nous’s window, giggling, as everyone in the universe ponders why veritas ratio is not permitted into the genius society.
“what’s wrong, nous? he’s a genius, isn’t he? let him in,” aha goads.
nous is glitching in frustration. “it’s the worm again. i know it’s the worm again.”
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Margot Quan Knight: A Girl's Best Friend (2002)
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Bruce who accidentally parents his rogues because the mom syndrome is starting to take deep roots.
He threatens Harvey with no dessert if he keeps escaping from Arkham, and blushes bright under the cowl when the man's mouth splits In a teasing, switchblade smirk, " Is that code for something else, doll?"
Harley insists on kicking his seat everytime he arrests her, " I will turn this car around!"
"To where! Also, I'm pretty sure this is just a Tesla with fancy gadgets and an emo makeover."
"You take that back, missy--"
Selina has to sit through 3 hours of " our generation doesn't know what real music is" speeches until she finally cracks and chokes him with her whip
Martinez will never forget the day Batman grabs Riddler by the scruff of his neck and holds him like a misbehaving cat, " What do we say when we flood the city?"
"Sorry."
"That's right. Now go to your cell for reflection time."
Don't misunderstand, he's like that with the league, too. Bruce gives Billy a juice box for not obliterating an enemy to bits and he almost gets lasered.
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No.
No, no, no, no, NO!
He's shaking. His heart is burning in his chest, pounding like a jackhammer against his ribs, and there's a trembling, aching rage building beneath his tongue and pressing against his teeth.
In his hands, his fingers tense and wrists locked, the article reads in big, black font: JOKER LOCKED IN ARKHAM ASYLUM AGAIN!
Danny shouldn't feel so angry about this, this is a good thing. Gotham doesn't have to deal with him for another few months at the least. He should feel relieved, a little more at peace.
He is not.
He cannot swallow the fury thudding behind his eyes, the burning white heat searing a deeper hole in his chest. A searing green filling static in his ears in the way only the rage of the restless dead can have.
How is he going to kill him now?
Arkham may be the only asylum in America made entirely of tissue paper, but it's still an asylum. There are cameras, guards, other patients resting inside. Danny can think of a million different ways to sneak in and kill Joker, but someone will hear his screaming.
It'd have to be rushed.
He doesn't want it to be rushed.
It's a cruel thought. Cruel and cold and merciless, but Danny doesn't feel an ounce of shame, not an ounce of guilt, for it. He wants to be alone with the Joker when he kills him, that's all he wants. In Arkham, you are never alone.
He forces his anger to bubble back down into his chest, stuffing it between his heartstrings and his ribs like a blanket you're trying to bunch up into a corner. It sizzles and burbles. The static begins to fade out into a high-pitched ringing; it sounds like distant screaming.
Danny is still trembling, but he can think a little clearer now.
He can wait.
He can wait. He can wait. He can wait. He canwait. Hecanwait. Hecanwait.
He can wait.
He's waited five years for this. He can wait one more week. One more month. One more year. However long it takes for the Joker to break back out, Danny can wait.
And when the Joker does, inevitably, break out.
Danny uncrinkles his fingers around the edges of the newspaper, loosens his limbs just enough so he can pay for it.
He'll be waiting.
The dead, after all, have all the time in the world.
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