#arthur fleck gets what he deserves

[fleckficgirl]

Arthur Under the Mistletoe 🎄

Summary: You throw a party on Christmas Eve that doesn’t go as planned...but in the very best of ways. Extremely fluffy oneshot and the title speaks for itself :)

Warnings: mental illness

Word Count: 2087

Notes: I was inspired by @jokerownsmysoul​‘s recent post about who she’d kiss under the mistletoe. Obviously, I’m choosing Arthur Fleck as well! Be sure to listen along to the Christmas album hyperlinked in the story, too. Hope you enjoy ❤️❤️

“This is a disaster!” you wailed. “Why did I think anyone would ever come to my party?”

Your tear-filled eyes finally overflowed and you buried your face in your hands.

You realized what a sight you must be: young woman in a sparkly pink party dress and white heels, sitting in her own empty apartment, crying unconsolably...and on Christmas Eve, no less. 

Throwing this party was an idea you’d discussed with your therapist a couple weeks prior. You hadn’t thrown a party since childhood, but the idea had sparked your imagination. Deciding you were going to be more outgoing and invite people over for the first time since you moved to Gotham six months ago had gotten your creative juices flowing. 

You'd invited everyone on the eighth floor, including some of the neighbors downstairs you'd chatted with a couple of times. Now you laughed ruefully at yourself for having gotten so excited about decorating the apartment, planning a menu, music and games....only to be stood up by everyone at your own party.

This gathering was supposed to make you feel less alone. But now you felt more lonely than ever. 

You glanced around your festive living room and kitchen. You’d decorated the walls with Christmas garland. A Jolly Christmas from Frank Sinatra was playing on the record player. A full bowl of punch sat in a large, untouched crystal bowl on the coffee table, along with cookies, cake, chips and finger sandwiches. 

And mistletoe. You’d bought mistletoe and placed it over the front door. You’d also gotten dressed up and put makeup on (which wasn’t the easiest thing to do when dealing with depression). But the party had been set to start at seven and it was now a quarter past eight. The writing was on the wall: no one was coming. 

You stood up from the sofa, figuring it was time to start cleaning up. Dejectedly, you made your way over to the record player and turned it off, knowing the joyful, nostalgic tunes would only depress you further. 

A small knock at the door made you jump out of your skin. You froze. Had you actually heard that, or was it your imagination? Afraid of what might be on the other side, you tiptoed to the door and peered through the peephole. 

Was that....Arthur Fleck? From 8J down the hall?

You'd run into him a couple of times in the elevator, but only spoken once, during the garbage strike earlier that year. He was shy and sweet. And beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that you’d gotten completely tongue tied around him...had found yourself blathering some incoherent nonsense about how pretending that the streets smelled like pine needles - your favorite scent - was the only thing keeping you sane through the strike. 

Deep in the back of your mind you'd hoped he would show up tonight. You wiped the tears from your eyes - not wanting him to see you see you upset - and opened the door.

The sight of him now almost made your heart leap into your throat, and you had to remind yourself to breathe. Arthur was wearing a crisp blue cardigan, and his beautiful brown hair was combed back in loose curls. He’d dressed up for the party and looked even more handsome than you’d remembered. 

“Hi, Arthur,” you squeaked.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” Arthur held up a small wrapped gift with a bow on it. “Sorry I’m late. I had a gig that ended at seven and raced back over here to change first.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you replied, letting him inside. “You’re...actually the only one who showed up.” 

Arthur stepped into your living room and spun around, surprised. “I’m the only one here?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, trying not to break into tears again. “So if you don’t wanna stick around, I understand.”

“But everything looks so beautiful.” Arthur pointed at the garland on the walls. “And you look...especially nice tonight.” He stepped over to the record player. “I love this album. Do you mind if I put it on?”

You sniffed. “Wait...you mean...you wanna stay?”

“Only if you don’t mind having me.”

You shook your head. You were still reeling with disappointment - this wasn’t at all the party you’d imagined - but you were grateful that at least one person had showed up. Even more grateful that that person was Arthur. 

“Please stay,” you responded, a small smile spreading over your face. “I’d love it if you stayed.” 

Arthur beamed and turned the record player back on.

“Can I get you some punch?” you offered, moving towards the coffee table. 

“Sure!” His eyes lit up, almost glittering. “Except, if it has alcohol in it I really shouldn't mix that with my medications...”

“Nope, alcohol-free,” you smiled as you poured him a glass. “And feel free to help yourself to any of the snacks.” 

Arthur took the glass from you and sat next to you on the sofa. “What made you want to throw a Christmas party?”

“Well,” you mulled the question over. “I've been feeling kinda down...kinda lonely. I have some...problems with depression.”

“I know what that feels like,” Arthur said. “To feel lonely, I mean. And sad.” 

“I can get extra sad around the holidays,” you continued. “And I couldn’t fly home to see my family this year. So I thought...maybe I could invite people over. Maybe I’m not the only one who has a hard time at Christmas.” 

"Well I’m glad you threw the party. And I'm really glad you invited me,” Arthur smiled, shyly placing his hand over yours. "When I got your invitation, I knew there was no way I'd miss it.”

“Well, I’m sorry it’s not much of a party,” you lamented. “I guess it's official: all my neighbors hate me. Except you.”

“They don't hate you,” Arthur countered. “They probably just had other plans.”

You paused, taking a thoughtful sip of punch. “You're right,” you nodded. “That's black and white thinking. My therapist tells me I tend to do that. Just because they didn't show up tonight doesn't mean they hate me.”

“You see a therapist?” Arthur cocked his head to one side. “So do I. But all she ever asks me is if I’ve been having any negative thoughts.”

“All I have are negative thoughts!” you joked. Arthur laughed.

“Do you want to open your gift?” he asked. “You don’t have to,” he added quickly. “I read in an etiquette book I got from the library that you're not supposed to open gifts in front of other guests at a party.”

“Well, seeing as how there are no other guests!” you quipped before pausing to raise a sly eyebrow at him. “You checked an etiquette book out from the library?”

“Yeah,” Arthur smoothed back his hair self-consciously. “Well...a party etiquette book. The truth is, I've never been invited to a Christmas party before. Or any parties, really. I wanted to make sure I didn't mess anything up.” 

Giddy at the thought of him sweetly taking the time to research how to behave at your party, you pulled his small gift off the coffee table and held it in both hands. The wrapping was a candy cane pattern and the bow was a simple green shiny ribbon. In that moment you felt that you'd never seen anything so beautiful in your life.

“You wrapped this yourself?”

“Yeah,” he replied sheepishly. “I’m not that good at wrapping, but...I hope you like it.” 

“I love it!” you blurted.

“You don’t even know what it is yet!” Arthur laughed.

Carefully, you peeled away the scotch tape on the side and tore back the wrapping to reveal a small, green candle. Snow-Covered Pines, the label read. 

“I remembered that one time you and I talked in the elevator. You said you liked the scent. Anyway, I saw it at the drugstore and...I thought of you.”

“You remembered that?” Your heart fluttered, feeling embarrassed by the memory all over again, but also touched. “Thank you, Arthur. I love it so much.” 

Arthur was an extremely easy person to talk to. Conversation with others wasn’t something that always came naturally to you, but with him it felt effortless. The next time you glanced back up at the clock, you were shocked to see it was almost ten. 

“Should I put on another record?” Arthur offered as the last song on the Frank Sinatra album spun to an end.

“Sure!” 

Arthur stood up. “You have all the greats here,” he hummed as he mused over your record collection. He selected Nat King Cole’s Christmas album, carefully placing the record onto the turntable before sliding Frank's back into its sleeve. 

“This is my favorite Christmas song!” you clasped your hand to your chest as the familiar notes of the first song poured over your ears. 

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire...

“Mine too,” Arthur paused, looking shy. 

“We have a lot in common, Arthur,” you beamed. 

“Did you...did you want to dance?” he asked in a soft voice. “With me?”

You felt your heart start to pound again. “Yes...” you answered. “Except I’m really bad at it. I might step on your feet.” 

“Well,” Arthur said. “There’s no one here to see you be bad at it. Except me.” 

He extended his hand and helped you up off the sofa, pulling you in close as you moved around your living room together. 

“Wow, Arthur,” you murmured after a moment, surprised at the grace in his movements. “You’re a really good dancer.” 

“I know,” he said with mock overconfidence. You laughed and swatted his shoulder. He dipped you. The song ended, but he didn’t let you go. You never wanted him to, wishing this night - the same evening you’d been so eager to forget just a couple hours earlier - would never come to an end. 

“Hey,” Arthur hummed softly after you’d danced a few more songs. “I'm having a great time...but I should really get back to my mother. I’ve gotta help her get ready for bed.”

You paused, disappointed to see him go, but more than happy that things had turned out exactly as they had tonight.

“I had a really wonderful evening, Y/N. I'm glad I got the chance to talk to you.”

“Me too,” you replied. “If everyone else had shown up, I don't know if you and I would have gotten to talk as much as we did.”

You walked Arthur to the front door. He stopped and turned to face you once more. You paused before moving to open the door for him.

“Hey, Arthur,” you said in a small voice. “It looks like we're standing under the mistletoe.”

Arthur blinked and looked up. "Oh," he swallowed, a blush spreading across his face.

“Did your book say what people are supposed to do when they’re under the mistletoe together?” 

Arthur nodded, throwing his eyes to the floor. “Yeah," he said, “they’re supposed to kiss each other.”

“Are you gonna kiss me, Arthur?”

“I'd like to...” he hummed. “But only...only if you want me to.”

“I want you to."

He was shy at first, trembling slightly as he brought his lips to yours. But once you were united in the embrace, the both of you seemed to relax. His arms wrapped around you, his hand moving to delicately cup the side of your face. Arthur’s lips were even softer than you had fantasized. His skin was warm, his cologne flooded your senses. 

“Merry Christmas, Arthur,” you blushed as the two of you came apart. Your mind was spinning and you felt weak in the knees. 

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” His eyes were closed, slowly fluttering open as he took your hands into his.

"Maybe....maybe after your mom goes to bed, you could come back and...we could watch The Murray Franklin Show on TV together."

Arthur stared back at you. “You watch the Murray Franklin show?” he asked, eyes wide and incredulous. “I’ve been watching him for years.” 

“So have I. It's his Christmas special tonight, you know.”

“I’d love to watch the holiday special with you.” Arthur’s eyes sparkled. "I'll come back after I finish up at home and we can watch it together.” 

You opened the door for him, lingering in the doorway as he stepped into the hall.

"Oh, and...Arthur?"

"Yes?" he paused, turning to face you.

“Thank you.”

Arthur smiled. "What for?"

"For making my Christmas so special."

Notes: Wishing you a safe & happy holiday season. Thanks so much for reading ❤️❤️ 

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck crush #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck imagine #arthur fleck fanfic #I love you Arthur #arthur fleck smut #arthur fleck gets a happy ending #arthur fleck gets what he deserves #arthur fleck fluff #arthur fleck oneshot #arthur fleck christmas #mistletoe #kissing under the mistletoe #joker 2019 #joker folie a deux #merry christmas #happy holidays #tidings of comfort and joy #comfort and joy #arthur fleck at christmas #arthur fleck dancing #dance with me #all is calm all is bright #arthur gets what he fucking deserves #joaquin phoenix joker #arthur fleck fanfiction #arthur fleck reader #fall on your knees #strike the harp and join the chorus

[five-miles-over]

Hi Mun 👋🏼 just found your blog off some tags lol

I would love it if you could do an age gap hc for joker? How would Arthur deal with developing feelings for a partner who is 10 or even 15 years younger than him?

Thank you so much!

Thanks for your patience, anon! I truly appreciate it. Also, Arthur's head canon turned into a bit of a fic, so I apologize for that.

Headcanon: Arthur Fleck Having an S/O Younger Than Him

"ID Please."

While Arthur accompanied you to the grocery store after your shift at work, you bought a bottle of wine to enjoy with the dinner you planned to cook for Arthur. He was coming over to your apartment for the first time, and you wanted to spoil him with a recipe you saw on a cooking show. So you bought all the ingredients, and a bottle of red.

The cashier glanced at you. "You're twenty-two huh? You look like you should be in high school."

You shook your head, flustered. "Um...thanks?"

After paying, you quickly left the store with your bagged groceries. But just when you reached for Arthur's hand, he flinched.

You didn't think much of it at first, but when you tried to talk to Arthur about something, he simply shrugged it off and said it was nothing

The truth is that, Arthur was still processing the fact that you were in your early twenties.

He knew you were a young beautiful woman, smart and kind. A total catch. And that part of Arthur, the part of his mind that told him he was an outcast and fed him nothing but negative thoughts, constantly said, "She could do so much better than you. You don't deserve her at all. She's the whole package, and what are you? Just some guy who can't even take her out to dinner."

He tried to hold it back as he saw other, bigger guys in Gotham walking with their partners, giving them bouquets of flowers wrapped in shiny plastic and other gifts, telling himself that someday he would do exactly that with you. But knowing that you were at ten years younger than him? That was just more fuel to the fire burning inside him.

"She's got her whole life ahead of her. She's going to find someone better, wait and see." The negative thoughts materialized again. "She's just with you out of pity. Date the sad clown, maybe she just wants to fool around. Wait and see. She's going to meet someone with a lot of money, a lot of status...She'll marry him, and when they're all sitting around at cocktail parties, she'll laugh about the time she dated a sad clown. And say she dodged a bullet."

"Arthur?" You tried to get his attention, and repeated his name a couple of times. "Arthur?"

Arthur, seemingly lost in thought, didn't respond until you stood in front of him, stopping him from crossing the street. "What happened?"

"Nothing," he lied. You crossed your arms, not having any of it. And this made Arthur laugh a bit, not out of amusement but out of fear. "Nothing, really," he lied again between laughs.

"Just tell me."

After a few moments of silence, Arthur simply asked. "Are you really twenty-two?...You're twenty-two."

"Yes. I am."

"That's young."

You shifted your weight to one foot. "I know that."

Arthur mirrored your gesture and swallowed. "So...well, I don't care. It's just young."

"I'm not that young," you rebuffed.

"Young enough that the cashier thinks you're in high school."

You put your hands on your hips, still carrying the bags of groceries. "Is that what this is about? He wasn't hitting on me!"

"No, but someone will," Arthur raised his voice a little. "You're young, what the hell do you know?"

"I know that you're my boyfriend and I love you. I don't care what some cashier says about me, and neither should you."

He shook his head. God how he loved the way you'd get so stubborn about your opinions. It was one of his favorite things about you, but right now, in this moment, it made him even more annoyed. How could you say such a thing, lying through your teeth? And with those three special words? "Bullshit," Arthur muttered, walking away from you to cross the street.

You followed him, huffing with your groceries. "Arthur Fleck, what is wrong with you?! Can't you just...Why are you so mad? Nothing happened! I'm still the same person I was twenty minutes ago."

"No. You're twenty-two." He turned around and lashed out. "You're twelve years younger than I am. What the hell's wrong with you? Hanging around with some old clown, waiting until some rich guy makes you his wife and you can leave me behind!" Your eyes widened. "Is that what you think of me?" Your lips quivered and tears formed in your eyes. "Is that seriously what you think this is, just...hanging around? Oh my god." You looked down as you felt a tear roll down your cheek.

Arthur visibly softened, reaching his hand out but stopping himself just before he could touch you. "I'm such an idiot," you sniffed. "You're right, what do I know?" "I'm sorry," Arthur sighed. "I didn't mean to make you cry." Arthur looked down, into your eyes. "I...was just shocked that you were younger. I thought it would...I don't deserve you. You're great, you're a perfect girl and I don't deserve you." He added, "I love you so damn much."

"I love you too," you looked up. "And I don't want to leave you." He laughed for a few moments with pain in his eyes, and bit the inside of his cheek to quiet down. "I'm so sorry," Arthur repeated and put his hands on your shoulders. "Oh my god, please don't cry. I'm so sorry." He took your grocery bags in his hands. "Let's go."

You and Arthur went back to your apartment, and didn't talk about your age for the rest of the night. But you did spend the evening together, telling each other - and showing each other - how much you really loved each other.

Joker Having an S/O Younger Than Him Would Include...

In complete contrast to Arthur, Joker finding out you were ten or fifteen years younger than him would excite him

He'd turn it into a complete kink, calling you his "personal little baby doll"

Whenever you'd go out, you'd be on his lap, him stroking your thighs and your hair.

Unless you were absolutely against the aesthetic, Joker would love to dress you in coquettish clothing - plaid mini skirts, knee-high white socks, white and pastel blouses that he would ruin with grease facepaint while making out with you, and corsets he would rip off you before having his way with you

And if you ever called him "daddy"? Watch out and be prepared to be dragged into the most private area by the Joker. Hope you didn't have any plans for the next...hour

In general, the Joker would be extremely protective of you, keeping his arm around your waist while you walked.

He'd spoil you with anything you ever wanted, acting almost like your sugar daddy while you window shopped.

And when it got cold, he'd put his red suit jacket over your shoulders saying, "Daddy's not going to let his baby doll freeze."

#Arthur fleck #Arthur fleck x reader #Arthur fleck imagine #joker movie #joker x reader #Joaquin phoenix joker #joker 2019 #joker imagine #joker #the joker #dc joker

[into-crazy]

be my valentine

Arthur Fleck x Reader drabble

Summary: Valentine's Day with Arthur♡

Warnings- consumption of alcohol, but mostly fluff, ages 18+(🍷in this case 21)

I wanted to get this out in time so I hope it's not too bad. Happy Valentine's Day💝

As Valentine's Day approaches, it's certainly not hard to notice with the numerous gifts which filled the shops in Gotham city. All the bright pink and red colors. The words I love you and Happy Valentine's Day plastered every where. Teddy bears carrying little plush hearts. Boxes filled with luxurious chocolates. Heart shaped balloons. Bouquets of flowers both real and plastic. Shelves full of cards with sentimental phrases. Various bottles of wine. The list can continue.

It fills your chest with warmth, as you find the concept of the holiday rather sweet. It's a sweetheart day. And well, you just so happen to have a very special sweetheart. Arthur Fleck.

You plan something very special for Arthur as the date comes up. From having saved up a generous amount of money and requesting to leave work early in advance, you made sure that you were prepared to pull it all together.

This past week leading up to Valentine's day, you'd spotted a perfect gift for him in the window of a gentleman's shop. There was a rack containing a few men's belts. Your eyes had instantly glued to a really nice brown one. Surprisingly it was made of durable quality for an affordable price. You immediately bought it for Arthur and hid it in your dresser under all your clothes.

You were keeping everything regarding your plans concealed from Arthur, as it was going to be a wonderful surprise for him. After all, he deserves it.

Finally, the day arrives. February 14th.

Your morning went by like usual. After work, you stopped at the local market and a second hand shop to pick up everything that you'd need before rushing home. Smiling all the way there as you're unable to contain your excitement.

Once back in the comfort of your shared home, you set the bags on the counter and waste no time in getting everything ready.

You'd found a lovely pair of smokey brown wine goblets from the thrift store. From the market, you picked up a bottle of wine, a small gift bag for the belt, a balloon to tie on the gift bag, and the ingredients needed to make chocolate covered strawberries.

After placing the wine in the freezer to chill, you get right to work on the strawberries. Your heart swells while you prepare the fruit. Dipping them in melted chocolate, then decorating them with pink and red sprinkles. They looked so pretty and very fitting for the occasion. Although, you were most excited with what you had in mind for a few of them. Some of which, you decorate with little Carnival clown smiles. Using decorative colored frostings that matched Carnival's clown makeup.

The smile on your face continues to grow wider with every smile you draw. You knew how much Arthur loves performing as the clown. So you just know that he would adore these.

Once finished, you placed the decorated fruit in the fridge so the chocolate could fully harden. They all came out perfect, especially the Carnival ones. You get everything else ready- washing the wine glasses and bagging up the gift. Then you eagerly await Arthur's arrival.

Soon enough, you hear his usual little shuffle outside the door and your heart leaps. You rush to greet him at the entrance, nearly tripping over your own feet in excitement.

Arthur steps inside and his eyes brighten as he smiles at you. In his arms, he's carrying a beautiful bouquet of flowers, a box of chocolates, and an envelope. He holds them out for you.

"Hey y/n, happy Valentine's day!"

"Oh, thank you so much baby!" You graciously receive his gifts. The flowers look so radiant, you bury your nose in them. "Ah, they smell lovely."

"Yeah, I picked out the very best ones for you." He nervously rubs the back of his neck. "I.. I know it's not much. But I hope you like it."

You look at him, unable to accept what he just said. Because to you, this is a lot. You know that Arthur must have saved up a lot of his hard earned money to buy you these things, when he really didn't have to. So you make sure to let him know how much you truly appreciate his gifts and his efforts. "Aw Arthur, what do you mean? This is amazing, I love it! I can't thank you enough for this, baby."

Reassured by your words, he leans in and gives you a kiss on your forehead. He is always so sweet and loving to you. "You're welcome, my love. Do you want me to hold those so you can open that?" He points to the envelope in your hand.

"Actually um, I have something that I want to show you first. Is it alright if I open this up right after?"

"Sure."

He follows you from the entryway into the kitchen. His eyes instantly widen in awe at the sight before him.

"Happy Valentine's day to you too, Arthur!" You exclaim with glee.

There on the kitchen counter, he spots a small gift bag with a heart-shaped balloon neatly tied to it. Along with two wine glasses and a platter full of chocolate covered strawberries. He notices the little Carnival smiles on some of the fruit and his eyes gleam with happiness.

He's left speechless. It takes him a moment to take it all in. He doesn't know where to even start, so you set the items in your arms down and take his hand to guide him.

"Would you like to open your gift?"

He gives a yes and you hand him his gift to open. He reaches inside and pulls out the neatly wrapped belt. Running his fingers along the leather material as he tries not to cry or break out in a laughing fit. He's been needing one of these for a while and he appreciates that you had noticed. "I love it! Thank you so much, my love."

You place a soft kiss on his cheek. "You're very welcome."

He sets the article down then sheepishly moves to caress one of the strawberries. Rather delicately, as he is afraid that he'll mess them up. He traces the red smile, taking in all the details. It's an exact likeness to his Carnival makeup. "These are- wow. You made these?"

"Yep." You can't help but giggle at his tender display of sweetness, "and it's alright, Arthur. You can pick them up. I made them just for you."

He does so at your word. Picking one up to closely admire the little red smile. You take the time to pull the wine from the fridge and pour a glass for both of you. All the while he thanks you repeatedly for the gifts. It fills you with warmth. You are delighted that he likes his Valentine's day gifts.

You hug him tightly and move in for a kiss, taking this time to thank and love one another with your mouths. As you pull away, you reply, "and thank you for my gifts, baby. How about I open up that envelope now?"

"Yeah," Arthur agrees. "I'll get it for you."

He picks it up and hands it to you. There are a bunch of tiny scribbled hearts all over the envelope. You smile at the fact that he drew them on there. Written also in his handwriting is my love in the middle of the cover. Opening it up, you find a handwritten letter from Arthur inside. You silently read the entire note, letting out a small sigh at a few sections. He poured all his love out for you in that letter.

Tears formed in your eyes, and you sniffle as you wipe them away. "I love you so much, Arthur."

"I love you too, beautiful." Arthur grins heartily and hands you a strawberry.

Simultaneously, you each silently take a bite and stare lovingly into each others eyes. Both wondering how you'd gotten so lucky.

#into-crazy #arthur fleck #arthur fleck imagine #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x you #joker 2019 #phoenix!joker #valentine's day

[ajokeformur-ray]

Sometimes I wanna talk about the very real ways in which Arthur Fleck saved my life in 2019, but I never do so to the full extent because a) it would most likely trigger some people and I don’t wanna do that at all, especially not in the name of expressing myself, and b) some things are meant to stay between you and the bathroom floor at 3am.

It’s impressive how many times Arthur Fleck has given me the strength to save myself, to scoop myself up off the floor at 3am after crying my eyes out, to not follow my intrusive thoughts of cutting all my hair off because I feel so often like I don’t deserve happiness and my hair is one of the few parts of my body I truly love and feel a connection to, to make a meal when I would rather skip and let myself rot, to not want to go to work but doing it anyway because I know it’s what he would want, to take my time brushing my hair because he wouldn’t want me to hurt myself just to get it done faster, to take care of myself when I just don’t care anymore, to try when I don’t think I have it in me anymore… the amount of strength, joy, courage, determination, and “I’ll just do it for one more day” I’ve received from him, is immeasurable. I got a job in a care home, which gifts me with the opportunity of being able to help people because he inspired that in me. I’m doing a psychology with counselling honours degree because I want to help the real life Arthurs of the world, like my brother, who slip between the societal cracks never to return again unless someone is willing to dig them out. He changed my life, saved it, made it better, taught me better ways of being, healthier ways.

Arthur Fleck really DID save my life, he saved me in 2019 and many a time since, and I’ll forever and ever and ever be grateful for the fact that the world got gifted with such a phenomenal character. I’ll truly carry him with me forever, always trying to do and be in ways he would be proud of, as a way to honour all the things he’s given me the strength to do, all the times he’s helped me to save myself. I would not be HERE, I would not be who I am or where I am, if it hadn’t been for Arthur. It sounds so dramatic, but I can’t properly articulate the seriousness of this post. The people who know, though, know.

I just… I’m curled up in bed right now watching Joker and eating coffee ice cream to sign off the end of another busy day which is full of too much work, too much stress, and not enough time. My body isn’t enough, most days, for all the things I have to squeeze into one day every day, but here right now, under my Joker blanket and hugging my Joker cushion while I watch the film and let my body and mind rest, I feel the most at peace I’ve been all week. My chest is still a little tight, but by the end of the film, that’ll totally go away. Arthur literally and metaphorically makes it easier to breathe and that’s everything.

It seems a bit… redundant to say that I love Arthur Fleck, but I do. I really do.

#tw; vent #tw; suicidal ideation #(implication only but still obvious enough that I feel the need to tag it) #this is mostly an appreciation post for our clown boy

[rosesloveletters]

Happy Birthday, Erika! 🎈🥳 

Just another gift set for an amazing girl — @ajokeformur-ray — whom I am lucky enough to call “sister”. I hope your birthday is magical, darling, but if not, then we’ll just have to make September even more magical to make up for it. I hope you like everything contained within this post, but if not, I am always happy to make something else. Your physical gifts will be waiting for you when you arrive in September so we can do an in-person gift exchange for the first time!! I’m SO EXCITED to see you again and to give you lots and lots of hugs🥹🫂 

I love you so very much and I miss you TONS! Our holiday cannot get here fast enough!! I’m still counting down the days until you’re here with me again -- I think we’re down to only 43 days now? Damn, time moves fast... all the more reason to give you all the love while you’re here with me❤️🫂

Happiest of birthdays to you, darling. Year 26 will be kind to you (or else) 😂❤️

First, a handwritten letter from me: 

Second, some fics:

Timeless // Erika x Arthur Fleck/Joker

summary: You reflect back on this past academic year and remind yourself why you chose this specific, very important path. // ‘You needed each other and you needed time; good thing, then, this love was timeless.’

THIS is the song that inspired this fic✨💜

word count: 2,110

Another year, come and gone, but it never happened as easily as it was said. You’d had to fight your way out of the dark this time, as you had so many times before, and by the time you emerged into the daylight it didn’t feel so much like a reward as it should have. They say that when one had to go to war for what they want, reaping the rewards was hardly the justice or benefit that one deserves and now you knew how true that seemed to be. It wasn’t meant to come easily to you, if that were the case, would it even have been worth doing? Perhaps you didn’t know the answer, or if you did, you were disinclined to speak it into existence, but that did not matter in the here and now. It was finished for another year. You had the time to heal, to lick your wounds and prepare yourself for the next battle. The time for self-recognition would come and when it did, hopefully you would feel whole enough to put it into words.

You sipped your coffee at the kitchen table that your lover had made you. You felt so small and insignificant during these quiet moments, but it wasn’t a bad thing – if you could only merely exist, then exist here. These four walls transcended time; the only things which grounded you to this era were the distant, grainy hum of the record player as its’ current tune twisted and wreathed about the apartment and Arthur’s warm hand over top of yours, his thumb tracing your slightly protruding knuckles.

It was calm in the aftermath, but you and your lover both knew how much and how long and how hard you had had to fight to achieve even this. This single moment that you treasured so much, would soon be tucked away in the lockbox beneath your bed of all the other times just like this one. You kept them all for a rainy day, to remind yourself of what all of this was about, but most days it seemed that the sun never shined and the rain poured down in sheets.

It was never meant to be like this. You were supposed to want this, arguably more than you wanted him because if you didn’t then how were you ever supposed to succeed? How would you show to him how important he was to you if you couldn’t even do this? Your love language was acts of service and this would be the greatest act of love you had ever given a person; it had to be perfect.

It had to be one of those fairy-tale moments that most of us spend our whole lives trying to recreate, but you had to capture this one. Your castle was crumbling to the ground and instead of relying on your prince to build it back up from the ground, you would straighten your crown and get to work. Was it even worth it anymore if you couldn’t do it alone?

“I’m proud of you,” Arthur whispered, cutting through the fog in your mind, reaching out of your hand to pull you to the surface of the water so you wouldn’t drown in the self-doubt, “you always manage to get it just right. I know you can’t see it, but I do.”

The smallest of smiles graced your lips, but his words meant more than just a simple acknowledgement. They were the reason. The reason you clung to, why you dragged yourself out of bed every morning at 5am even when you were exhausted to the point of collapse, why you sat at your desk for hours, day after day, fighting for the girl of the rest of your life who didn’t really know what she was in for, but whom you advocated for each day because she would get there. She would appreciate all this someday, even if this version of you thought about quitting every hour on the hour.

“Thank you,” you replied to him, “you see what I go through. You know that none of it is easy, but I’d put myself through hell every day for you and I wouldn’t even complain.”

The ‘not complaining’ part might not have been entirely true, but you knew he knew what you meant and the smile of acknowledgement on his face told you that he did. He saw you in the trenches every day, he brought you liters of coffee and snacks so you wouldn’t go without. He would drape a blanket around your shoulders if you seemed cold or he would bring in a box fan if you were too hot. He’d encourage you to take small breaks here or there so your eyes did not become strained from looking at your screen for long periods. His job was just as important as yours, though he would’ve argued his was much more important because, after all, your wellbeing was far more important to him than most else.

You’d had the courage to stick to your studies for yet another year, but the last several months had not been kind to you and you were holding your breath for when you might finally catch a break. You had struggled through dozens of doctors’ appointments, seeking out a clear path for recovery from your anxiety that hopefully did not include medication. You had also gotten a wicked-looking infection in your pinky toe that took a month before you saw any healing going on. As if your studies weren’t enough to deal with, everything else that had piled on to you in the last month or two almost made you collapse, but you would carry that weight if it meant you might have another chance to achieve your dream occupation.

You could hold on a little longer, but the fall was tempting, especially knowing that Arthur would always be there to catch you.

How you had managed to bring this year of university to as natural of a close seemed like you had defied all possible logic, but it was over. You finally caught up. This leg of the race was over and you could pause to catch your breath before the next one.

Despite how crazy things had gotten there at the finish line, Arthur was there for you, cheering you on from the sidelines the same way he had done every year prior to this one. While you were trying to work out the best possible method of treatment for your anxiety, when the doctors had you trying medication, Arthur let you stand in the kitchen with him and take your meds at the same time as he did. He was aware of how terrified you were to do this and he would have done everything in his power to make this easier on you. If sharing in a routine as domestic as this helped your nerves even slightly, he’d have done it in a heartbeat. He always paused, waiting until you were ready before he tilted his head back and swallowed his own pills, followed by a sip of water to wash them down.

When you were too afraid to look at your swollen, blood-blistered toe to check if it was healing properly, Arthur had guided you into your small bathroom, sat you down and taken your foot carefully in his lap to have a closer look. He cleaned and rebandaged you, offering small, murmured words of comfort while you kept your eyes on his face rather than on the injury.

He had always known exactly what to do and how to handle it, even and especially when you didn’t. This was why he was your guide and for this reason alone, you gave all that you were. You would have given him the entire world, but he did not want the world when he had his dream girl right here with him now. He wanted his talented, intelligent, steadfast, loving, considerate, sweet girl, Erika, and there would be nothing that could ever stand in his way of having you, even yourself.

The tides of self-sabotage came crashing against your shores every once in a while, but Arthur’s soothing words and presence could calm the most violent of oceans, even wading out into the open water up to his neck, because he wasn’t afraid of drowning in your love. He knew what it felt like worry you were not good enough for someone and he knew enough that he did not ever want you to feel that way too. He would do everything he could to spare you from the worst of what he felt, even if he could not save you from it, he could share the weight of that burden. He was not letting you go through this alone. It wasn’t like him to abandon anyone, least of all his most beloved one.

“I know you’ll have to do all this again in a few months’ time,” Arthur whispered to you now, “and I’ll be here. Even if it’s hard…especially if it’s hard. I’m not going anywhere; I promise you that. I love you, Erika.”

His words comforted you, blanketed your mind in a warm embrace and almost brought tears to your eyes if you’d had any left to cry. No matter how many times the world broke you, Arthur always picked up the pieces and put you back together.

He was the reason you had picked this career path anyway and you would remember it every step of the way. It could be done because you had the strength of love on your side. You would pick yourself up again, over and over, let yourself be washed out to sea, treading water until Arthur came to rescue you. He would always be there to give you his hand and guide you back to shore.  

It wasn’t because he thought you couldn’t do it alone, but because he didn’t want you to do it alone. There would be plenty of times in life when you would find yourself alone, but not now, not if he could help it. He had every reason to stick around and show you how beautiful life could be, even though it rained every day in your world. If it rained, he would be your sunshine. He would be the light in your darkness and would save you from the side of yourself which threatened that you weren’t good enough for him, because you were.

He did not know how he had been lucky enough to capture a heart like yours, but he treasured your love as the greatest gift he had ever received. There was nothing he would not have done for his beloved and he was determined to show that to you as often as he could, so that you might remember on days when the sun never shined that he was there and would break through your storm clouds and let the light in.

You both missed the simpler times, when you had fallen so deeply, madly and irreversibly in love all those years ago, but what you had now was even more than you’d imagined back then. You had years on your younger selves now and much more wisdom about what you wanted and hoped for and dreamed of, but much more importantly…you had each other.

Even if you didn’t have it all figured out yet, you did not need to. You had more time and many more years with each other to do that. For now, you were safe to carry on as you were, taking it all a day at a time, sometimes even an hour at a time, because that was all you needed.

It hit you, all at once, that you would have loved him in any timeline, whether you were his Erika as you were now, or if you had been a young, Victorian girl and he a foot servant. Or perhaps you might have been a quiet girl, reading in the school cafeteria during the 80s and he a strong, independent, older student who played the part of dungeons and dragons game master on the weekends and also played guitar.

Yours and Arthurs was the kind of love that surpassed the timeline your physical forms occupied. You would always know this one as yours, but had it been another, you would have found him and loved him.

You needed that much, at least, because in order to keep going, you needed him the same way you needed air.

You needed each other and you needed time; good thing, then, this love was timeless.

Aftermath // Erika x Henry Jekyll (parental) - Mary Reilly & Edward Hyde (mentioned)

summary: By now, you are used to your parents taking a step back while you focus on your studies, but it never gets any easier. // You and your Father fall into a routine, once again, and it all begins to make a bit more sense. 

word count: 1,515

In the aftermath, there was nothing except numbness. An overwhelming sense of emptiness filled you and you were uncertain how long it was going to take to recover, or even if you would be able to this time.

It had always happened this way and, even still, you worried. How could it not be anxiety-inducing to feel like you had everyone on your side at the start, then fight your way through university only to cross the finish line and feel like no one was there waiting to congratulate you. It wasn’t true, however, except that some of your most important people seemed to be nonexistent now: your parents.

You knew it wasn’t true; your parents would never abandon you. Then why did it always feel like they had done just that?

It was a part of you now, the sense of not belonging anywhere that you tried so desperately to fit in, and you were used to this. You got so overwhelmed by your studies that you isolated yourself from your loved ones until it was over and then, then, you could slowly allow yourself to return to them. You took after your Father in this way, even though he never would have wanted that for you. He wanted to serve as a guide for you throughout your studies, but he did not want you to push your family away until you felt like you deserved them.

You always deserved your Father, your Mama and your Papa, no matter the outcome for your studies or anything similar. You did not have to earn your right to them. They were always there, silently waiting in the wings until you would come to acknowledge that.

You could see the light at the end of the tunnel and even though this particular year of university had more than metaphorically kicked you in the ass, you were relieved to have made it through and were taking your time in preparing for the next one. It would be unlike any other because now you were going to have to draw on previous years’ knowledge and information to understand the upcoming one. You would be responsible for revisions of last year’s work, condensing it down to manageable, bite-sized pieces so you could rely on what you had already done to guide you through the next maze.

An overwhelming sense of dread was hitting you now and you were already fearful of what the next year might bring. The previous year had already been too much at once and you needed something to ground you and keep you focused on the future, rather than on the past.

This was why you always, always turned to your Father for help.

Once you had officially eased back into daily life with your parents by your side, you were able to reconnect with who you were. You worked alongside your Mama during the mornings, then you would find your Father camped out in his study or in the library and he would lend a hand with your studies or simply allow you to work with him in silence. Your nights were reserved for your Papa and all the delightful chaos and titillating tidbits he would bring, but for now, you needed your Father.

Your studies had to come first because your future depended on it.

For this reason did you find yourself nestled into your usual spot in the library, surrounded by a sea of papers, while your Father quietly did the same at his own workspace. You were hard at work on revisions and notetaking, keeping your head down and your eyes focused on what you were doing. If you allowed yourself to relax for even a second, you feared you would lose focus and stop entirely and your future could not afford to suffer simply because you did not feel like working right now.

Your Father peeked at you past the open books he had on his own desk. He scrawled handwritten notes in his notebook – never would he have felt comfortable writing in the margins of his beloved textbooks like your Papa so often did (he was going to find a way to end that once and for all, but we all know that Edward Hyde worked for no one except himself.)

His face softened as he regarded you from afar, taking pleasure knowing that your work ethic had come from him. He only worried that you would overwork yourself in the same ways that he had and that it would begin to take its toll in the very same way. He worried, like all good fathers did, and he wanted you to know that you were doing just fine and that you did not need to overthink yourself into a rut like he was prone to do.

“Erika,” he whispered, not wanting to disturb you, but also because he wanted to gently get your attention shifted from your studies and onto him. When you looked up from your papers, he began, “I want you to know…that I am proud of all the work that you have done. And, even more than that, I am proud of you.”

You let the words sink in and settle beneath your skin. It felt good to be complimented by your Father. It felt like all of this would be worth it, then, all the struggles and hardships and battles and cries…it meant something beyond all of that because you would never have achieved all that you had if you were not a part of who your parents were. You could not have continued to work as well as keep up with your studies if you did not have your Mama’s perseverance and determination. You could not have achieved such perfect marks and maintained lengthy hours of study if you did not have your Father’s work ethic and knack for comprehending difficult concepts. And, you could not have continued to push forward through all of the difficulty and strife had you not possessed your Papa’s stubbornness not to give up despite when perhaps any other person would have.

You were your own person, but in turn, you were made up of little pieces of who they were and that made you Erika. You were a beautiful, intelligent, strong, independent, caring, devoted and inspirational young woman and you made your parents proud every step of the way, even during times when you felt you had done the complete opposite.

“Thank you, Father,” you responded to him and you smiled, perhaps the realest one you had offered him in quite some time and this sentiment was not lost on him. Not much escaped your Father’s attention, especially when it came to his beloved daughter whom he loved more than himself.

You were his greatest work, his greatest masterpiece and the person he was most proud of in the world. He would have done anything and everything he could for you, letting you know every step of the way how proud he was of the woman you were growing into. He would be there now and forever and on your graduation day, whenever that came, he would be standing there knowing that he had seen you through this from the very beginning. It might not have seemed like much from an outsider’s perspective, but to him, it meant more than the world to witness his daughter chasing her future and, one day, it would be in the palm of her hand. He had faith in her abilities, even when she questioned whether she could do it. He always knew that if anyone could achieve this seemingly impossible dream, it was her.

There was nothing she could not do if she set her sights on it and kept persevering. It was only a matter of time before she was moving on to the next phase of her lifelong journey and he wanted to do everything in his power to stand by her and watch her reap the benefits of her hard work. He would gently remind her throughout all this that she deserved these positive things and that it might be difficult, but nothing was more worth her time than her future and for that he was proud to know she agreed.

He got up from his chair and approached her, leaning over her shoulder to assess her work. He was proud of how much she had accomplished so far and he smiled at her, making sure she knew he was pleased. You might have expected him to turn away, then, but no. He gently brought his arms around your shoulders and embraced you.

It had been a long time since he had hugged you properly and as you leaned into him, all-consumed by this sudden display of affection and emotion, you let two tears slide down your cheeks. You were happy now, right where you needed to be. Your parents had not abandoned you. They were right here, always a part of you no matter where you went and you still had so many places yet to go.  

Third, a poem I wrote: 

A Universal Cosmic Collision

God didn’t make us sisters because we would have been too powerful together but everything I’ve done since I met you is a love letter to the person I wanted to be whom I will never get to know — sweep me under the rug, that’s the thing about letting go: I won’t know the girl who never existed but to you I hold fast, tight-fisted, because I know a good thing when I’ve got it even if I didn’t to begin with, I’ll admit that I’m a bit overwhelmed by you. Calling someone “sister” isn’t something I’m used to, but if I was to bestow that honor upon anyone, In every lifetime, in every universal cosmic collision, you would be my most beloved one.

I never knew how much better life could be until you showed me.

I hope you like your online gifts, darling! I am so grateful to know you and to be able to celebrate you like this💗🫂 Please let me know if I can make anything else for you, dear. I love you so so so much and I cannot wait to hug you again in a little over a month! I am wishing you the very happiest of birthdays today and I hope you know that even though today is a very special day, that you make every single day of mine special just by being a part of it. I love you💗💗

#made with love :: 💛

[averytiredhuman]

Broken Arrow

The warm scolding summer sun burned the skin of the unknown woman. Her bare feet blister as the Nevada desert sand burns, and her body is bright red and covered in dust and dirt. Mud forms as the tears seep from her green eyes, her lips chapped and ripped from being dry, her throat burns as she breathes, and the dirty torn dress she was forced to wear clung to her skin as she sweats. She was thin and not from going to the gym or from a diet, no months of only being fed once a week has taken its toll. Her legs quiver as she takes an unsteady step towards what she thinks is the main road, and her eyes burn as she looks up – how could this happen to her? How could a straightforward day of doing important work turn into her screaming, crying, bleeding and clawing her way to freedom? How could she have let it happen?

As her barren feet touch the scolding paved road she began to cry out in joy, she fell to her knees but soon stood up when she heard the rumble of a car, her bone-like arms swung up as she tried to flag down the car, and she was successful, it was – surprisingly, a police vehicle, as it came to a halt a man and a woman jumped out “Are you alright?” the voice in the back of her mind made a sarcastic comment of ‘do I look like I am?’ only as she opened her mouth to speak a cry of pure and utter pain ripped past her lips “Call it in, let’s get her to a hospital.” The last she spoke as the male officer carried her to the car was her name “Athena”

Athena stares blankly at the off-white wall, her mind is still and busy, both at the same time. Athena’s family stood outside the hospital room, “She hasn’t spoken yet, but that’s understandable. Her throat and her vocal cords have extensive scarring.” Nora – Athena’s mother clutched her husband’s shirt as she cries silently “I am sorry to say, Mr and Mrs Arthur, it seems that your daughter has gone through horrific torture and I am so sorry.” Her family breaks down, and her father, Ryan’s face is hard, and his eyes are broken. He rubs his large hand up and down his wife’s back to soothe her, his voice is hoarse as he spoke “Have the police spoken to her yet?” the doctor shakes his head “They are coming in later today to speak to her.”

Her mind keeps going back to her torturing, she could still feel the sting of her skin and muscle being ripped open by the whip as it touched her back, the man’s voice – gruff as if he smoked one too many cigarettes and ended its light on her skin 'You deserve this, this is your fault, you did this to yourself.' His voice plays like a broken record. Athena’s eyes snap to the glass door as it slides open, her body goes rigid fear flashes through her eyes “Miss Arthur?” her head moves stiffly, up once, down, stop. Her eyes followed the man as he sat in front of her bed, her eyes took in every detail of his face. A greying scruff covers his chin and cheeks, lines run from his eyes and a harsh one between his eyebrows, and his hair – although still brown, has flecks of grey in between them “My name is Anton, I’m a detective with the Special Operations unit," her eyes follows his lips as they move. The detective’s eyes soak in her details, her light brown hair is still matted, longer than the photo they have of her, her full lips are chapped, her porcelain skin holds scars that he would never wish upon his greatest enemy, her eyes, her eyes are what make his heart wrench and her stomach churn, the dull green colour of her eyes held so much pain and so much fear and terror. Her hand clenched the large, white hospital pillow to her chest, hiding most of her body from him. Anton moved his chair a whole foot from her bed and this seemed to calm her, her hands no longer clenched at the large pillow, but it was still held to her body. “I’m going to ask you a few simple questions, and if you aren’t comfortable with them please let me know.” Her head moves up and down again slowly “I’m going to have to ask this, to get it out of the way. Were, were, you raped?” her eyes snapped up, and her head shook forcefully, Anton nodded and wrote down in his notebook. After extensive questions and only a shake or a nod from Athena, he told her he was going to come back another time.

During her time in the hospital, Athena sat idle, staring at the drywall, blinking only when her eyes were drying. In the room with her once a week a psychiatrist sat on a chair several feet away from her, the doctor’s hair is always twisted in a neat bun, her face is framed with thin lines, and her thin lips are painted light pink, Athena refuses to speak to the doctor – who after the third hour of Athena’s silence told her, her name. Athena blinked twice at the name of Dayna Fraser, during the rest of the week Dayna was given more information about herself than she had received.

Athena still sat, silent until a cold Friday morning, she had moved from her tight seat against the wall on her bed, to the soft cushioned seat by the window. Her light green eyes now stared at the water falling from the dark clouds in the sky “He never allowed me to see the rain.” Her voice is still gruff, Dayna could tell that it used to be soft, and smooth when rolling from her tongue. “The water used to pour into the room he kept me in, I could tell it was some sort of basement, the windows were as small as a four-by-four plank, thick rusted steel bars covered them.” Athena turns her head to the older woman, “I’m sorry, I have been very rude to you.” Dayna lifts her hand with a silver pen held between the thumb and the ring finger, “No need for apologies, I understand.” Athena turns her head back slowly to the window again. “He calls himself Ares,” a sound of displeasure came from her throat. “He thought it was fitting due to my name.” Athena’s eyes follow droplets that race to the bottom “I, I thought that I was going to be raped, killed after he had his fun, only he never did that, he never sexually touched me, it was as if my body offended him.” Her right-hand moves from the pillow, fingers rubbing over the red-stained bandages that are wrapped around her torso, “He started with simply cutting, small cuts that healed within a day or two, it wasn’t after I stopped my crying – five days after he took me, that’s when he began whipping me, I remembered for the first fifteen days I screamed until my throat bled, I – I could taste the blood as it dripped down my throat.” Her left-hand clutches the pillow tighter as her right moves from her torso to her neck, “he held me on a bed for the first three weeks, after that he strung me up, I remember how he left me to hang there until my shoulders popped out of their sockets, first my left then my right.” Her shoulders rolled back as if to pop them back in, there was a light pop that could be heard, it was loud to both women.

The next day, Athena sat in the same spot as the day before, in the same position, only her hair is now braided – washed, she is no longer in the given hospital wear, and her mother had dropped off a pair of black sweatpants and an old jersey from her university days. “You've changed clothing.” Athena’s green eyes are now framed by gold and brown framed spectacles “You wear glasses?” Athena’s head bobs, once up, once down, stop. Same as it’s been since she arrived, her body is still ridged, muscles tight, her slender bone-like fingers holding on tight onto a new smaller white pillow. Dayna could now see more of Athena's body as it was no longer covered with a large hospital pillow the black sweatpants were falling from her body, she is no longer the size 34 or medium that she formally used to be, now with the bones of her skeleton poking at the thin porcelain skin, still slightly red from her hours spent burning in the sun – it was a gift and a curse of Athena, no matter what she does she cannot tan, her veins and arteries could be visible, tendons move like worms as she moves a finger or wiggles a toe, her cheekbones are more defined, her eyes are sunken dark iron-deficient circles lines the bottom of her eyes. Her green eyes still follow the water droplets from the heavy rain outside, “I’ve recommended you to a PTSS group.” Athena’s eyes slowly move from the window to the doctor, a small smile on her chapped lips ``If you believe it may help.” Dayna’s dark brown eyes follow her lips as it moves, her eyes hold so much pain and fear, she’s falling into an act, one that can fool many. Athena turns her body toward the doctor, this is the first time in a week and a half that she shows an invitation, only her body is still covered by the pillow. “I remembered something last night.” The doctor nodded, “He called me Arrow, and he said ‘An arrow broken can still be shot, it just needs to be modified. I found it to be something that echoes in my mind at times.” The doctor wrote down the phrase.

#writing #creative writing #women writers #writeblr

[gncrevan]

Details as to the Joker sequel’s plot have thus far been kept under wraps, though we know that Todd Phillips is returning as director. As was the case on the original film, he co-wrote the script with Scott Silver. We hear that Gaga will play Harley Quinn — the Arkham Asylum shrink who falls in love with her patient Arthur Fleck aka Joker — though her version of the character will be a DC universe apart from Margot Robbie’s in the Suicide Squad films.

i say this as an OG jokerharley stan: please stop. nobody wants to see this. gaga made some epic jokerharley amv songs, she deserves better than this. we all deserve better than this.

this whole project sounds bad on so many levels. it completely defeats the purpose of the joker movie, which was to stand on its own in a universe that does not have any of the batman lore & characters. at least that was a somewhat original concept, unlike telling the same story over and over again for the purpose of cashing in on one of the batman universe's most iconic storyline. but the reason mad love works in b:tas is that it's cartoon violence and cartoon logic. adapting it for the silver screen ends up just telling a story of abuse.

(and like i wanna be clear that there is a way to make this less a descent into violent madness and more an access to freedom through positive nihilism, but let's be real let's be honest that's never what the films do, is it? and even then, their relationship would never be healthy, would it?)

the most likely reason suicide squad so heavily re-cut the scenes of joker and harley, to the point of dubbing in an explanation for him pushing her out of a helicopter, is that they were just too violent and depressing. you can't portray their dynamic realistically, with real people, without it getting very hard to watch very fast. the only way i could see an adaption work is either in heightened comic style, or as a dark psychological thriller about obsession (the most appropriate film version of their general character concepts that i've seen is actually "she's so lovely", which adds its own layer of horribleness given sean penn's history of domestic violence, and the film co-starring his then-wife, but i digress.)

jokerharley is for comics, animation and gritty videogames. please just leave it there, nobody needs to see a bisexual woman manipulated and brutalized right now, do we

#joker #harley quinn #lady gaga #joaquin phoenix #todd phillips #also can i just add i dont trust the guy who made the hangover movies with the topic of misogynistic violence and domestic abuse #🔪🔪🔪🔪 #mistah j #crazy clown duo in love #opinion piece

[arthurflecc]

chuckletown’s most beloved scenes: @jokerownsmysoul / @lovingonarthur 💙

#joker #joker 2019 #jokeredit #joker2019edit #arthur fleck #my gifs #queue #where do I even BEGIN there's so much to say!!!! #you're definitely one of the most wonderful people I've ever met on tumblr ❤️ following you is delightful #you're so fun to talk to I love how enthusiastically you talk about arthur 😍 #I think arthur is so lucky to have you because you're perfect for each other you are what he deserves!!! 😭 #if arthur were with you I'd feel peace in my heart knowing he's in good hands 🥺💙 #flahur is definitely one of the most endearing things in this fandom I love reading about it everyday 🥺 #I love how passionate and romantic you are - you exude so much love and warmth #and you're so emotionally strong and intelligent I admire you and I'm proud of you #you're an incredibly talented writer - reading your stories helps me imagine an intimate relationship with him #and I really cherish that because you've brought me closer to him through your words #not just through fics but also our conversations on here and on discord #your edits and drawings are great too!!! you're so talented and artistic you have a beautiful soul #and don't even get me started on how nice and kind you are to everyone #you've made so many people feel loved and appreciated by your lovely comments and tags #I'm sure you've made many people's days (mine included) #to me you are the person who makes this fandom /a fandom/ for all of us - you are the glue #it is an HONOR to call you a friend and to be in this fandom with you 💙💙💙

[jokerownsmysoul]

Joker (2019) and Dying Gaul (transl. Galata morente, c.. 220 BCE), Roman marble copy of Greek bronze original. ❤︎

#one of the first posts I've ever made in this blog when I joined was about this comparison 💙 #I've been meaning to come back to it for months because the similarity of these two works #Still manages to take my breath away #Probably because I'm very veeery fond of this sculpture. It has a special meaning and place in my heart #And the first thing I thought looking at this Joekr pic was that he was very similar to the dying gaul #But probably not who knows. What I know is that I want to talk about this comparison again #It blows my mind and makes me cry. It's beautiful #I cringe a bit about the way I set up that old post lmao #But the tumblr world was so new to me and my English wasn't the best #But I do believe in what I wrote in that post and would write it over and over again. Every single word of it💙 #It's too special for me this comparison and I love this Joker pic so much. A favorite #As it is a favorite this sculpture #The moment when he gets up from the car is so important and one day I hope to talk about it as it deserves #Because ugh the things I have to say #Something about Arthur getting up on his feet after all that happened really gets me #Anyway #My edit #arthur fleck #joker 2019

[imasimpforstevengrant]

ARTHUR - SASSY VIBES

| Because he knows he's the true star of the 2020 Oscars.

#Joker 2019 #2019 joker #joker film #joker movie #Joaquin Phoenix #Joaquin Phoenix joker #Joaquin is so hot omg #Arthur Fleck #Arthur Fleck imagine #arthur x reader #Arthur Fleck Joker #Oscars 2020 #I swear if he doesn't win... #BECAUSE HE GETS WHAT HE FUCKING DESERVES #clown daddy #he should own like five actually

[hugotontheonbiquiffinarians]

Alignment Chart ~ (Arthur Fleck Edition)

#arthur fleck #joker #joker 2019 #joaquin phoenix #1st of all... i went through hell making this... lol #dante's inferno times oblivion #2ndly the choice of imagery used for 'depressed bastard' is relevant bc objectively he is a bastard child #finally a little backstory on 'edgy bastard'... my mkv file suspiciously went corrupt @ that specific time stamp #so i could only get him laughing bc the speaking duration stutters and pauses unfortunately #& i certainly wasn't going through the process of redownloading a 4gb file lmao #the text is bothering me too but i guess ps said 'you get what you fucking deserve'

[five-miles-over]

Could you pleaaaase do flirting headcanons for joker and Arthur fleck? 😍 I bet he can be a charmer~

Thank you for your patience with this ask, anon!

Flirting Headcanons for Arthur Fleck and Joker

Arthur Fleck

Arthur's style of flirting is almost reminiscent of a schoolboy, in my opinion 

He's someone who's been inspired by old Hollywood films and music from the Golden Age

His definition of "flirting" might consist of doing a little dance routine, maybe something reminiscent of Fred Astaire. If he can get someone to play a little music, he'd be more than happy to have "The Way You Look Tonight" or "Cheek to Cheek" play while he performs for you.

the little dance might end with him giving you a little bow, and you would clap for him

"Thanks…You liked it?" He ambles towards you, his hands clasped in front of him like a little boy

"Yeah, I liked it. It was very cute."

"I'm cute? Thanks…uh, you're…you're beautiful." Arthur swayed a little. "Would you…Do you wanna get, maybe a coffee together sometime?"

After the two of you start dating, Arthur would definitely continue flirting with you in the most innocent of ways 

He'd surprise you with a flower, maybe a candy bar, and yes, another dance routine just to make you adore him

All in all, he'd be very respectful and naive with his flirting,

Joker

Joker's style of flirting is 1000x more forward and direct than Arthur's 

If he finds a person that catches his fancy, he'll probably just walk up to them and offer a smooth compliment

He might get their attention with a touch, maybe lightly grab their arm and get into their personal space

"I don't think I've seen you here before. What's your name, doll?"

After you tell him your name, he'd nod approvingly and inch his fingers towards your cheek.  

"How about I buy you a drink?…It's getting crazier out there. Let me put a smile on you." 

When the Joker flirts, he likes to say things in such a way that lets you know that he's the one in control, that he's the one who deserves your time and attention, and that you're the only one he wants. 

#joaquin phoenix #joaquin phoenix joker #arthur fleck headcanons #joker arthur fleck #arthur fleck #joker 2019 #joker movie #joker joaquin phoenix

[pcrushinnerd]

The Cat, Chapter 23

Warnings: Language. Lack of cat.

A/N: Sorry for not updating in a bit. Adult life getting in the way, unfortunately. Also sorry for the lack of Arthur himself in these latest chapters, but hopefully some of what I have here and coming up will make up for it, including something in this chapter I’m sure we all wanted to see in the movie but didn’t get, unfortunately.

....

You sat at home alone that night. Poured yourself some whiskey, before poring over the file again.

There had to be something. Something among all the bullshit that could prove Arthur was still…Arthur Fleck. Penny’s boy. Precisely who he always thought he was. Maybe more.

Something that could pull him back from the precipice that he not only seemed to be leaning toward, but smiling into.

You went back to the newspaper clippings. They did name the boyfriend; you wrote down his name with disgust, but doubted it would lead to anything. Supposedly he was already 20 years Penny’s senior at the time. Fucker had probably already drunk himself into his grave.

Something else about the articles caught your attention.

.....

During your first break the next day at work, you used all the databases and other directories at your fingertips to look up the boyfriend. As you suspected—dead as a door nail. Good, you thought. Though it didn’t exactly help your cause.

Taking a later lunch, you sat at your desk and dialed the Gotham Gazette. “Hello there,” you answered, falling into your old accent. “I was just wonderin’ if certain reporters still worked there?”

“Uh, sure.... What’re their names?” a younger male voice asked.

You looked down at your notes. “Sal Rosenbluth?”

A laugh sounded through the phone. “Gee, lady, 20 years too late. He retired ages ago.”

Your heart sunk a little. “Well, hope he’s enjoyin’ his retirement....” you fished.

“He died 10 years ago. Who are the others?”

Just one other name was penciled into your notebook: “B. R. Smith?”

Another groan. “Oh yeah, he’s definitely still here. Will probably drop dead at his desk someday.”

“If he is there now can ya be so kind as to transfer me to him?”

“Wha—who should I say is calling for him?”

“Uh, Louise Stewart. I work for...” you looked down at the early Christmas card from your company’s competitor, “Gotham Mutual. I’m tryin’ to do some research related to a policy.”

“Uh, alright. One moment.”

You waited. You listened impatiently to some generic piano music while on hold. You breathed a strain breath.

“Smith here,” an older voice spoke into the phone.

“Hello Mr. Smith. My name is Louise Stewart. I’m callin’ from an insurance company here in Gotham, ‘bout a life insurance policy we’re decidin’ whether to pay out? We suspect the beneficiary might not actually be related to the recently deceased. Doin’ some digging, it appears you wrote some articles about some unfortunate events in their past. I haven’t been able to find much else, so I was wonderin’ if you could help me?” You had to pat yourself on the back; you were thinking of a lot of this off the fly.

“Well, I can certainly try. Who are the people involved?”

“The deceased is Penny Fleck. Arthur Fleck is--was her son.”

“Oh?” Smith asked quietly. Didn’t say anything else.

“Uh…yes. You wrote about his being abuse at the hands of her boyfriend in the past. You described him as being adopted. What…source informed you he was adopted and not her natural child?”

“Adopted children can’t be beneficiaries of a life insurance policy?”

“No, of course they can,” you acknowledged, drawing out your o’s like you used to, but also trying not to sound like a caricature of yourself. “I’ve just seen some conflicting information about his relationship to her, and we just wanted to make sure we covered all the bases.” Your accent slipped a little at the end; you hoped he hadn’t noticed.

“Honestly it was so long ago I’m not sure I can remember. But I know for sure the boy was adopted.”

You did a double take. “But….”

“And Miss? If I were you, I wouldn’t dig too deep on this one.”

Smith hung up. You sat at your desk, listening to the blaring sound of the disconnected tone for several seconds, before replacing the handset to its cradle.

Well, that wasn’t at all unnerving or suspicious.

....

Tuesday was too hectic to tend to much of anything outside of work. Once home, you by-passed even trying to see if he was home. You were avoiding him, avoiding potential confrontation, avoiding.... You knew it, but you wanted desperately to have something in hand first before coming back to him.

You were given another Wednesday off.

You thought of one last thing. One big old shot in the dark. You had a friend at the city clerk’s office. Whenever you needed to get a marriage or death certificate in relation to a claim, Harold was your go-to man. Birth certificates were a much more rare occurrence. You wanted to not involve your job in any way this time. You had an idea.

“Jennifer! How’s my favorite insurance adjuster?”

“Uh, I’m still just a secretary, but thanks for thinking positively. How are you, Harold?”

The older, bigger man rubbed his hands up and down the front of his sweater. “The ol’ ticker isn’t what she used to be, but...that’s life, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Um....” You shifted on your feet. “I was wondering if I could get a favor?”

“Well, sure, of course. What do you need?”

You leaned forward on the counter, looked down, then up as you gave your best sweet-demure look to Harold. “Well, see, I’m actually...getting married. Eloping. With the sweetest guy I’ve ever met....” You paused; looked away for a moment.

“Well, congratulations!”

You laughed cheerily. “Yeah. But ya know, we need to get all our stuff in order--all the blood tests and paperwork and such. We wanted to be sure we entered his parents’ info correctly, but...he doesn’t have his birth certificate. He’s...working right now, but if I could get it for him--“ You pushed some mail forward. You’d earlier swiped a piece from his apartment that didn’t have his apartment number on it, but which had still managed to find its way to Arthur at some point. Together with one of your bills, you hoped that was enough “proof” that you lived together with this man and weren’t just asking for some random person’s birth certificate.

Harold didn’t even glance at the mail. “Of course Jennifer. Just tell me his name and date of birth and I’ll go back and see if I can find it.”

“Uhh.... I don’t actually know his date of birth.”

“Hmm.... Don’t know the year, at least?”

You did some mental math. “1949, I think.”

“Well, it might take a while,” Harold warned. “Is that okay?”

You shook your head. “Perfectly fine.”

Harold turned to go, but then turned back. “Oh, uh, what is your betrothed’s name?”

You smiled, maybe a bit sadly. “Arthur Fleck.”

....

Harold wasn’t kidding; it was going on two and a half hours and you still hadn’t seen him. You were starting to fear this was just another dead end--after all, if there was some covert, sinister element to all this as all signs pointed to at that moment, why on earth would anything significant just be left sitting in the city clerk’s office?--but your breath about stopped when you finally saw Harold, smiling, waving a piece of paper around in his hand.

You rushed up to the counter. “Did you find it?”

“Here you are, my dear....” He placed the faded document in front of you. “Certificate of Live Birth,” for one Arthur Fleck--no middle name--born November 21, 1949. You glanced at the bottom; it was certified, and it was dated shortly after his birth. It had to be the original one.

You looked for his parents. Mother: Penelope Fleck, age 22, of New Jersey. Father: Unknown.

Harold noticed your frown. “Don’t worry Jennifer, just enter ‘Unknown’ for his father when you put all that info down. It is technically correct.”

“Um, yeah, no....”

“Is something wrong?”

“No! No, not at all.” You hugged the document to your chest. “Can I have a copy of it?”

“That is your copy. Certified and all. Just in case he needs it.”

You nodded. “Thank you so much Harold.”

....

You rapped loudly on Arthur’s door. “Arthur! Open up!”

You were so excited. You felt you finally had something to disprove all the bullshit that had been thrown at him lately about who he was, or wasn’t. Something you hoped would work as an amulet that could transform him back into your Arthur.

You weren’t sure what reception you would get. You had your .22 tucked into the back pocket of your jeans, hidden beneath your leather moto jacket. You had on your sturdiest shoes in your army boots, if you needed to...kick anything.

You knocked again, but no response.

Your anxiety was starting to perk up. You hadn’t seen Arthur since Penny’s grave side on Sunday.

You tried the door handle, and, to your surprise, this time the door opened.

You stepped inside. It was quiet. Too quiet.

“Arthur?” you called out, but no answer.

The smell of cigarette smoke was so faint, compared to when you were last inside his apartment. You went over to the TV and placed a hand to it. It was cold. There were multiple VHS tapes lying around, all marked “Murray Franklin” and numbered.  

You rushed into Penny’s room, then the bathroom. Even looked in the closet again. Nothing.

Where the hell could he be?

Glancing over at their table, you noticed the gun was gone.

Your tired brain raced. You left the apartment behind as you rushed out, panic surging through you.

....

You just wanted to find him. You looked everywhere. All the restaurants you had been, including the donut shop, stepping inside of which made you a bit sad. Pogo’s, but no one had seen him since the open mic night. All the more mundane places--like the bodega down the street and the laundromat and the post office. You even went to the record store you took him to once, and the bowling alley at Amusement Mile where you went to twice. Nothing.

You exhaled audibly, as you stared at the door in front of you.

Ha Ha’s

Talent Booking

He had been fired weeks ago, but maybe one of his co-workers had seen him? As far as you knew, Arthur didn’t really have any friends. At least none you knew of really. But maybe one of his former co-workers had seen him?

A taped-up, handmade paper sign on the door told you to ring a bell, but you ignored it as you swung the door open.

You drudged up some stairs, then found yourself traveling down some colorful hallways. You followed some laughter into a break room with lockers lined up on one side.

It was a room full of men, most of them dressed as clowns or in some state of clowning or declowning. One man was dressed in a full tuxedo and top hat, while another looked like a Chip ‘n’ Dale dancer.

Gradually, they all stopped what they were doing and looked up at you.

“Who the hell are you?”

You looked around. “Anyone here seen Arthur Fleck?”

There was some grumbling, annoyed moans. A portly clown in suspenders stepped forward. “Who’s askin’?”

You stared this man in the eye. “Just a friend. I...haven’t seen him in several days and I’m worried.”

“If you haven’t seen Arthur in a while count your lucky stars. Weird freak,” another clown commented. A few of the others laughed.

Your eyebrows shot up briefly. “Boy I can see why he loved this place....” You looked away.

That earned some grunts, but the man in the tuxedo stepped forward. “Do you think something happened to Arthur?”

You shrugged, sighed. “I don’t know. His mom died several days ago and he hasn’t been in a good place.”

That gave most of the men pause. “Arthur’s momma died?”

“Yeah....”

That same clown in the suspenders stepped up closer to you. “Arthur hasn’t been here in weeks and we haven’t seen him in that long. So skedaddle...” he looked you up and down, “freak.”

You smirked, motioned to the man. “Sure you don’t have a hot dog eating contest down at the pier you have to be at or something?”

“You bitch—” Suspenders moved toward you, but stopped when a voice called out from behind you: “Randall, that’s enough.”

You turned and looked down to see a smaller man with a beard and receding hair line. “Never mind him, Ma’am. If you’re looking for Arthur, I’m afraid none of us have seen him since he took his things after he was fired.”

You regarded the man carefully. “Gary?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

You nodded. “He talked of you fondly.”

Gary just shrugged.

You sighed again. “Thanks Gary.”

“When you find him, let him know w—I’m thinking of him.”

“I will,” you nodded.

You turned to go, but one of the men had to throw out one last jab:

“Sure you’re just friends? With a figure like that, I woulda thought Arthur would have something like you locked up in some basement.”

You stopped, smiled, but didn’t turn around. Instead, you reached out and punched a bulky time clock hanging precariously on the end of a wall. It fell crashing to the floor, but you didn’t pay it any mind as you went on.

One man yelped. Most of them grumbled again.

“Freaks of a feather,” you could hear someone mutter.

You left Ha Ha’s behind, shoving your hands into your leather jacket to fend off the cold as you stepped outside. Apparently you weren’t watching where you were going, because you bumped right into someone who was headed inside.

“Hey, watch where you’re fucking going,” the man spat. He was wearing somewhat dated clothing—pointed collar, leisure suit. Gold chain over graying, exposed chest hair. Classy.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

“Hey, did you just come out of there?” He asked in a nasally, strained voice, motioning to the door. “Looking to hire some...talent?”

You studied the man for a moment. “Is your name Hoyt?” You smiled.

He stepped up to you, grinning. “At your service.”

You stepped up closer, still smiling yourself. As hard as possible, you kneed him in the groin.

Hoyt immediately doubled over and groaned in pain. “What the fuck!? You cunt! Get back here!”

But you were already halfway down the down street.

.....

Arthur came out for the fortieth time. Waving, smiling. Trying to appear natural, normal.

“Hmmm...needs a bit more spark. Energy. You look as stiff as a board,” “you” commented from where you sat in the corner. Took a drag from a cigarette that never burned down.

Arthur sighed. “I’m never gonna get this right.”

“You will.” Another drag. “Eventually.”

He had been practicing for days in front of “you.” He had come a long way, but didn’t totally feel ready for his Murray Franklin appearance. Like he wasn’t quite there yet.

“Don’t worry,” “you” soothed. “You’ll knock ‘em dead.”

..…

You returned home exhausted, defeated. Sort of fed up of the whole situation. But once you reached your floor, and looked down the hall, something nagged at you. You started in the opposite direction, toward your door, but you stopped. You closed your eyes.

You walked to his door. You didn’t even bother knocking this time. You tried the door handle; it was locked this time.

“Huh.”

Luckily you had a stray bobby pin stuck in the bottom of one of your jeans pockets. You fished it out and it applied it to the lock. With some manipulation, you got the thing to unlock.

You took a steadying breath before opening the door and stepping inside.

No signs of life. In fact, nothing really looked changed from earlier. You would have wondered if Arthur hadn’t left town, if it weren’t for the door being locked when it wasn’t before.

You looked around. Questioned whether it was possible that anyone else could have been in this apartment.

You wandered into Penny’s old room. Nothing had been changed in there, seemingly.

You stepped up his mother’s dresser. Opened the drawers to find her clothing still there, as well as Arthur’s.

You wandered back out into the living room. Your eyes fell on Arthur’s journal and few other belongings on the small table in the corner. Even the crumpled lunch bag and the .38 were there. Seemingly things he’d want to take with him if we just going to up and leave. Maybe. There were still so much you didn’t truly know about him, seemingly. So much that seemed like a question mark, hanging in the air, just out of your reach.

Your hand hovered over the worn journal with his name written on the front. You had promised each other to respect the other person’s boundaries, but it felt like the time for that had passed.

You flipped the journal open.

You flipped through multiple pages. You weren’t quite sure what to think of what you saw. A lot of it was the expected scribblings about his days, his thoughts, his plans, but they were interspersed with more disturbing passages and drawings and cut outs.

You quickly shut the journal. You looked up through the half-arch into his kitchen.

Walking around, you stepped up to the folding screen still in front of the archway entrance. You reached up and grabbed it, letting it fold on itself before you tossed it aside.

It looked like a tornado had struck, as rotten food and containers and shelving and broken dishes were lying scattered across the floor. You tread carefully, trying not to slip on or further break anything.

The papers from the funeral home that handled Penny’s arrangements were sitting on the counter.

You glanced up. The cupboards and walls were wallpapered with newspaper clippings. Faces of snarling clowns and words speaking of murder and uprising and the names of three dead men.

You stared at this horrific collage for some time.

Your mind went to that night, after Pogo’s when the two of you were walking home, and Arthur stopped at the newsstand. Smiled at many of these same headlines. To other moments that didn’t entirely make sense or seemed right at the time, but which were brushed off, quickly forgotten, for the sake of a false peace, for an unsteady happiness. To the timing of the Wall Street Three murders and what happened later that night.

“This was you, wasn’t it?” you whispered, as your body shook.

“This is you.”

#joker #joker 2019 #joker film #joker movie #joker fanfic #joker fanfiction #joker fan fic #joker fan fiction #arthur fleck #arthur fleck x you #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x oc #friends to lovers #slow burn too I guess #I couldn't let Jennifer not meet Gary and Randall #well #mostly Gary #also Hoyt getting what he deserved #I also wanted to fill the plot hole of how Gary and Randall knew Penny had died

[ajokeformur-ray]

GIRL I SCREAMED TODAY I was going through some books I've to study for an exam and the main author of one book goes "Fleck" as the last name 🥺🥺 who knows maybe you studied/will study him too! 🥺🫶🏻 Taking this as a sign of good luck, you've no idea for how long or the extent of how I've been struggling with uni and I could use some 🥹🤞🏻 btw I may be too busy to reply but I've been reading all of your updates with uni and your posts and I'm so proud of you! 😭 I've been rooting for you all along and sending you love and luck and wishes every time I thought of you or liked your posts. I couldn't be prouder than that 😭💙 You're one of those people I've been looking up to all this time and if I'll be even half strong as you are I know I'll get through this 🥹🥹🥹💙💙💙 and Arthur is v proud of you as well. We all are! 🥺💙 You deserve long months of rest, treating yourself and lots of fun & Arthur loving now. 💙🥺 And I hope your toe is better and will heal completely soon, if it didn't already which I hope 🥺💙

💙🐝☕🐝💖

OH MY GODDDD FLECK?????🥹🥹🥹🥹😍😍😍😍That's so cuuuuuuuuuute ~ omg please!!! I haven't come across anyone with the last name 'Fleck' yet; my university textbooks are written by my lecturers.🥹That is DEFINITELY a sign of good luck and I wish you all the best with your exams!!!!! You know more than you think you do and it's usually the case that we're doing better than we think, because we're our own worst critics.🫂💖I'm so sorry you've been struggling with uni, Fla, I DEFINITELY relate and I'm sending you lots of strength and Arthur cuddles to get through this!!🫂💖

You're proud of me???? FLA🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹I have struggled so badly with this year and I really need to figure out what exactly scares me so bad about the monthly assignments that I freeze up until the very last second; I'm now at the halfway mark of my degree but it's happened with every assignment ever since I started and I've never been able to figure out what scares me so badly😭💔Thank you thank you for rooting for me and sending me love and luck; it's gotten me through every moment I thought I couldn't do it and I appreciate you and your unending support so much. I'm rooting for YOU and I'm here if you ever wanna bounce ideas off of someone or discuss theories or anything at all; sometimes having a soundboard helps to dislodge a few things and make it easier to understand! I'm so so proud of you and thank you for being proud of me too😭😭😭😭

You're so much stronger than you think you are, Fla, and I admire YOU. Creatively, intellectually and academically, I really admire you.😭I wish you nothing but the best in all things.🫂💖🫂💖🫂💖Arthur's proud too?!!!! Oh my gooddddd🥺🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭that's it, you've killed me, put this on my tombstone😭😭😭😭I got up at noon and it's barely 4pm and I'm back in bed already😂💖Arthur loving!!! I definitely need a lot of that💖I hope you're able to get some time for you and Arthur as well, honey, he's so so proud of you and we're both rooting for you every step of the way!!!💖

My toe isn't better!!! I have a check-up at the doctors tomorrow; it hasn't healed at all since I went in last week so I don't know what's gonna happen but I'm meant to go back to work in 4 days; I've been off work for almost a MONTH because of my toe😭 I'm not sure what's happening with my toe but I'll find out tomorrow.💔

[disacurveball]

SPOILERS FOR THE BATMAN (2022)

….

….

I’ve seen a few people talk about how they thought the flood at the end felt misplaced and unexplained, but I honestly have to disagree. I think this is because they are coming from a place of believing The Riddler has some sort of leftist ideology when really, I don’t think this is the case. He certainly is radical, but it’s definitely a right-winged populist sort of radical. He is supposed to be a stand-in for disenfranchised white men who get radicalized by the alt-right on the internet (Although he is the one doing the radicalizing.)

There are many instances before that scene we see that his plan has no empathy for the common people, but centers around taking what he believe he deserves, his own vengeance. During the funeral scene, there were a LOT of ordinary people in that church that the car could have easily run over has well- his actions do not match his rhetoric in this regard. One of the biggest factors to this though is he gives no notion to what his end goal is after he kills the corrupt institutional figures. It is entirely because he personally feels wronged.

But, we do know one end goal of his, entirely fueled by his own selfishness and narcissism, which was meeting the Batman. We learn that the concept of the Batman inspired him, which he interpreted as taking vengeance on those who do wrong/those who’ve wronged him. We see at the end that this is really the heart of the movie— as the Riddler causes mass destruction just to take his vengeance, Bruce realizes the Batman has to be a symbol of hope to Gotham. He must guide people through the water, he must carry them injured in his arms, he does not need to be the fear in the shadows.

Which I think the beauty of that is that the Riddler really is a critique of the men who uphold the Batman machismo fantasy. The guys who want to be just like Arthur Fleck from the Joker or think Batman’s heroism comes from beating up criminals and think the no-kill rule is optional. The Riddler believes the fear Batman inspires is what makes him powerful, and Batman completely rejects this, rejecting the machismo fantasy. And I think that’s beautiful

#the Batman spoilers #the Batman #Batman 2022 #Bruce Wayne #the riddler #Edward Nashton #Edward Nygma

[thepinkpanda01]

Golden globes baby!!

Just waiting for those Oscar noms now

#joker #arthur fleck #joaquin pheonix joker #joaquin phoenix #definitely getting what he fucking deserves