[jokerfleckk]

Back from the grave for a moment to say fuck the police. Black lives matter And fuck trump

[murrayfranklin]

i think this is that scene that joaquin and todd said was a favourite that they had to cut???

[life-or-something-like-lt]

[invertedcaptain]

JOKER (2019) dir. Todd Phillips

[jaylovesbats]

So gorgeous!🥺❤️❤️❤️

[drippingpaint]

I thought this was some sci-fi movie for a second bsjsjssj

[murrayfranklin]

TODD

[neon-umbrella-for-stella]

OMG

[travistytravesty]

AHEM

[memory-mortis]

I’M SHAKING AND CRYINF EN

[elusive---ivory]

B ruh

[eknnke]

I laughed at this more than I should have lmao

(video not mine)

[jyndawn]

» DESPERATE

Hoppo and a bunch of us on Discord were talking about Alpha!Ben and kissing that thicc knot…so have this. Go thank @callmehopeless for enabling me.

* * *

Keep reading

[mastrb8inacoffn]

Joker special features (6 / ???)

[mastrb8inacoffn]

Joaquin Phoenix and choreographer Michael Arnold ― Joker special features (8 / ???)

[rexsjaigeyes-deactivated2026070]

UM that last move…. I NEED TO SEE IT FROM THE FRONT PLEASE

[drippingpaint]

this looks fun

[jokerfleckk]

Arthur heavily breathing in slow motion, enjoy

[batmanseyeshadow]

Which Joaquin Phoenix character do you want as your boyfriend? Reblog this with your answer pls.

[jokerfleckk]

joker lol

[selena-soto]

it’s been 24 hours since i saw knives out and this is still the only mood

[jokerfleckk]

ur wish is my command

[arthurrfleckq]

we really won huh

[sirianisrock]

Same girl,same

[yeahhletsfuck]

Throwback Thursday to when I posted this GIF all the way back in 2013. Everyone on this site thought that this had to do with Fifty Shades of Gray and the daddy dom lifestyle, and acted like a bunch of horny fools in the replies. But it wasn’t. It really wasn’t!

I was just trying to get my work friend to come over to my house to see the funny images that I had up on my cork board. His phone service had recently expired, and the only way I could get him to see it was through Tumblr. I had done this a few times with him prior to this GIF blowing up, which soured our friendship.

I was wearing the suit because I had a formal business meeting in a couple of hours. I actually hate the daddy dom lifestyle. Please stop thinking that I’m a part of that community!!

[bayverse]

Y’all are fucking horrible

[butchfairy]

no offense but i dont think we should sexualize a random dude without consent regardless?? stop being a bunch of skeptics so you can keep making daddy jokes about a guy you dont even know he literally said he doesnt want to be thought as a part of the daddy dom community

[butchfairy]

maybe im reaching but i think id be uncomfortable if people made daddy jokes about me from a funny gif i made years ago…

[jokerfleckk]

his username literally used to be “yeahletsfuck” but go off I guess

[hysteriium]

{ 𝑩𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝑭𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒉 }

(A/N): Thank you to the beautiful @jokerfleckk who edited the picture above! Check her out she’s amazing! Also, this was a co-written fic by @pennyship and I, she also writes so be sure to check her out! This has honestly been the longest one-shot I’ve written, it’s insane how long it’s taken us and I can’t believe it’s finally done??? It’s just really surreal! Anyway, @pennyship and I were thinking about making this into a full-fledged series so if y’all are into that, let us know! :) ENJOY! 

Summary: A hit doesn’t go as expected.

Pairing: H! Joker x Reader x J! Joker

Word Count: 15k (lol) 

Warnings: Dubcon, smut, swearing, violence, blood, guns and knives – y’all know the drill it’s the Joker(s). 

////

Pain. 

It was the only thing that overwhelmed your perception, the only thing that made sense. Immediately, you identified the distinctive feeling of a meshed material brushing up against your face. It was a strange, straw-like fabric – one that made it difficult to breathe as it encapsulated your head. It was equally as challenging to see and even when your eyes began to settle, it scarcely made a difference. Anxiety flooded, clawing at you like a dog plagued by fleas, itching wildly in an attempt to hit that one spot – to break you. 

You couldn’t even remember how you got here. 

With a dry swallow, the heavy fog of grogginess began to lift – departing – while the reality of your dire situation laggardly sunk in. Your icy, rigid fingers prompted jolting movements, a helpless endeavour to loosen up the numb appendages. And, in a similar manner, it was speedily proven your arms were just as weak, the action manifesting itself in a pathetic number of wriggles and, ultimately, more anguish. With these failed attempts, you realised something horrific; a truth so gut-wrenching, your heart jumped with dread and lodged itself in your throat. 

You were tied up.  

You had been in this situation before – many a time as to be expected from your line of work – and you had always managed to, more or less, come out alive. Notoriety made this so. 

Trying to speak, to call out for help, was fruitless; a single reckless, tentative scream could be the difference between life or death. Combining the growing pit in your stomach and your apparent amnesia, you knew you had to cling onto whatever shred of clarity you could. Though, said indicators weren’t particularly pointing to favourable outcomes. 

You weren’t entirely sure how long you’d been unconscious. However, judging from the tiresome ache in your jaw, you presumed you’d been there for quite a while. No matter how much you struggled to stretch out the cramping joint, to exercise it, the hinge was imperviously fixed. Using your tongue to prod at the cloth wrapped crudely around your mouth, supposedly tied at the back, the all-too-familiar metallic tang of blood infiltrated your tastebuds. Somehow, an injury had occurred; perhaps during a scuffle you had yet to recall. 

You needed a game plan. 

The ropes rubbed and scratched at your raw skin, the material similar to the bag over your head. Your pulsing wrists let you know that deep bruises had already started to set, thanks to the ever-so-accommodating constraints. 

The longer you were aware, the more conscious you became of your surroundings; the damp, earthy smell which enveloped the room was reminiscent of a dingy basement and the rope tied around your screaming legs was utilised in the same manner as your arms. You tried your best to call forward any form of memory, even scraps, but with practically no recollection, the sudden flurry of questions that infiltrated your mind only rendered you more frustrated and begrudgingly unsettled. While it had only taken seconds to check over your body and gain some sense of understanding, you had successfully identified the weak points of your restraints. Whoever had tied you up had done a decent job, though judging from the disproportionate knots – clunky in some areas, loose in others – there had been a mad scramble to tie you up.  

Before you could focus and develop a quick survival plan, the conspiring was quickly put to a stop. 

You heard footsteps. 

Two pairs. 

With your instincts peaking, you honed in on their noises, the echo bouncing off what you believed was a hallway. A distinctive essence seemed to radiate off the way they walked: purposeful. Though faint and distant when you first heard them, the closer they became the easier it was for you to determine that your suspicion was correct – that there were two people approaching. Their hushed voices led you to the straining conclusion they were both males. 

Within minutes, all had stopped. 

Silence.

Then, a metallic screech. 

You held your breath, hoping that your stillness would fool your abductors. 

“Well, well, our – uh, little bunny’s awake.” 

Fuck. 

Lacking any reason to keep up the limp facade, you lifted your gaze towards their direction in hopes of catching a glimpse of your masked captors through the porous material. Distorted blobs of plum and ruby red surrounded your vision. When the tap of footsteps proceeded, your body instinctively twitched at his proximity, effectuating in raspy wheezing fits of laughter.

You knew that voice. Knew it all too well, unfortunately. Wild, unhinged, and mockingly musical. It had all suddenly come back to you: the memories prior to your capture. The memories of when you had first met the dynamic deathly duo. The memories of when they had intentionally and wholly fucked up your hit. 

In truth, your captors were the physical humanoid embodiments of cyclones, their primary objective – hell, life goal – to stir shit up whenever possible. Everyone involved in crime knew of their havoc and if that wasn’t enough to convince the ignorant, the news channels were just as reinforcing. Contractors were on high alert whenever they escaped Arkham and combined forces, planning for their inevitable intrusion, meaning that jobs were often scarce. 

Only twice had you been ‘blessed’ with their presence, and twice had been enough.

God help anyone who fell in their path. 

God help you.

////

Blends of neon shrouded your vision. Reds, blues and, very sparingly, pinks oozed a warm homey feeling: a welcoming glow. The condensation which dripped down onto your fingers, originating from the chilled glass in your hand, was oddly comforting. What wasn’t, though, was the potent stench of sweat, cigarettes, and beer; the yeasty scent being the most tolerable of the lot.  

Although the establishment you commonly found yourself in was rough, rustic and unconventional, you’d formed a deep attachment to it. Memories, both positive and negative, decorated every corner; out of all the years you had wasted here, not a single crevice was left without a story. Especially the spray of bullet holes printed into the wall.

In the business, you were given names – never personally chosen, and if you fucked up, you had to make sure you worked your ass off to change it. ‘Triggerfinger’ had been your first. It wasn’t a nice story, and it had imprinted after you unintentionally shot at one of your coworkers, mistaking them for one of your targets. The following wasn’t any better: ‘Spineless’ the next considering you had the ‘nerve’ to turn down jobs you didn’t agree with. But, as you ascended the brutal, unforgiving ladder of assassins, the one that was the most noteworthy, was ‘Judgement.’  

Just from a quick glance, any newcomer was able to deduce that the typical crowd was a rowdy, deadly bunch. Each visitor displayed their brutal scars with pride; some were horribly disfigured, and others, yet to be. Hilariously contrasted with this was the live entertainment, a mixture of jazz and soul. You guessed it was the owner’s attempt at masking the illegal activity – though, what could you truly hide with such a questionable crowd? 

As usual, you kept your distance, preferring the corners of the bar – voluntarily choosing to bask in the shadows and observe your surroundings rather than interact. Most were hunched over their tables, high from the night’s success as they sat with friends; each armed with drinks and eager to slip away from life’s harsh realities. It was certainly a dangerous decision to lower your guard in the establishment, yet thanks to the heavily enforced ‘no-kill’ rule, such activities were mostly prevented. 

Accidents did happen, however.

Regardless, the quaint bar that was the ‘Feisty Pig’ was home to many; hidden and safe. 

At least that was what you had thought.  

Despite your watchful gaze, you remained painfully unaware of the danger that walked in until it was too late. A hush creak emanated from the entrance of the bar and since the said door was hidden from your angle, you hadn’t bothered to check. A quick scan of the boisterous area had exhibited nothing out of the ordinary, inducing a false sense of security.

It had been your biggest mistake.

Bringing the cool glass up to your lips, tongue overwhelmed by the bitter drink, you lurked around the corner of the bar, nimble fingers trailing the cool, sticky wood of the countertop. The floor was in a similar state, a nasty collection of syrupy alcohol – evidence of countless spilt drinks from the careless drunkards. The muck stuck onto the bottom of your shoe emitted a grotesque crackling with each peeling step–

Shatter.

“What the fuck?” You exclaimed, bewildered as you blinked twice. Your gaze hit the stone ground and there, scattered into tiny pieces laid the cup that had once so securely rested in your grip. The rest of your drink was completely unsalvageable, spread out in one giant splatter, adding to the floor’s increasingly effective adhesive. 

A snarl contorted your features when you looked up, the expression stuttering slightly when you met with intense dark eyes and a painted face.

Gasps sounded, the live music halted.

All went silent.

Keep reading

[jokerfleckk]

This is so well written and so in character for both of them. I’m honored you used my edit ;-; love u both

[shazadlatifgf-deactivated202301]

“It was an hour into it and I said, ‘Hey I got this music from Hildur Guðnadóttir, our composer,’ and I wanted to play Joaquin this piece of music. He just started to dance to this music. It was just me and him alone in the bathroom. There was 250 people on the crew waiting outside. He just starts doing this dance and we looked at each other and knew it was the scene. It made sense to us. When I first met Joaquin I told him Arthur is one of those people who has music in him.”

‘Joker’: Here’s the Original Bathroom Scene Joaquin Phoenix Threw Out With His Improvisation