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i honestly just want to write so anyway i'm archiving 🤷♂️
this is a private, selective and mutuals only roleplay blog for ARTHUR FLECK from todd phillips’ masterpiece JOKER (2019). this portrayal will be heavily headcanon based while taking some influence from the film and original script. i’m not overly strict with the accuracy of my portrayal to the film to allow for flexibility in my writing.
THIS BLOG IS 18+ : my blog may feature some disturbing content at times given the nature of the source material. though i try my best to tag everything, i highly advise that you do not follow me if you are triggered by mentions of : child abuse, manipulation, self harm, murder, violence, self loathing, clowns, etc. the trigger tag i’ll be using will be as follows : trigger //
psd was made by creationcolors. icon border was made by malluck / bewrath. all other resources and graphics on my blog were made by me. please do not steal or copy them. it’s really discouraging when i see other blogs blatantly taking from me. i understand taking inspiration to a certain extent, and it is somewhat flattering. but i will block you if you just straight up take from me.
INTEREST TRACKER / DNI
𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒 out there doin’ their lil deeds ❛ 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚈 𝙳𝙾𝙽'𝚃 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝙽𝙰 𝙳𝙾 ❜ [ … ]
the sudden silence of the street was somewhat overwhelming. crushing brutally upon arthurs mind. his thoughts darting ruthlessly. his actions had bewildered him. what kinda guy, especially in his line of work, stopped to help a guy like him? it’s never happened before. people like him scared arthur. because he was different he was seen as a threat. a threat to the status quo. which is exactly why those guys had jumped him. they’d been enjoying their day until arthur came along, laughing like some kind of maniac. ( a pseudobulbar attack ) but this guy . . . he had just helped him. he didn’t need to. but he did anyway. he was like some kind of hero. which was probably why arthur was now following close behind him like a lost puppy. he didn’t mean to intrude on his day. but he couldn’t just let him leave. not without at least saying thank you. his fingers twist within each other, wringing his hands. pulling anxiously at skin. he was still scared. despite david showing he was no threat. his stomach still churned with disquiet. his brows furrowed with discomfort. this sort of thing wasn’t easy for him.
“ sorry i just –– i wanted to thank you “
WHAT BODY PART ARE YOU?
↪ HANDS.
Hands can do so much, they’re extremely versatile much like yourself. They can nourish, they can pray, they can comfort. But we both know that’s not what you use yours for is it? You know as well as I do how hands can maim, can strangle, can destroy. They are unthinking and unfeeling, and unlike the others they do not act off instinct but off of command. Every act you commit is purposeful, filled with an intent, sometimes to be cruel and sometimes to be kind. You know who is deserving of your hurt, who is deserving of your love. Always make sure you can tell them apart before you wrap those hands around them.
❤ tagged by : @bleikurefur ❤ tagging : @malluck / @bewrath , @kaspbraktm , @ughitsthem
turn that frown upside down!!
his head snaps to the side upon sensing her movements. fingers wrapping protectively around the edge of the notebook. brows furrowed in suspicion. wary that she may suddenly attempt to snatch the thing. he didn’t want her seeing what was inside. he didn’t want anyone to see. not yet anyway. it was as though he hid a dirty little secret. something heinous, not meant for eyes other than his own. he decides on telling her the truth. ( partially the truth ) perhaps she will lose interest.
“ jokes –– it’s for jokes “
he had already laid out his side of the deal. take the C-line. that was it, he wasn’t going to indulge him further. did joker want him to get killed or something? he gets beaten up enough as it is, what does he think’ll happen if he tries to fight back? maybe he did want him dead. it wouldn’t surprise him. sometimes arthur daydreamed about it. about death. what it would be like if he finally ended it. it was a morbid fascination, which had somewhat become a fixation at this point.
he wondered when joker would start talking again. as much as he pretended to hate it, he almost missed how his voice filled the torturous silence. he’d gone much longer than he’d anticipated. he offers jittery smile. being pulled from his dissociative state. his nose scrunched up in disgust.
“ smells like a lot more than just falafel “
that was his attempt at a joke. one that made himself laugh. he hunches forward in desperate attempt to stop himself. but he’d already begun to turn heads. his laugh stuck out like a sore thumb. especially when there was nothing to be laughing at.
confusion washes over him. her question had not only caught him off guard, but it had astonished him. why’d she care about his dreams? why would anyone care? it made him wonder if she had some other intention that may not have been as innocent as her question. tension takes over his muscles. unease squirms in his stomach. when was the last time he’d gotten a decent sleep? his nights were plagued by monsters. ghoulish creatures that haunted him throughout his rest.
“ my dreams [...] my dreams are nothing special “
cigarette hangs from nicotine stained lips. held delicately in place by fragile fingers. tips brush lightly at the coarse scars present at the corners of his mouth. he had noticed edward here a few times before, he often wondered if he’d noticed him too. or was he just invisible. nonexistent. a ghost. phantom that haunts the gloomy city streets.
there’s visible surprise when the other outwardly acknowledges him. green eyes, filled with lingering exasperation, widen ever so slightly. he hesitates over his words. circumspect.
“ oh s-sure –– i’m not that good at riddles “
he smiles, blowing smoke into the humid air of the waiting room. waiting in somewhat anticipation for what the other may say next. he seemed to allow himself to relax a little. perhaps today wouldn’t end up being so bad after all.
“ it’s [...] not meant for that kind of thing “
quivering hands trace tan cover of notebook, tremors of anxiety. gaze averted. focused upon his own name, scrawled messily. material indented from the pressure of the pen he used to write it. what he had said was partially a lie. arthur wrote whatever he wanted in his journal. poems, jokes, thoughts, experiences. anything. but he didn’t want to give her a reason to ask to look.
“ i’d rather keep you here with me instead “
gave a grin in turn, moving to wrap lanky arm around her shoulders. leading her into the disgusting alleyway, hiding in the safety of it’s towering garbage bags. shunned from prying eyes. he loved her. as much as he would never admit it, at this point, arthur had no idea what he would do if she wasn’t around. he was sick. independent in himself, and yet dependent on her.
tongue pressed to back of teeth. his tone soft, almost alarmingly calm. gratuitous tears forming at the edge of painted eyes.
“ oh harls —— i’m not mad, i just [ . . . ] don’t want you to get caught “