The Criminal, The Clownish, The Comedian
BATMAN: THREE JOKERS (2020)
hello vonnie
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almost home

Love Begins

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oozey mess

shark vs the universe
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will byers stan first human second

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#extradirty

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Xuebing Du
art blog(derogatory)
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Three Goblin Art
trying on a metaphor

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@moderndaypagliacci
The Criminal, The Clownish, The Comedian
BATMAN: THREE JOKERS (2020)
Batman: Three Jokers #1 (Jason Fabok & Brad Anderson)
@deamonassassinâ doesnât get the joke.
   âSo many--â heâs clutching his briefcase tightly, thumbs twiddling with one and the other nervously. He walks, sort of hunched over, head sunken into his collar like a turtle with itâs shell. Theyâre all so beautiful, the line up of girls.    â--choices.â Clearing his throat as he says this last bit aloud. âWhat would you--â he turned to the Madame, with what could be construed as a smile, â--recommend?â    The meek little man had the sides of his head shaven, with what-- at first-- was slick black hair but had been ruffled and disheveled looking. His eyes were this sort of pale green that seemed to be almost muted, like the rest of him. A white labcoat hung off his limbs like a child wearing a Ghost costume on Halloween. It was odd because it was usually this type of man you'd expect to see at a brothel but there was something... peculiar about him.
   âWhen youâre in my line of work, pumpkin, you make it your business to know your crowd. To know your audience.â Heâs smearing away the lipstick so that red        (seemingly bleeding)    ones could appear in a horrendous rictus.
   âYou think I would just merrily stroll into your fine establishment without knowing the security and safety protocols you have in place for that fine merchandise of yours? Well, heh, who am I kiddinâ? I mightâve. I suppose that day was just a unlucky one for you because I was feeling, particularly, paranoid that afternoon... and why wouldnât I be? I was testinâ out my latest number! Had to tune it just right and see if it could go along without a hitch! HahaHAHA!â The towel had been returned to the rack when he let out that wretched laughter from the pit of his stomach, cradling it in one of his hands while the other one pressed against the wall from the inside of the bathroomâs threshold where he stood.    âHeheh... Hahahaha... Heh... Phew!â Inhaling deep, he let it out just as quickly. Drumming the fingers attached to the hand positioned on the bathroom wall rhythmically as he kept his beady green eyes on her. Almost as if he were peering into her soul, attempting to gauge her intent. Her body language.    âYouâll have to forgive me, I crack myself up sometimes. But in all seriousness, if itâs of any consolation...â His voice drops down an octave so he can deliver this seemingly solemn promise. âSHE WAS ONE HELLUVA INSTRUMENT!âÂ
   Like something out of Taxi Driver, there was a wrist-bound mechanical holster in the sleeve of the hand that wasnât hidden behind the wall. It sprung to life and immediately filled his right hand with itâs weight, index finger instinctively wrapping around the trigger. That shrieking laughter left his lips again as he fired off a total of 4 shots from what seemed to be a snub nose revolver, making a sideways sprint to the open balcony as he did so he could jump off itâs railing. He had a suspicion that she didnât come alone, although she was the only person in that room with him, he imagined she must have had some sort of insurance up her sleeve. That was when-- while he was wiping his face-- he noticed a glimmer reflect off against the chrome towel rack that wasnât the bathroom fluorescent. Couldâve been nothing or couldâve been a sniper from the parallel building.        (Only one way to find out)    They werenât that high up and so when he jumped, he remembered that the awning from the front entrance of the hotel would break his fall. His body tore through the fabric and he landed on the sidewalk with a dull thud.    âCâmon, Jokesy, getupgetupgetupGETUP--â Chanting to himself almost like a temporary mantra, giggling the entire time he did as he stumbled to his feet and started to run down the block. Firing off a round or two to part the crowd of people gathering in his way like Moses parting the Red Sea.    âOUTTA MY WAY, FOLKS! OFFICIAL CLOWN BUSINESS!â
@deamonassassinâ doesnât get the joke.
   âSo many--â heâs clutching his briefcase tightly, thumbs twiddling with one and the other nervously. He walks, sort of hunched over, head sunken into his collar like a turtle with itâs shell. Theyâre all so beautiful, the line up of girls.    â--choices.â Clearing his throat as he says this last bit aloud. âWhat would you--â he turned to the Madame, with what could be construed as a smile, â--recommend?â    The meek little man had the sides of his head shaven, with what-- at first-- was slick black hair but had been ruffled and disheveled looking. His eyes were this sort of pale green that seemed to be almost muted, like the rest of him. A white labcoat hung off his limbs like a child wearing a Ghost costume on Halloween. It was odd because it was usually this type of man you'd expect to see at a brothel but there was something... peculiar about him.
   The front door swung open and his lanky silhouette stretched into the apartment thanks to the spilling light from the hallway behind him. He shuts the door behind himself and starts to shrug off his labcoat, feeling the weight of it alleviate itself from his person. The briefcase in his hand gets shifted in possession to the other one so he could then switch his focus to the other sleeve of his coat. Once completely off, he hung it up on the rack mounted in his doorway. His balcony doors were wide open, the night air caressing the hairs on the back of his neck. He walks past it to make his way towards the bathroom, dropping the briefcase just before stepping through the threshold. He reaches down to grab both knobs of the bathroom sink and twist them on, filling up the porcelain bowl with lukewarm water as it soon filled his cupped palms. Splashing the water on his face and hair, he ruffles it a bit before dipping his head low and letting out a sigh.    âYou can come out now.â He announces without lifting his head, both of his hands grabbing at each end of the sink. What seems to be almost a paint-like brown and beige color is seen dripping off white fingers.    âI know youâre there--â turning to stand in the bathroom doorway, he reaches up to his own head and ruffles his       (now green)    hair. â--Madame.â Reaching with his left hand towards the towel rack to grab one, drying his head and face to get rid of any remaining cosmetics.
@deamonassassinâ doesnât get the joke.
   âSo many--â heâs clutching his briefcase tightly, thumbs twiddling with one and the other nervously. He walks, sort of hunched over, head sunken into his collar like a turtle with itâs shell. Theyâre all so beautiful, the line up of girls.    â--choices.â Clearing his throat as he says this last bit aloud. âWhat would you--â he turned to the Madame, with what could be construed as a smile, â--recommend?â    The meek little man had the sides of his head shaven, with what-- at first-- was slick black hair but had been ruffled and disheveled looking. His eyes were this sort of pale green that seemed to be almost muted, like the rest of him. A white labcoat hung off his limbs like a child wearing a Ghost costume on Halloween. It was odd because it was usually this type of man you'd expect to see at a brothel but there was something... peculiar about him.
   âEric.â A bit taken back by the woman who stepped forward, but not unpleasantly. He offers her a small smile for her volunteering, in return. Turning his pale greens to the Madame with a bit more confidence in his voice.    âEric Border.â Straightening his tie, he lets the redheaded beauty take the lead. The two of them disappear into one of the bedroom suites upstairs for several hours. When he leaves sheâll gossip with her coworkers about how gentle of a lover he was, how different he was in bed than he was in person and how funny he was. Then sheâll laugh about it with them and go about the rest of her night laughing at the thought of it and him to herself, inexplicably. The laughing will become more and more frequent when she gets home, preparing a bath, and soon enough the laughter will seem like shrieks with how hard sheâs doing it and how contorted her body is becoming from the force of it continuing. Some neighbors will say they thought she was watching a horror movie, some will say she was watching a comedy, some will say both... but theyâll all agree that the laughter stopped at about midnight.    Stopped like God pressed âmuteâ on the worldwide television remote.
   Itâd be hours before they found the body. Naked, sprawled out on the bathroom floor with an assortment of bath products and toiletries littering the porcelain white tiles that fitted said bathroom floor. Under the mess of red hair sprouting from her head had been this sort of wide and horrendous grin. Sinews bleeding from how hard she was smiling from ear to proverbial ear. Her eyes strained with red veins that strangled the white of her eyes to something that resembled piss. Rigor mortis immortalizing that inhumane position her cadaver was left in. The coroner whoâs going to perform her autopsy tonight will be able to hug his daughter tonight because he was persuaded to look the other way when one of his new arrivals has a visitor that same night.
   A visitor who stool tall and lanky, wearing a slim fitting black suit and who had slicked black hair with the sides of his head, shaven. Pale greens look upon the blanket covered carcass as bony white extremities reach out to peel away the cover so he can gaze at his own dastardly handiwork.    âHello, Mary.â That timid and meek voice slowly losing those said characteristics and replacing them with something that was a bit more... sinister.
@deamonassassinâ doesnât get the joke.
   âSo many--â heâs clutching his briefcase tightly, thumbs twiddling with one and the other nervously. He walks, sort of hunched over, head sunken into his collar like a turtle with itâs shell. Theyâre all so beautiful, the line up of girls.    â--choices.â Clearing his throat as he says this last bit aloud. âWhat would you--â he turned to the Madame, with what could be construed as a smile, â--recommend?â    The meek little man had the sides of his head shaven, with what-- at first-- was slick black hair but had been ruffled and disheveled looking. His eyes were this sort of pale green that seemed to be almost muted, like the rest of him. A white labcoat hung off his limbs like a child wearing a Ghost costume on Halloween. It was odd because it was usually this type of man you'd expect to see at a brothel but there was something... peculiar about him.
đ
- Batman: Three Jokers Variant Covers
@thcmidnightcrâ doesnât get the joke.
   Cough. Spit. Stumble. Blurred vision. Clearing.
   âPhew... di-did somebody get the um--â he looked over at the totalled cab half sunken in the public fountain by Cathedral Square.    â--License plate number on that--?â He could taste copper on his now glistening red lips, feeling the moist grease of his own blood as he slicked his green hair back. Chancing a step forward, he nails the landing.    So he chances another.
      And another.
   âAw, forget it... Heheh...â Itâs at this point heâs noticed heâs amassed a crowd, theyâre all staring like a bunch of deers in head--âLights.â He finishes his thought aloud, looking back at the half sunken car and defenseless against the laugh that burst out of him, then. Heâs looking around himself at the spectators at his show to see if anyoneâs got the joke but all heâs seeing are those blank stares.    âDo ya get it, folks? Head,â he points at his bloodied cranium, âlights?â He points at the car. Nothing. A few confused murmurs here and there.    âWhat do you know?â Orangey red smudges his once white gloves as one of which reach into the inner lining of his coatâs lapel. Itâs at about this time the seemingly disoriented gentleman pulls out a silver Colt Buntline Special and aims it up in the air, index finger coiled around the trigger as he gave it a light squeeze. Folded arm jerking down from the power of it as a shot was fired off into the air, immediately snapping everyone out from their voyeuristic trance.    âOh, you get that huh? Rodney had it right all along. No respect.â
@thenightsplutoniumshoreâ doesnât get the joke.
   âBeautiful, isnât it?â His voice had a sort of smoothness to it, like velvet, when it rung out to her. Though he was talking to her, it didnât seem like he wanted to get her attention. He was just talking and he knew sheâd probably be the only one in earshot to listen to him.    During it all. During the swirl of reds and blue. The siren calls beckoning from on top of squad cars parked around the perimeter of the crime scene. They were in a crowd and despite the indiscernible collective murmur of commonfolk gossiping, she struck him as someone who would hear a strangerâs offhand remark. Especially when the stranger had green hair, paper white skin and ruby red lips that-- technically-- were smiling but it didnât seem to be a mirthful smile.    It almost seemed forced.
   âWonder whatâs on the menu tonight.â Saying this more so to himself than to her, who he had accounted in the scope of his periphery. Brunette. Rough looking. Local? He wasnât sure yet. Sheâs seen enough not to look too disturbed at the sight of the carcass being carried into the back of an ambulance in a body bag. The movers didnât even have the courtesy to tuck in the dangling, blood stained hand back into the slightly unzipped bag. They simply flung it into the back of the truck as if they were U-Haul or something.    He snickered at that.    âModus operandi.â Pronouncing the phrasing as if he were seeing how it tasted on his tongue, a white gloved right hand finally raised up to slick his hair back. If she were to turn to look at him sheâd see he was wearing a purple pinstriped suit with a green bowtie choking the folded collar of his tucked-in button down shirt. Polished black and white Spats hugged his feet, as if he were ready at any moment now to rehearse a performance with Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly or something. Shaking his head-- not necessarily disapproving but disinterestedly--at the every day circus in front of them, he turned away from the slowly dissipating crowd and slowly started to make his way down a nearby alleyway.    âWonder whatâs on--â he stops to look up at the moon, â--the menu.â
Joaquin Phoenix as JOKER
- Batman: The Black Mirror (2011)
You had to spoil everything, didnât you? Beating up Bane, feeding Scarecrow to Croc, slapping around my Harley, my hobby by the way, and ruining all my lovely Venom plants!
@circusmadeâ doesnât get the joke.
   âWell look whoâs flapped the guano off their wings and made a name for themselves in good olâ BlĂŒdhaven.    âI like what youâve done with the place, Robby Poo, though if Iâm competely honest itâs always going to be a second rate Gotham, wouldnât you agree?â
@youmaythinkyouknowmeâ doesnât does get the joke.
   âDo my eyes deceive me or did this admittedly handsome-- but lonesome-- clown fly outta one too many cuckooâs nests?    âAh, who am I kiddinâ? Itâs probably both! HaHA!â
by Brian Bolland