sheepfilms
tannertan36
Today's Document
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
taylor price
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
★
d e v o n
Show & Tell
noise dept.
The Bowery Presents
Product Placement
ojovivo
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
untitled
Claire Keane
🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
official daine visual archive
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Sade Olutola
seen from United States
seen from Sweden
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Chile
seen from Germany
seen from Italy
seen from Chile
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Uzbekistan
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
@rottedroleplays
Mod uses he/it/they
DC, Marvel, and other fandom roleplays
Usually roleplay through blogs or ask threads
Muses are based on my own interpretation of the media and alters in my (possible) system.
• Jack Oswald-White Napier/The Joker
• Damian Wayne-Al’Ghul
• Jason Wayne-Todd
• Bruce Wayne
• Anthony Stark/Tony Stark/Ironman
• self insert/original character Thorn
• Evan Buckley/Buck
• Remus Sanders
• Janus Sanders
• Virgil Sanders
• Harvey Dent/Two-Face
• Yelena Belova/White Widow
Muse information: Thorn Napier-Morte
Backstory contains mentions of abuse, parentification, abandonment, alcoholism, and near death experience.
This has been updated. Please read.
( @rottedroleplays Thorn muse)
There is a new vigilante...well more like Anti-Hero, actually. Causing chaos in Gotham. Not Joker brand chaos or Hood brand chaos. Just...general chaos. Dead bodies with either their heads or both of their arms missing have been showing up. The vigilante has been spotted through cctv, but has not been identified.
They are calling him 'Shadow'. He wears mostly grey and black with the occasional pop of white. His main weapon is a massive scythe.
It's your usual gotham night tonight. There's not much happening, other than the usual crimes of course. Tim was sitting on a rooftop when he heard it- the sounds of a scuffle.
By the time Red Robin reached the scene, he was treated to the sight of a bloodied criminal with none other than Shadow himself standing above them, the blade of the scythe under the criminals chin.
Shadow prepared to behead the criminal, not yet noticing Red Robin.
[* RR leaps down, aiming a kick to the head of the person with the scythe, bō staff raised. He wasn't too aware of what was going on, but it was Gotham and he would be an idiot to not take down a person about to kill someone, even though it was obvious they were a criminal themself. He'd take stock of the full situation after it wasn't so dire, no one was dying on his watch tonight if he had anything to say about it. *]
Shadow cursed as he caught the sound of Red Robin dropping down, and quickly tucked his scythe into his toolbelt as he stepped out of the way of the criminal, cursing under his breath with a sharp "Fuck-!" As he tried to dodge the kick- but Red Robin's foot grazed the side of his face temple. The kick was *sharp* and he grunted slightly as he staggered, scythe clattering to the ground.
[* Red kicks off the wall to land by the criminal and the mysterious killer, righting himself with his staff to be able to attack and defend. *]
What do you think you're doing?
[* It takes him a second to recognize the signs, gritting his teeth. He'd looked over the Shadow case files a number of times, this must be him. *]
Shadow...was it? I've heard of you.
Shadow growls under his breath, flipping Red Robin the middle finger as he picks up his scythe. Damn it. Damn it. He should've eaten something before this- the kick to the temple has his vision going spotty, and he knows what will happen if he passes out. He'll likely end up in Arkham...or worse. "Shadow, huh?" He grit his teeth as he tried to ignore the headache growing. "Thats what they're calling me?"
[* Tim has to stop himself from snorting at the rude gesture. *]
I suppose so. Killing criminals, beheadings and body mutilation. You certainly have yourself a reputation I must say, it's a pity to end your reign so suddenly, but I'm afraid you're coming with me.
[* RR raises a brow, though barely visible through his domino mask. He spins the staff a little, waiting for an attack. *]
Shadow rolls his eyes from under his goggles, chuckling a little, though the dizziness is clear in his tone. His cape sweeps against the ground as he takes a step back, watching the criminal he had been about to kill flee. He sighed. "As much as I'd love to go with you, Red Robin- I'm afraid I can't let you take me to that place." Shadow pulled his scythe out again, the blade and handle unfolding. The metal gleamed in the moonlight. "So how about you just let me go, huh?"
( @rottedroleplays Thorn muse)
There is a new vigilante...well more like Anti-Hero, actually. Causing chaos in Gotham. Not Joker brand chaos or Hood brand chaos. Just...general chaos. Dead bodies with either their heads or both of their arms missing have been showing up. The vigilante has been spotted through cctv, but has not been identified.
They are calling him 'Shadow'. He wears mostly grey and black with the occasional pop of white. His main weapon is a massive scythe.
It's your usual gotham night tonight. There's not much happening, other than the usual crimes of course. Tim was sitting on a rooftop when he heard it- the sounds of a scuffle.
By the time Red Robin reached the scene, he was treated to the sight of a bloodied criminal with none other than Shadow himself standing above them, the blade of the scythe under the criminals chin.
Shadow prepared to behead the criminal, not yet noticing Red Robin.
[* RR leaps down, aiming a kick to the head of the person with the scythe, bō staff raised. He wasn't too aware of what was going on, but it was Gotham and he would be an idiot to not take down a person about to kill someone, even though it was obvious they were a criminal themself. He'd take stock of the full situation after it wasn't so dire, no one was dying on his watch tonight if he had anything to say about it. *]
Shadow cursed as he caught the sound of Red Robin dropping down, and quickly tucked his scythe into his toolbelt as he stepped out of the way of the criminal, cursing under his breath with a sharp "Fuck-!" As he tried to dodge the kick- but Red Robin's foot grazed the side of his face temple. The kick was *sharp* and he grunted slightly as he staggered, scythe clattering to the ground.
[* Red kicks off the wall to land by the criminal and the mysterious killer, righting himself with his staff to be able to attack and defend. *]
What do you think you're doing?
[* It takes him a second to recognize the signs, gritting his teeth. He'd looked over the Shadow case files a number of times, this must be him. *]
Shadow...was it? I've heard of you.
Shadow growls under his breath, flipping Red Robin the middle finger as he picks up his scythe. Damn it. Damn it. He should've eaten something before this- the kick to the temple has his vision going spotty, and he knows what will happen if he passes out. He'll likely end up in Arkham...or worse. "Shadow, huh?" He grit his teeth as he tried to ignore the headache growing. "Thats what they're calling me?"
( @rottedroleplays Thorn muse)
There is a new vigilante...well more like Anti-Hero, actually. Causing chaos in Gotham. Not Joker brand chaos or Hood brand chaos. Just...general chaos. Dead bodies with either their heads or both of their arms missing have been showing up. The vigilante has been spotted through cctv, but has not been identified.
They are calling him 'Shadow'. He wears mostly grey and black with the occasional pop of white. His main weapon is a massive scythe.
It's your usual gotham night tonight. There's not much happening, other than the usual crimes of course. Tim was sitting on a rooftop when he heard it- the sounds of a scuffle.
By the time Red Robin reached the scene, he was treated to the sight of a bloodied criminal with none other than Shadow himself standing above them, the blade of the scythe under the criminals chin.
Shadow prepared to behead the criminal, not yet noticing Red Robin.
[* RR leaps down, aiming a kick to the head of the person with the scythe, bō staff raised. He wasn't too aware of what was going on, but it was Gotham and he would be an idiot to not take down a person about to kill someone, even though it was obvious they were a criminal themself. He'd take stock of the full situation after it wasn't so dire, no one was dying on his watch tonight if he had anything to say about it. *]
Shadow cursed as he caught the sound of Red Robin dropping down, and quickly tucked his scythe into his toolbelt as he stepped out of the way of the criminal, cursing under his breath with a sharp "Fuck-!" As he tried to dodge the kick- but Red Robin's foot grazed the side of his face temple. The kick was *sharp* and he grunted slightly as he staggered, scythe clattering to the ground.
( @rottedroleplays Thorn muse)
Thorn had been doing so good. He had been doing *good*. Then something happened, and he suddenly felt like he was spiraling. Then he dissociated. Then- he doesn't remember what happened after that.
All he knows is that now, he's being practically dragged into Arkham. His storm grey streak in his hair is visible as the guards guide him forward. They hadn't taken his mp3 player or earbuds, which he was thankful for...but...
As the guards walked him past the activity room, Thorn caught a glimpse of the Joker. His father, he had found out through his adoptive family after they had refused to take him back into their case when he was honorably discharged... thats a long story.
Thorn stops walking for a moment. The guards, having had enough of him already, shove him forward- causing him to stumble and fall face first onto the floor of the activity room. Thorn hit the floor with a harsh thud, and he growled, getting to his feet rather quickly. "Oh go fuck yourselves." He called after the guards, who simply walked away. Thorn sighed, running a hand through his curly bangs while shaking his head.
The clown was in a full face of makeup, smiling to himself as he hummed a song he did not know nor care to truly understand, he had a Batman plushie in his hands, steadily unstitching the thread on its small chest. Then its arms.
Hearing all the commotion, the clown looked up to the entrance of the rec room. Ohhh somebody new!
Getting up and out of his seat, the Joker kept humming as he made his way over to Thorn.
Scarred, abandoned by guards, wow not even put into the uniform. He couldn’t help his chuckles.
“Well, what an entrance ya had there kiddo! Bravo, bravo!”
Thorn glances up at the clown with a raised eyebrow, then rolls his eyes and stands up, huffing slightly as he pushes himself up from the ground, the prosthetic arm and hand on his left side slightly whirring. He brushed down his hoodie- plain black with some lighter grey stripes on the sleeves. His right eye was completely white with a scar through it, and his left eye was a very dark brown- a trait Thorn got from his mother.
"I know, right? Fucking graceful." He snorts at his own joke as he walks to the corner to sit down. The corner he chose made it so he could see the entire room- and everyone in it. A strategic choice that spoke of a background with some flavor of training. Then he looked at the clown again and tilts his head. "You're wearing a lot of purple and green." He says bluntly, his autism shining through. "Do you have a fetish for those colors or something?"
The clown followed. Intrigued. His expression stayed fixed in his usual grin, even as the younger man cornered himself. Yes he could see everything, but running would be impossible. Heh.
He did wonder what caused those nasty little scars. Oh well, he’d find out soon enough.
By the corner, Joker leaned against the wall, picking idly as his dark gloves.
At the blunt comment, he can’t help but laugh.
“Y’know it’s rude to ask such personal things when ya don’t even ask for a name, kiddo. For your information, nah. They’re just my favorite.” He answered, flipping his hair with a snicker.
He did miss his purple suit unfortunately, Arkham uniforms were so… drab. Blues and greys. At least he still had his makeup. Even if apparently that made him a fetishist. Did that even apply to colors?
He didn’t want to know.
“What about ya? Do ya got a name or are ya just the kinda guy who decides to hide in corners like a rat?”
"Thorn." He answered the last question, that being the only one he really processed. Damn, this clown guy talks fast. Thorn shifted slightly in the corner, crossing his legs. He was used to sitting on floors and in general, to be honest. It helped him feel grounded. He leaned his back against the wall for a moment, then began slightly rocking back and forth. "I didn't ask your name because I know you wouldn't tell me. Everyone just calls you the Joker. So I figured you preferred that over whatever your name actually is." He said bluntly. No brain to mouth filter, it seemed. He had dark circles under his eyes, too- along with the medium grey streak on the same side as the scarred eye.
Joker tilted his head. Smart kid. Thorn was an odd name but hey, so was Joker.
The clown himself continued to pick at his gloves, watching Thorn with those acid green eyes. Smart, no filter. Not the best trait to have, but not a terrible one either.
“Thorn, how’d ya end up here? Clearly they didn’t take ya through the normal intake. Lucky you!” Joker said, using a hand to motion to Thorn up and down.
“Ya clearly don’t sleep well.”
Thorn shrugged. "I don't remember." He admitted quietly, scratching at his head for a moment, then putting his hands back into his pockets and rocking himself slightly again. "But I'm sure something bad had to have happened." He rubbed his face with his non-prosthetic hand, and nodded slightly. "I don't. I wake up a lot at night. Nightmares, and a broken internal clock aren't exactly a great combo. Throw in autism and vivid dreams and you've got a mental breakdown waiting to happen." He chuckled slightly.
Joker chuckled with him, slowly slightly down the wall to crouch. Not yet sitting. Still wary. But his smile never changed.
“Ohhh yeah that’ll do it! Haha! Lucky you then kiddo. Ya can’t have a breakdown if you’re asleep, or at least that’s what they try here. But well, sedation only does so much.” Another chuckle, his shoulders shaking as he tried to keep somewhat quiet.
“Maybe ya robbed someone, dressed up an inflatable dinosaur. Abandoned the costume, and then bought ten thousand lottery tickets!”
Thorn snorts. "That would be some pretty odd looking security footage, eh?" He raised an eyebrow and huffed as he rocked back and forth again, clearly struggling to remain still. He very much hated sitting still, or not having things to do. "But the problem with that is I can barely afford to get milk most of the time, and I dont think you can buy a dinosaur inflatable thing with foodstamps." He hummed. "And knowing how I get when I'm angry? I probably hurt someone again. It would be nice if I could actually remember, but you know. The voices say no memories for me." He hummed.
“Ah yes, the voices.” Joker replied, nodding very seriously.
“Maybe ya stole that suit too? Ah ha! That’s it! Ya stole the suit, right? Ya stole, and a baseball bat. And ya beat up the mayor because Gotham food stamps don’t do their job!” He theorized, like an excited child.
“Actually I should get someone to do that… remember this idea, kiddo. I gotta hire somebody to do that.”
"No, I didn't steal these." He lightly pulls at his black and grey hoodie. "Ive got a ton of these fuckin hoodies. They're like- the only clothing style I enjoy. Oversized hoodies, sweatpants, or leggings. Form fitting clothing is evil." Evil was probably an exaggeration, but either way. "And you should. Get someone assassinate the cunt already. He keeps cutting the foodstamps down."
( @rottedroleplays Thorn muse)
Thorn had been doing so good. He had been doing *good*. Then something happened, and he suddenly felt like he was spiraling. Then he dissociated. Then- he doesn't remember what happened after that.
All he knows is that now, he's being practically dragged into Arkham. His storm grey streak in his hair is visible as the guards guide him forward. They hadn't taken his mp3 player or earbuds, which he was thankful for...but...
As the guards walked him past the activity room, Thorn caught a glimpse of the Joker. His father, he had found out through his adoptive family after they had refused to take him back into their case when he was honorably discharged... thats a long story.
Thorn stops walking for a moment. The guards, having had enough of him already, shove him forward- causing him to stumble and fall face first onto the floor of the activity room. Thorn hit the floor with a harsh thud, and he growled, getting to his feet rather quickly. "Oh go fuck yourselves." He called after the guards, who simply walked away. Thorn sighed, running a hand through his curly bangs while shaking his head.
The clown was in a full face of makeup, smiling to himself as he hummed a song he did not know nor care to truly understand, he had a Batman plushie in his hands, steadily unstitching the thread on its small chest. Then its arms.
Hearing all the commotion, the clown looked up to the entrance of the rec room. Ohhh somebody new!
Getting up and out of his seat, the Joker kept humming as he made his way over to Thorn.
Scarred, abandoned by guards, wow not even put into the uniform. He couldn’t help his chuckles.
“Well, what an entrance ya had there kiddo! Bravo, bravo!”
Thorn glances up at the clown with a raised eyebrow, then rolls his eyes and stands up, huffing slightly as he pushes himself up from the ground, the prosthetic arm and hand on his left side slightly whirring. He brushed down his hoodie- plain black with some lighter grey stripes on the sleeves. His right eye was completely white with a scar through it, and his left eye was a very dark brown- a trait Thorn got from his mother.
"I know, right? Fucking graceful." He snorts at his own joke as he walks to the corner to sit down. The corner he chose made it so he could see the entire room- and everyone in it. A strategic choice that spoke of a background with some flavor of training. Then he looked at the clown again and tilts his head. "You're wearing a lot of purple and green." He says bluntly, his autism shining through. "Do you have a fetish for those colors or something?"
The clown followed. Intrigued. His expression stayed fixed in his usual grin, even as the younger man cornered himself. Yes he could see everything, but running would be impossible. Heh.
He did wonder what caused those nasty little scars. Oh well, he’d find out soon enough.
By the corner, Joker leaned against the wall, picking idly as his dark gloves.
At the blunt comment, he can’t help but laugh.
“Y’know it’s rude to ask such personal things when ya don’t even ask for a name, kiddo. For your information, nah. They’re just my favorite.” He answered, flipping his hair with a snicker.
He did miss his purple suit unfortunately, Arkham uniforms were so… drab. Blues and greys. At least he still had his makeup. Even if apparently that made him a fetishist. Did that even apply to colors?
He didn’t want to know.
“What about ya? Do ya got a name or are ya just the kinda guy who decides to hide in corners like a rat?”
"Thorn." He answered the last question, that being the only one he really processed. Damn, this clown guy talks fast. Thorn shifted slightly in the corner, crossing his legs. He was used to sitting on floors and in general, to be honest. It helped him feel grounded. He leaned his back against the wall for a moment, then began slightly rocking back and forth. "I didn't ask your name because I know you wouldn't tell me. Everyone just calls you the Joker. So I figured you preferred that over whatever your name actually is." He said bluntly. No brain to mouth filter, it seemed. He had dark circles under his eyes, too- along with the medium grey streak on the same side as the scarred eye.
Joker tilted his head. Smart kid. Thorn was an odd name but hey, so was Joker.
The clown himself continued to pick at his gloves, watching Thorn with those acid green eyes. Smart, no filter. Not the best trait to have, but not a terrible one either.
“Thorn, how’d ya end up here? Clearly they didn’t take ya through the normal intake. Lucky you!” Joker said, using a hand to motion to Thorn up and down.
“Ya clearly don’t sleep well.”
Thorn shrugged. "I don't remember." He admitted quietly, scratching at his head for a moment, then putting his hands back into his pockets and rocking himself slightly again. "But I'm sure something bad had to have happened." He rubbed his face with his non-prosthetic hand, and nodded slightly. "I don't. I wake up a lot at night. Nightmares, and a broken internal clock aren't exactly a great combo. Throw in autism and vivid dreams and you've got a mental breakdown waiting to happen." He chuckled slightly.
Joker chuckled with him, slowly slightly down the wall to crouch. Not yet sitting. Still wary. But his smile never changed.
“Ohhh yeah that’ll do it! Haha! Lucky you then kiddo. Ya can’t have a breakdown if you’re asleep, or at least that’s what they try here. But well, sedation only does so much.” Another chuckle, his shoulders shaking as he tried to keep somewhat quiet.
“Maybe ya robbed someone, dressed up an inflatable dinosaur. Abandoned the costume, and then bought ten thousand lottery tickets!”
Thorn snorts. "That would be some pretty odd looking security footage, eh?" He raised an eyebrow and huffed as he rocked back and forth again, clearly struggling to remain still. He very much hated sitting still, or not having things to do. "But the problem with that is I can barely afford to get milk most of the time, and I dont think you can buy a dinosaur inflatable thing with foodstamps." He hummed. "And knowing how I get when I'm angry? I probably hurt someone again. It would be nice if I could actually remember, but you know. The voices say no memories for me." He hummed.
( @rottedroleplays Thorn muse)
Thorn had been doing so good. He had been doing *good*. Then something happened, and he suddenly felt like he was spiraling. Then he dissociated. Then- he doesn't remember what happened after that.
All he knows is that now, he's being practically dragged into Arkham. His storm grey streak in his hair is visible as the guards guide him forward. They hadn't taken his mp3 player or earbuds, which he was thankful for...but...
As the guards walked him past the activity room, Thorn caught a glimpse of the Joker. His father, he had found out through his adoptive family after they had refused to take him back into their case when he was honorably discharged... thats a long story.
Thorn stops walking for a moment. The guards, having had enough of him already, shove him forward- causing him to stumble and fall face first onto the floor of the activity room. Thorn hit the floor with a harsh thud, and he growled, getting to his feet rather quickly. "Oh go fuck yourselves." He called after the guards, who simply walked away. Thorn sighed, running a hand through his curly bangs while shaking his head.
The clown was in a full face of makeup, smiling to himself as he hummed a song he did not know nor care to truly understand, he had a Batman plushie in his hands, steadily unstitching the thread on its small chest. Then its arms.
Hearing all the commotion, the clown looked up to the entrance of the rec room. Ohhh somebody new!
Getting up and out of his seat, the Joker kept humming as he made his way over to Thorn.
Scarred, abandoned by guards, wow not even put into the uniform. He couldn’t help his chuckles.
“Well, what an entrance ya had there kiddo! Bravo, bravo!”
Thorn glances up at the clown with a raised eyebrow, then rolls his eyes and stands up, huffing slightly as he pushes himself up from the ground, the prosthetic arm and hand on his left side slightly whirring. He brushed down his hoodie- plain black with some lighter grey stripes on the sleeves. His right eye was completely white with a scar through it, and his left eye was a very dark brown- a trait Thorn got from his mother.
"I know, right? Fucking graceful." He snorts at his own joke as he walks to the corner to sit down. The corner he chose made it so he could see the entire room- and everyone in it. A strategic choice that spoke of a background with some flavor of training. Then he looked at the clown again and tilts his head. "You're wearing a lot of purple and green." He says bluntly, his autism shining through. "Do you have a fetish for those colors or something?"
The clown followed. Intrigued. His expression stayed fixed in his usual grin, even as the younger man cornered himself. Yes he could see everything, but running would be impossible. Heh.
He did wonder what caused those nasty little scars. Oh well, he’d find out soon enough.
By the corner, Joker leaned against the wall, picking idly as his dark gloves.
At the blunt comment, he can’t help but laugh.
“Y’know it’s rude to ask such personal things when ya don’t even ask for a name, kiddo. For your information, nah. They’re just my favorite.” He answered, flipping his hair with a snicker.
He did miss his purple suit unfortunately, Arkham uniforms were so… drab. Blues and greys. At least he still had his makeup. Even if apparently that made him a fetishist. Did that even apply to colors?
He didn’t want to know.
“What about ya? Do ya got a name or are ya just the kinda guy who decides to hide in corners like a rat?”
"Thorn." He answered the last question, that being the only one he really processed. Damn, this clown guy talks fast. Thorn shifted slightly in the corner, crossing his legs. He was used to sitting on floors and in general, to be honest. It helped him feel grounded. He leaned his back against the wall for a moment, then began slightly rocking back and forth. "I didn't ask your name because I know you wouldn't tell me. Everyone just calls you the Joker. So I figured you preferred that over whatever your name actually is." He said bluntly. No brain to mouth filter, it seemed. He had dark circles under his eyes, too- along with the medium grey streak on the same side as the scarred eye.
Joker tilted his head. Smart kid. Thorn was an odd name but hey, so was Joker.
The clown himself continued to pick at his gloves, watching Thorn with those acid green eyes. Smart, no filter. Not the best trait to have, but not a terrible one either.
“Thorn, how’d ya end up here? Clearly they didn’t take ya through the normal intake. Lucky you!” Joker said, using a hand to motion to Thorn up and down.
“Ya clearly don’t sleep well.”
Thorn shrugged. "I don't remember." He admitted quietly, scratching at his head for a moment, then putting his hands back into his pockets and rocking himself slightly again. "But I'm sure something bad had to have happened." He rubbed his face with his non-prosthetic hand, and nodded slightly. "I don't. I wake up a lot at night. Nightmares, and a broken internal clock aren't exactly a great combo. Throw in autism and vivid dreams and you've got a mental breakdown waiting to happen." He chuckled slightly.
( @rottedroleplays Thorn muse)
Thorn had been doing so good. He had been doing *good*. Then something happened, and he suddenly felt like he was spiraling. Then he dissociated. Then- he doesn't remember what happened after that.
All he knows is that now, he's being practically dragged into Arkham. His storm grey streak in his hair is visible as the guards guide him forward. They hadn't taken his mp3 player or earbuds, which he was thankful for...but...
As the guards walked him past the activity room, Thorn caught a glimpse of the Joker. His father, he had found out through his adoptive family after they had refused to take him back into their case when he was honorably discharged... thats a long story.
Thorn stops walking for a moment. The guards, having had enough of him already, shove him forward- causing him to stumble and fall face first onto the floor of the activity room. Thorn hit the floor with a harsh thud, and he growled, getting to his feet rather quickly. "Oh go fuck yourselves." He called after the guards, who simply walked away. Thorn sighed, running a hand through his curly bangs while shaking his head.
The clown was in a full face of makeup, smiling to himself as he hummed a song he did not know nor care to truly understand, he had a Batman plushie in his hands, steadily unstitching the thread on its small chest. Then its arms.
Hearing all the commotion, the clown looked up to the entrance of the rec room. Ohhh somebody new!
Getting up and out of his seat, the Joker kept humming as he made his way over to Thorn.
Scarred, abandoned by guards, wow not even put into the uniform. He couldn’t help his chuckles.
“Well, what an entrance ya had there kiddo! Bravo, bravo!”
Thorn glances up at the clown with a raised eyebrow, then rolls his eyes and stands up, huffing slightly as he pushes himself up from the ground, the prosthetic arm and hand on his left side slightly whirring. He brushed down his hoodie- plain black with some lighter grey stripes on the sleeves. His right eye was completely white with a scar through it, and his left eye was a very dark brown- a trait Thorn got from his mother.
"I know, right? Fucking graceful." He snorts at his own joke as he walks to the corner to sit down. The corner he chose made it so he could see the entire room- and everyone in it. A strategic choice that spoke of a background with some flavor of training. Then he looked at the clown again and tilts his head. "You're wearing a lot of purple and green." He says bluntly, his autism shining through. "Do you have a fetish for those colors or something?"
The clown followed. Intrigued. His expression stayed fixed in his usual grin, even as the younger man cornered himself. Yes he could see everything, but running would be impossible. Heh.
He did wonder what caused those nasty little scars. Oh well, he’d find out soon enough.
By the corner, Joker leaned against the wall, picking idly as his dark gloves.
At the blunt comment, he can’t help but laugh.
“Y’know it’s rude to ask such personal things when ya don’t even ask for a name, kiddo. For your information, nah. They’re just my favorite.” He answered, flipping his hair with a snicker.
He did miss his purple suit unfortunately, Arkham uniforms were so… drab. Blues and greys. At least he still had his makeup. Even if apparently that made him a fetishist. Did that even apply to colors?
He didn’t want to know.
“What about ya? Do ya got a name or are ya just the kinda guy who decides to hide in corners like a rat?”
"Thorn." He answered the last question, that being the only one he really processed. Damn, this clown guy talks fast. Thorn shifted slightly in the corner, crossing his legs. He was used to sitting on floors and in general, to be honest. It helped him feel grounded. He leaned his back against the wall for a moment, then began slightly rocking back and forth. "I didn't ask your name because I know you wouldn't tell me. Everyone just calls you the Joker. So I figured you preferred that over whatever your name actually is." He said bluntly. No brain to mouth filter, it seemed. He had dark circles under his eyes, too- along with the medium grey streak on the same side as the scarred eye.
( @rottedroleplays Thorn muse)
Thorn had been doing so good. He had been doing *good*. Then something happened, and he suddenly felt like he was spiraling. Then he dissociated. Then- he doesn't remember what happened after that.
All he knows is that now, he's being practically dragged into Arkham. His storm grey streak in his hair is visible as the guards guide him forward. They hadn't taken his mp3 player or earbuds, which he was thankful for...but...
As the guards walked him past the activity room, Thorn caught a glimpse of the Joker. His father, he had found out through his adoptive family after they had refused to take him back into their case when he was honorably discharged... thats a long story.
Thorn stops walking for a moment. The guards, having had enough of him already, shove him forward- causing him to stumble and fall face first onto the floor of the activity room. Thorn hit the floor with a harsh thud, and he growled, getting to his feet rather quickly. "Oh go fuck yourselves." He called after the guards, who simply walked away. Thorn sighed, running a hand through his curly bangs while shaking his head.
The clown was in a full face of makeup, smiling to himself as he hummed a song he did not know nor care to truly understand, he had a Batman plushie in his hands, steadily unstitching the thread on its small chest. Then its arms.
Hearing all the commotion, the clown looked up to the entrance of the rec room. Ohhh somebody new!
Getting up and out of his seat, the Joker kept humming as he made his way over to Thorn.
Scarred, abandoned by guards, wow not even put into the uniform. He couldn’t help his chuckles.
“Well, what an entrance ya had there kiddo! Bravo, bravo!”
Thorn glances up at the clown with a raised eyebrow, then rolls his eyes and stands up, huffing slightly as he pushes himself up from the ground, the prosthetic arm and hand on his left side slightly whirring. He brushed down his hoodie- plain black with some lighter grey stripes on the sleeves. His right eye was completely white with a scar through it, and his left eye was a very dark brown- a trait Thorn got from his mother.
"I know, right? Fucking graceful." He snorts at his own joke as he walks to the corner to sit down. The corner he chose made it so he could see the entire room- and everyone in it. A strategic choice that spoke of a background with some flavor of training. Then he looked at the clown again and tilts his head. "You're wearing a lot of purple and green." He says bluntly, his autism shining through. "Do you have a fetish for those colors or something?"
//planning to draw my version of Harley for the blog. I’ll post when it’s done! ^^
//posted to the wrong blog- oops!!!
//BUT HERE SHE IS!!!!
I’M SO EXCITED BC I LOVE HARLS SM AND THIS IS THE FIRST TIME IM GIVING HER AN ACTUAL DESIGN AND SHES SO CUTE!!!
//finally… she is done!!!!
Mind you, this was my first time using procreate, so it’s probably bad. It was also my first time drawing Harley so…
BUT I LIKE IT SM!!!
I THINK SHE CAME OUT GOOD ENOUGH LOLOLOL
Mod: hi so I love her
Muse information: Thorn Napier-Morte
Backstory contains mentions of abuse, parentification, abandonment, alcoholism, and near death experience.
( @rottedroleplays )
A certain green haired, freakishly tall clown, was calmly walking down the street. Though he wasn't wearing the usual purple and green get up- he was dressed in something almost...simple. a purple turtleneck, black skinny jeans, and an unzipped green hoodie. He is wearing bright purple shoes with bright green laces, and for once- the makeup he usually painted on wasn't present. Meaning...his scars are visible. The scars from the acid. The scars on his cheeks are visible too. His ginger roots are coming in as well. He's got in a pair of earrings- one is a present moon and the other is a star. As he walks, he spots Harley out of the corner of his eye. He blinks slightly and pauses, then continues walking, slightly hoping she hadn't spotted him. They hadn't spoken in quite some time...and Jack honestly wasn't ready for that kind of confrontation right now.
He picked up the speed of his walking, and the German Sheppard that he was walking whined slightly, nosing at his legs. "Sssh, ssssh!" Jack shushed the vested animal, trying to hurry and not be seen.
She, unfortunately for him, does notice. And even though it takes her a moment to, she gasps and grins widely. She rushes over as quickly as she possibly can, clearly excited.
J! That you! How ya doin? I haven’t seen ya in a long time!
She notices the German Shepherd and crouches in front of it.
And ya got yerself a friend! Hey there buddy! What yer name?
She holds her hand out to greet the dog and let it sniff her hand.
What’re ya up to anyways, J? What brings ya ta this side of town?
Jack says nothing for a moment, taking a deep breath as his hold on the dog's leash tightens. The dog, sensing Jack's growing anxiety, doesn't approach Harley. The large dog places herself between her human and Jack. Jack swallowed slightly and forced a smile onto his face as he had gone many times before. "Just...taking her on a walk." He took a step back from Harley, looking up and down the dimly lit streets. He did not like this. Damn it. He should've been smarter about this. "Her name is Mabel." He managed. Mabel gently huffed, turning and nosing at Jack's legs again. She then gently jumped up and put her front paws on Jack's torso, pushing him backwards and forcing him to sit on a nearby bench. Jack allowed Mabel to push him down, resting a hand on her head and trying to keep the tremors at bay. When did Harley even get out? "I...I didn't know they let you out, Harleen." Jack muttered, running a hand down the back of Mabel's head and focusing on the feeling of her weight in his lap. Mabel was wearing a bright purple vest with large blocky text reading 'DO NOT PET', and another patch that read 'Psychiatric Service Dog', and a third patch reading 'DO NOT DISTRACT'.
She frowns a bit, worried. Harley soon stands and smiles at him, much calmer and softer now.
Yeah, I got out a lil bit ago…
She pauses, thinking over her words for a moment before letting out a soft, breathy laugh.
Ya seem surprised that I’m out, J…
… Mabel’s a nice name… fits ‘er perfectly…
She momentarily pauses again.
How’ve ya been doin by the way? You look a bit… anxious… ta say the least…
I’d even say uncomfy… sorry if I’m makin ya feel like that… it ain’t my intention…
She watches him carefully, concerned about his anxious state.
Jack shakes his head. "No- no no! Its not your fault!" He immediately reassures, mentally cursing himself for being so obvious. The forced smile on his face gets wider as he chuckles "Really, its not your fault at all, dear!" The nickname falls easily. He's slipping back into the role of the Joker, because it's easier than being Jack. Even if he doesn't want to go back to Harley. Go back to that destruction he'd caused with his untreated psychosis. Mabel, able to tell Jack is slipping again- barks lightly and presses her head into Jack chest, her tail thumping against the bench.
At the alert from Mabel, Jack forces himself to take a deep breath. The smile that had been forced too wide softens into something smaller, his eyebrows creasing together as he runs both hands down Mabel's back. He really had to get away from here- get back to the house, maybe. Away from Harley. They had been awful for each other- actively making the other worse. And Jack- he didn't want that to happen again. He's been better off- and he can tell Harley is better without him, too.
Part of him is proud of her for that. For getting better. He takes another shaky breath. "Ive been...fine." he laughed a bit. God, is he really this bad at socializing? "I haven't...hurt anybody, in a while." He keeps running his hands down Mabel's back, one of his legs bouncing anxiously. "But enough about me! What about you? You seem...healthier." he smiled- genuienly this time.
She’s obviously still worried, frowning slightly at the sight of his panic.
… yeah, things have been good actually… me and red finally moved in togetha…
She pauses again.
Ya sure you’re alright, J-
She cuts herself off, realizing that may be a cause of why he’s uncomfortable.
…Jack… are you sure you’re alright?
His hands briefly clench and then unclench. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself for the words he's going to try and say. But he is afraid of how Harley will react- and he's scared of a violent reaction. Mabel noses at his chest again, and he takes a deep breath. Mabel is still keeping herself placed between Jack and Harley.
Jack takes another breath. "I-..." he trails off. What is he even supposed to say? 'I dont hate you, but I cant be around you without worrying that ill say something stupid and we'll start fighting'? No, that's horrible. And 'we cant be around each other because all we do is hurt each other' isn't much better! God- he doesn't know what to so... he takes another breath, resting his head against Mabel's for a moment before looking at Harley. "They were supposed to tell me when they were going to let you out. We aren't supposed to be interacting unsupervised, or at all if it can be helped. I wouldn't have brought Mabel's walk this way if I had known you were out." His hands tightens on Mabel's leash again. Mabel whines, and noses him again, putting a paw on his thigh. Trying to remind him to stay calm. "And frankly I don't- think we should try to be friends. We- we were horrible to each other, Harleen. We can't be friends for more than a few minutes before we're fighting like wolves. We just-" he sighs. "We shouldn't even be in the same city." He hates that he sounds so harsh. "And I won't ask you to move away." He immediately clarified. "I won't make you do that. But- they weren't- they were supposed to tell me when they let you out so I wouldn't-" his hands clenched and unclenched, his breathing slightly hitching.
God, this night couldn't get any worse. He had just been going through his routine of walking Mabel before turning in for the night- then he'd bumped into Harley and now his whole routine was thrown off and he was not happy. And its cold, and far too dark, and he doesn't know what to do- he can feel himself approaching meltdown territory and god, he really is pathetic isnt he.
( @rottedroleplays )
A certain green haired, freakishly tall clown, was calmly walking down the street. Though he wasn't wearing the usual purple and green get up- he was dressed in something almost...simple. a purple turtleneck, black skinny jeans, and an unzipped green hoodie. He is wearing bright purple shoes with bright green laces, and for once- the makeup he usually painted on wasn't present. Meaning...his scars are visible. The scars from the acid. The scars on his cheeks are visible too. His ginger roots are coming in as well. He's got in a pair of earrings- one is a present moon and the other is a star. As he walks, he spots Harley out of the corner of his eye. He blinks slightly and pauses, then continues walking, slightly hoping she hadn't spotted him. They hadn't spoken in quite some time...and Jack honestly wasn't ready for that kind of confrontation right now.
He picked up the speed of his walking, and the German Sheppard that he was walking whined slightly, nosing at his legs. "Sssh, ssssh!" Jack shushed the vested animal, trying to hurry and not be seen.
She, unfortunately for him, does notice. And even though it takes her a moment to, she gasps and grins widely. She rushes over as quickly as she possibly can, clearly excited.
J! That you! How ya doin? I haven’t seen ya in a long time!
She notices the German Shepherd and crouches in front of it.
And ya got yerself a friend! Hey there buddy! What yer name?
She holds her hand out to greet the dog and let it sniff her hand.
What’re ya up to anyways, J? What brings ya ta this side of town?
Jack says nothing for a moment, taking a deep breath as his hold on the dog's leash tightens. The dog, sensing Jack's growing anxiety, doesn't approach Harley. The large dog places herself between her human and Jack. Jack swallowed slightly and forced a smile onto his face as he had gone many times before. "Just...taking her on a walk." He took a step back from Harley, looking up and down the dimly lit streets. He did not like this. Damn it. He should've been smarter about this. "Her name is Mabel." He managed. Mabel gently huffed, turning and nosing at Jack's legs again. She then gently jumped up and put her front paws on Jack's torso, pushing him backwards and forcing him to sit on a nearby bench. Jack allowed Mabel to push him down, resting a hand on her head and trying to keep the tremors at bay. When did Harley even get out? "I...I didn't know they let you out, Harleen." Jack muttered, running a hand down the back of Mabel's head and focusing on the feeling of her weight in his lap. Mabel was wearing a bright purple vest with large blocky text reading 'DO NOT PET', and another patch that read 'Psychiatric Service Dog', and a third patch reading 'DO NOT DISTRACT'.
She frowns a bit, worried. Harley soon stands and smiles at him, much calmer and softer now.
Yeah, I got out a lil bit ago…
She pauses, thinking over her words for a moment before letting out a soft, breathy laugh.
Ya seem surprised that I’m out, J…
… Mabel’s a nice name… fits ‘er perfectly…
She momentarily pauses again.
How’ve ya been doin by the way? You look a bit… anxious… ta say the least…
I’d even say uncomfy… sorry if I’m makin ya feel like that… it ain’t my intention…
She watches him carefully, concerned about his anxious state.
Jack shakes his head. "No- no no! Its not your fault!" He immediately reassures, mentally cursing himself for being so obvious. The forced smile on his face gets wider as he chuckles "Really, its not your fault at all, dear!" The nickname falls easily. He's slipping back into the role of the Joker, because it's easier than being Jack. Even if he doesn't want to go back to Harley. Go back to that destruction he'd caused with his untreated psychosis. Mabel, able to tell Jack is slipping again- barks lightly and presses her head into Jack chest, her tail thumping against the bench.
At the alert from Mabel, Jack forces himself to take a deep breath. The smile that had been forced too wide softens into something smaller, his eyebrows creasing together as he runs both hands down Mabel's back. He really had to get away from here- get back to the house, maybe. Away from Harley. They had been awful for each other- actively making the other worse. And Jack- he didn't want that to happen again. He's been better off- and he can tell Harley is better without him, too.
Part of him is proud of her for that. For getting better. He takes another shaky breath. "Ive been...fine." he laughed a bit. God, is he really this bad at socializing? "I haven't...hurt anybody, in a while." He keeps running his hands down Mabel's back, one of his legs bouncing anxiously. "But enough about me! What about you? You seem...healthier." he smiled- genuienly this time.
( @rottedroleplays )
A certain green haired, freakishly tall clown, was calmly walking down the street. Though he wasn't wearing the usual purple and green get up- he was dressed in something almost...simple. a purple turtleneck, black skinny jeans, and an unzipped green hoodie. He is wearing bright purple shoes with bright green laces, and for once- the makeup he usually painted on wasn't present. Meaning...his scars are visible. The scars from the acid. The scars on his cheeks are visible too. His ginger roots are coming in as well. He's got in a pair of earrings- one is a present moon and the other is a star. As he walks, he spots Harley out of the corner of his eye. He blinks slightly and pauses, then continues walking, slightly hoping she hadn't spotted him. They hadn't spoken in quite some time...and Jack honestly wasn't ready for that kind of confrontation right now.
He picked up the speed of his walking, and the German Sheppard that he was walking whined slightly, nosing at his legs. "Sssh, ssssh!" Jack shushed the vested animal, trying to hurry and not be seen.
She, unfortunately for him, does notice. And even though it takes her a moment to, she gasps and grins widely. She rushes over as quickly as she possibly can, clearly excited.
J! That you! How ya doin? I haven’t seen ya in a long time!
She notices the German Shepherd and crouches in front of it.
And ya got yerself a friend! Hey there buddy! What yer name?
She holds her hand out to greet the dog and let it sniff her hand.
What’re ya up to anyways, J? What brings ya ta this side of town?
Jack says nothing for a moment, taking a deep breath as his hold on the dog's leash tightens. The dog, sensing Jack's growing anxiety, doesn't approach Harley. The large dog places herself between her human and Jack. Jack swallowed slightly and forced a smile onto his face as he had gone many times before. "Just...taking her on a walk." He took a step back from Harley, looking up and down the dimly lit streets. He did not like this. Damn it. He should've been smarter about this. "Her name is Mabel." He managed. Mabel gently huffed, turning and nosing at Jack's legs again. She then gently jumped up and put her front paws on Jack's torso, pushing him backwards and forcing him to sit on a nearby bench. Jack allowed Mabel to push him down, resting a hand on her head and trying to keep the tremors at bay. When did Harley even get out? "I...I didn't know they let you out, Harleen." Jack muttered, running a hand down the back of Mabel's head and focusing on the feeling of her weight in his lap. Mabel was wearing a bright purple vest with large blocky text reading 'DO NOT PET', and another patch that read 'Psychiatric Service Dog', and a third patch reading 'DO NOT DISTRACT'.
“Well I must say, Batsy…you clean up nicely! I quite enjoy this new suit of yours. You aren’t wearing pants, though. Why is that? You finally get tired of constantly ripping them with those juicy thighs of yours?” Jack grins as he tilts his head to the side, a curl of his fading green dyed hair falling into his eyes.
( @rottedroleplays )
“Pants?”
Wayne glances down. Only his bare ankles can be seen, as he’s currently in one of his plush red robes. A rare moment of downtime.
“Oh. You mean the suit.”
What else could he mean??
“Any reason you’ve come by today? Or is it another spur of the moment, bother Bats sort of day?”
Jack *snorts*, then laughs softly and pulls himself fully through Bruce’s window. As if this is just a normal occurrence. “Oh come on, Batsy~ you know Id never bother you just for the sake of bothering you!” He closed the window behind himself and crossed his arms, leaning against the closed window with his arms crossed across his chest, a soft smile on his face. “…you’re damn sexy in that robe of yours, you know~.” He grinned as he pushed himself forward, gently grabbing Bruce by the front of the robe. “But I bet you’d look even better without it.”
Muse information - Jack Oswald-White Napier AKA The Joker
Content warning: the following post below the cut contains themes of religious trauma, religious abuse, medical neglect, child neglect, alcoholic parents, absent parents, abusive parents, exorcisms, ableism, unhealthy relationships, abusive relationships and self harm.
