#pmlislyy

[justacomedy-archived]

@pmlislyy​:  ❛  this whole cynical thing is just an act so that you can seem wounded and mysterious and sexy.  ❜ 

— ‘This whole cynical thing.' She speaks of his personality as if it were an act. He’s sat at the vanity applying his makeup, preparing for the night and he’s silent as he ponders over her question. At first, he doesn’t look at her; focusing on his reflection carefully as he wipes the remainder of white greasepaint lingering on the brush across his tongue before bringing the cigarette he held to his lips to take a slow drag from it. Perhaps his way of adding effect; people say he’s crazy, afterall. Tapping the brush against the edge of the jar of white paint on the vanity, eyes following the motion before he finally steals a glance at her in the mirror. She’s been watching him; he knows it and while it would make someone else subconscious with how intently she’s spying on him in the mirror, he likes the thought. Her eyes are on him just where he wants them to be. Her attention was something he worked so hard to capture and intended to keep. Let her watch. Besides, she thinks he’s sexy- she said so herself. Or at least that’s how he interpreted it.

— “Who said it was an act?” he questioned smoke streaming from his mouth with each word spoken as he set the bush on the table and he lifted his chin to admire his work thus far in the mirror. A layer of white paste painted across his face; he’d need to add another layer to hide the color of his skin peeking through the opaque white before moving onto the next color. He knows that his actions are built upon his wounds. His hurt. And he likes to look mysterious, people cannot predict his actions nor could they figure out his thoughts. Arthur Fleck was a predictable man. Weak. People knew that he’d do as they say- that he wouldn’t fight back and defend himself. They hurt him and he allowed it. Those days have long since passed and he’s found himself confident in his actions, guilt free thoughts carry him and his finger anxiously awaits at the trigger of his revolver. He likes it this way. People fear him.

— Hawk like eyes return to her reflection; his cold gaze warming at the sight of her because she was the only thing he has ever cared about and the sight of her alone was enough to keep him alive. How deeply he cares for her scares him. “Do you think it’s sexy?” he then asked casually, bringing the cigarette to his lips once more, eyes unmoving as he focused intently on her through the reflection of her behind him in the mirror to make sure her words are as true as her expressions. He stopped caring how he looks to anyone, the way he comes off to people didn’t matter as long as he ended up on top. No one can hurt him anymore. But her opinion of him was the only one valued and he finds himself curious to know the truth of what she thinks. 

[shesquiinnsane-a2]

— ☆   PAMMY   //   @pmlislyy​   ♢

“You knew Psycho was a women-hating little sadist when we first found him at that dive bar downtown and yet you still gave him a chance. So, I say, let him deal with the consequences of his own actions. No one has ever been able to reign in that little asshole anyways, so if you tried you’d probably only piss him off more. I mean, look at Clayface and King. They try and end up getting their faces smashed by broken toasters.”

❝  Just because I knew he was a woman-hating little sadist doesn't mean I processed the fact that I'd have to live with him being a woman-hating little sadist all of the fucking time.   I need people Ives ,   and he sets my bar low. Granted he also throws my standards out of the goddamn window but he's a start and we're starting out so it'll be fine. I just don't wanna be the kinda leader that straps grenades to their team when they mess up !!   Wait   —   that's an idea !!   Maybe I should invest in some broke toasters and throw them at him and declare it target practice !!  ❞

[ascnsion]

▋ 𝑰𝑵𝑺𝑰𝑫𝑬 𝑨 𝑴𝑨𝑫𝑫𝑬𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑫 .  .  .  .  .         ❛ i don’t need anyone but myself.   ❜   𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈   @pmlislyy​ .  .  .   ( netflix’s daredevil memes )      ┘    

Upper lip protruded due to the movement of crude prodding of tongue; mouth continued to produce wet, suckling sounds as tongue continued to run across the top row of teeth. What was that, corn, a torn gum, or a bit of flesh that wasn’t his own ?  Flesh beneath ebony suit was irritated and becoming more swollen with each ticking hour, yet bruises from altercations were as normal ( and slightly less irritating ) as mosquito bites. No. Kills were as normal, and getting flesh and meat beaten in a little was a joy few were fortunate to do. . even fewer escape with their lives afterwards. Spotting what appeared to be a venus fly trap, Bullseye idly wondered if the damn thing would eat an ear, then regretted not keeping the ear he had to bite off an hour past. Mike Tyson would have been proud.

         ❝   Didn’t anyone tell you. . you shouldn’t walk the streets alone.   ❞    The man finally relented and shoved fingers intrusively into mouth, then pried loose the ugly bit of red-pink flesh for inspection. Be it his own or someone else’s, the obstacle was flicked aside carelessly before a snort at the strange woman’s response. He wasn’t even going to get into the whole tree huger look.

        ❝   That’s what everyone says, the good guys and the bad guys. Then everyone ends up teaming up, eventually fucking each other, and then bawling their stupid eyes out when someone dies. Look at ya’, you’re so lonely you need plants as company.   ❞    

[justacomedy-archived]

@pmlislyy​ sent: drunk: my muse takes care of your muse while they are in a drunken state.

     He doesn’t like seeing her like this: she’s had far too much to drink and she’s swaying on her feet. Ruby hair messily draping her shoulders and she’s oh too vulnerable to the dangerous world around her. She’s too drunk to fight, despite the feisty temper of her that threatens to flair with every sip of the intoxicating drinks she nurses throughout the night. Arthur has never enjoyed alcohol himself: sure he may have a drink every once in a while during a special occasion just because it was the social norm, but the smell alone always stirred up a feeling of discomfort inside his soul  Suppressed childhood trauma from the men Penny allowed to bring him harm for years stirred beneath his subconscious and he’s left nearly repulsed at thought of drinking despite being unable to recall onto the shrouded memories. But even for a man who’s never been drunk a time in his life: he thinks he knows the difference between Ivy’s social drinking and stress drinking. She knows her limits and he’s noticed that sometimes, she drinks this much when something has upset her, an unfortunate coping mechanism that he’s never once judged nor condemned her for.      He’d found her at her favorite nightclub: usually if he doesn’t see or hear from her after a few hours when he knows she’s going out to drink, he comes to find her with the intentions of making sure she’s safe. Initiations that he can bring her to his apartment where he’d know she’s safely tucked away between warm sheets under his care and he’d be comforted by taking care of her in her most vulnerable state. It doesn’t take him long to spot her as she lights up any room she stands in and he steps in her direction without further hesitation. Upon greeting her, he reaches up to gently tuck away a loose portion of her hair from her face behind her ear, the gaze of his emerald hues bore into her. “Hey-” he speaks, his voice gentle. He’s never mad at her at times like this- he was always more concerned than angry. “Looks like you’ve had a good time, ready to come home?” he asked. Home- it’s his apartment but they share the space often enough that to him, it’s her home too. She’s the only person he allows in and out of his space. And Arthur speaks to her as if she was the only one in the room: as if they weren’t standing in the center of some popular nightclub and this is because he always drowns out the world around him as he focuses entirely on her. Nothing else around them mattered in the moment- just her and him.

     This wasn’t the first time he’s come to her like this and every time was all one in the same. A tender approach with soft touches and he never forces her to go with him if she rebels. He’d simply stay tucked out of her sight where he could easily intervene if she needed him. He wants to protect her. With his other hand, he takes ahold of her hand and brings it up to his lips where he plants a tender, endearing kiss to her knuckles before pressing her hand to his chest where maybe she’d feel the pulse of heart beating for her. “We can watch some old movies-” he offered. “The night doesn’t have to end here.” Arthur knows she needs rest and sometimes, she’s not always so keen on the idea of her fun coming to an end, so he wants to make coming to his apartment sound appealing. The two have wasted many hours together tucked beneath a shared blanket on his sofa watching old movies: something they both enjoyed doing when they weren’t out ruling the city. And he’d bring her some water- food- medicine. Whatever she needed and perhaps while she’s wrapped in his arms, she’d doze into a deep slumber and he’d help her through her hangover in the morning without complaint.  

[justacomedy-archived]

@pmlislyy​ said:  [ caught ]  for  your  muse  to  catch  my  muse  wearing  their  shirt .

         The adjustment after Ivy and Sage moving in with him wasn’t much- not for Arthur at least because it was the best thing that could ever happen to him. The two girls he loved the most now live under his roof and he couldn’t ask for more. He’s been keeping up with his medication and going to work just as he promised he would as they both want to try their best to give Sage as normal of a life as possible. He works hard- long hours spent on his feet before he’d return home and for the first time in his life, he liked the thought of home. Because when he’d walk in the door, he was greeted by his family. A woman who has come into his life and a beautiful daughter they’ve had together and both of them have shown him that home is actually the people that make it: not just the space they occupy. He’s never had a place to feel comfortable and enjoy being in and with them, he feels welcomed. Loved. Happy. He’s home.

     It wasn’t unusual for him to work Friday nights: as a party clown during the spring time, the weather was nice and there are more birthday parties to attend and Arthur always pushed to earn these shifts to entertain children at these parties-  entertaining children had always been his favorite thing to do because he loves watching the amazement and joy on their little faces upon seeing one of his various magic tricks and hearing the sound of their laughter. Things that Arthur was deprived of himself as a child. He’s come home just past Sage’s bed time, being as quiet as he can as he strips and hangs his jacket by the door. The only light on in the living room is a single small lamp that Ivy often leaves on for him when he works late, which often indicates to Arthur that Ivy has retired for the night. He removes his shoes before heading over to turn the lamp off and heads to the bedroom where he expects to find Ivy fast asleep in their bed. 

     To his surprise, he opens the door only to find her still awake, sitting on the bed wearing one of his shirts. The sight brings a smile to his face: to him, she always looks beautiful no matter what she may be wearing but seeing her in his shirt was something special. The fabric gently dangles over the curves of her body and he wonders if she’s wearing it because it carries his scent and she likes it. Or maybe she’s wearing it to feel closer to him somehow. She looks so comfortable. Relaxed. Beautiful. He’s not sure if she’s aware of him standing there in the doorway, admiring her in silence for a few moments before he decides to cut the silence. “Wow- you really make that shirt look good.”

[justacomedy-archived]

@pmlislyy​ sent:  😘 [ you know what to do ]

     Hot water streamed down his slender frame, a hand pressed against the tile beneath the shower head to remove some pressure from his aching feet as his eyes are focused downwards to watch the mixture of blood, sweat and dirt mixed into the water puddle around his feet as the sins from the night washed from his skin and slowly sunk down through circular grates of the drain. It was one of the few moments in his life when his mind was quiet- the sound of the water pattering against his skin giving him temporary relief of the constant rambling of voices and songs that echoed throughout his head day and night. The sound of the shower door sliding open draws him from whatever place he’s found himself in, emerald eyes lifting only to be greeted with the bare body of the woman he loves and they trail upwards until they meet with her own: eyes greener than nature itself and far more beautiful than anything nature could provide.       There are no words exchanged between them as she steps forward, inviting herself into the shower with him and he removes his hand from the wall, stepping slightly to the side to invite her beneath the water that rained down on him and his one of his hands soon finds it’s place on the groove of her waist. He’s always been a gentleman- even in times like now when he’s left breathless at the sight of her naked body. His mind never comes to sexual thoughts as he’s far too busy admiring every curve and dip of her as if she were a canvas filled with natural beauty. He’s watching her as if he’s never seen her naked before: as if his lips had never been pressed along the silk skin of her breasts because every time he sees her, he’s left in a state of awe. Amazement. She’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. He’s not sure what to expect of her but her presence here makes him feel so comfortable.      Soon, her body is pressed flushed against before, the water cascading down from her shoulders and her hands that carried a touch that can kill, yet so soft against his flesh cup around the sunken cheeks of his face and he finds her lips embracing his own. Eyes fluttered shut as a soft sigh of pleasure escaped his parted lips before deepening their kiss. His other hand shifts to be placed on the other side of her waist before he delicately slides both hands in an upward motion before coming back down to settle on her hips where he grips them gently and begins to guide her back against the tile wall, their kisses becoming more sloppy with each passing second as desire began to fuel his actions and   his tongue began to dance with hers in a heat of desperation. 

[justacomedy-archived]

@pmlislyy​ sent:  “ don’t do that— don’t shut down on me. let me in. ”

     Once upon a time, he used to try to let people in. He’d sit down with his mother and speak to her about his thoughts: concerns and feelings or even something that was actually trivial. And she’d simply brush through his concerns as if they were silly. ‘Oh, Happy, why are you saving up to buy that cologne anyways? It’s not going to help you get a girlfriend, no one wants to date a clown.’ Words spoken to him once after he’d recently opened up to Penny about wanting to find someone: that perhaps if he bought an expensive cologne, maybe someone would stay around long enough lured in by the scent of it to at least give him a chance to speak and maybe, they’d see that he wasn’t that bad. That he was just like anyone else. It didn’t take him long to realize that his mother offered him nothing, so he kept everything to himself. It wasn’t until he returned to the hospital and started therapy years ago when he tried a second time to be open, but the therapist never listened. She never actually read the journal he wrote in and his words were spoken to deaf ears. Nothing new- no one listens.       His performance on the Murray Franklin  show was the first time anyone has actually ever heard his voice and listened to his words, though this was only a scratch on the surface of all things that burden Arthur and even now, all this time later with his new life shared with a woman he’s falling in love with, he struggles to open up to her. Perhaps it was drilled into him after years of rejection, or perhaps it was a fear of his that if he were to allow these thoughts and emotions to spill out in front of Ivy, that she would leave him and never look back. That like the rest of the world, the only person that actually seems to love him would find herself disgusted at just how disappointing J really was tucked beneath the façade of the Joker. She doesn’t know Arthur: the mentally ill loner suffocating in his own negative thoughts. Ones that he so desperately wished to talk about but no one cared enough to listen. No, she only knows Joker. The man brimming in confidence that Arthur blossomed into and yet his old tendencies remain hidden behind the bright red suit and swagger that’s presented to the world. He puts on a show and he looks strong- powerful even. But he returns home just the same as he used to every single night that he spends alone where he wipes away his greasepaint in the mirror, tears silently rolling down his cheeks all while staring at the reflection of a depressed man who simply wants to die. 

     “I don’t think you can handle being let in.” he said, giving her a glance with a half shrug before looking away. A forlorn look crossed his features as emerald eyes settled on the floor. A soft exhale from his nostrils in place of a laugh escaped him as a joke crossed his mind. “Too many jokes floating around in there, you’d die laughing if I let you in.” Of course when he speaks about the ‘jokes floating around’, he’s actually referring to his own memories. Everything awful that’s happened to him tangled with severely negative thoughts that stayed fresh in his mind. He’s always thought his life was a comedy: and every time he thinks about these things, he laughs. Every thought and every memory were nothing but jokes. His life was a joke. And Ivy never came off to be the type of woman who seemed to care- the two of them never really took the time to actually get to know each other, to know who they really were or who they used to be. In a way, he liked it because if she didn’t care enough, then he wouldn’t risk loosing her because he’d never open up to her. “Why do you care anyways? Don’t you have plants to go water?”

[hrlnqnzll]

closed starter for @pmlislyy.

"---- WHAT? I wasn't gonna kill 'im, I swear." She holds up both hands as if to show that she's harmless, but she definitely has a bedazzled bowie knife still clutched in her right hand. "I was only gonna maim him like... a little bit. Y'know, teach him a lesson about..." she stammers, her still raised arms shrugging. "I don't fuckin' know like I guess ecology an' shit. An' also not fuckin' with Gotham bitches!" She looks like she might kick the man in question, who is presently cowering on the floor beneath Harley, but she thinks better of it and instead looks to her companion.

"I hate it when we gotta do things the right way." Her voice is mocking, but she sighs and lowers her hands in resignation. "I mean, dontchya ever just wanna have some fun?? Real old fashioned fun, Pam. Yannow, like hittin' a dude in his dick with a baseball bat just to watch him throw up."