The Joker - Blog Posts

Chapters: 32/32 Fandom: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Suicide Squad (2016), Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel, Joker (DCU) & Bruce Wayne, Joker/Harley Quinn Characters: Joker (DCU), Harleen Quinzel, Edward Nygma, Pamela Isley, Bruce Wayne, Jim Gordon, Harvey Bullock, Hugo Strange Additional Tags: Memory Loss, Canon-Typical Violence, Abusive Relationships, Joker (DCU)'s Name is Jack, Blood and Violence, Amnesia, Minor Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel Summary:

Jack Napier was a nobody. A nobody without friends, without a family and most importantly, without memories. His life began four months ago when he woke up at the Gotham General. Alone. Nobody seemed to be looking for him and nobody seemed to miss him. But if so, then why did he have the recurring dream of a blonde beauty? And where did the voice come from? The voice in his head that longed for blood.

This story is finally finished, so for everyone who is relucant to start reading a work in progress, now is your time XD.

They're dummies

He wasn't laughing.. He was crying.

finally deciding to post these batman au designs i did towards the beginning of the year!! its an au shared w my partner @harpycartoons called dissident au (bc dr hugo strange in our au is named dr dissident) :-) ill probably make proper refs for them when im able and design a few more rogues hehe

RED HOOD: NEON ELEGY

(raygun learned how tumblr reblog formatting works edition)

JASON TODD: A REVENANT LEFT UNAVENGED

SCARLET: A BROKEN DOLL

CRAZY ED: A MASTER OF RIDDLES

CASSANDRA CAIN: A WARRIOR ALONE

MAGPIE AND ZEBRA MAN: A CRIME DUCHESS AND HER THRALL

TWO-FACE: A MAN DIVIDED

DEATHSTROKE, AN ASSASSIN CONSTRAINED

RAS AL GHUL, AN EMISSARY

El Flamingo

some miscellaneous thumbnails:

some cover drafts:

a villain:

and a resolution.

So I was at the bookstore today and I found these very cool "the Joker" notebooks, including Harley Quinn :

And then there was this :

I know the notebook theme is "The Joker" but c'mon now.. Poor Two Face..

Bonus:

lol! This classic Golden Age Batman panel has lived rent free in my head for years!

From Batman (1940) #1 by Bill Finger & Bob Kane.

Injustice in the Justice System: The Ethical Plight of Arkham Asylum

It is a common saying within Gotham City that you can set your watch off of Arkham Asylum’s regular breakouts.

Founded by Dr. Amadeus Arkham well over a century ago, this government-funded penitentiary has morphed from a well-meaning mental hospital to quite literally a house of horrors. Sanctioned as an asylum for the criminally insane in 19XX, Arkham Asylum has been affected by corruption and fraud every year since its founding - a reality only exacerbated by the breakout rates that have spiked by almost 46% annually since the Joker’s posting as a publicly known terrorist.

Anybody who lives in Gotham has been affected by the persistent breakouts plaguing the asylum. It’s been the Riddler’s bombings of the subway system. It was the threat of Gotham’s water supply being polluted by Joker toxin (only narrowly avoided by vigilante Batman’s interceptions). It was literally any Halloween these past few years. Take your pick.

Arkham Asylum is wholly an ethical nightmare. Its moral values and code of conduct have completely warped since its founding, and a lack of accountability has transformed it into an unethical hovel for anybody incarcerated there. Corruption runs rampant in the system. Any bribe of any size can be weaponised, and prisoners can do anything within and including escaping.

The poor legislation and the lack of accountability likens Arkham to the El Salvador gang jails. Both of them have death rates in the hundreds, and both do not receive programs preparing inmates for reinsertion into society. The two of them have inmates who are rarely - if ever - allowed outside.

These so called ‘reformatory’ institutions are unethical, unlivable hovels for anybody incarcerated. The abusive living situations make it a wonder any of Arkham’s convicts ever even consider choosing to stay within the prison walls.

Speaking of Arkham being an unliveable hovel - asylums throughout America have progressively gone out of style within the last forty years. However, Gotham is a city that leans more towards traditionalism - a view paired with and reflected throughout the city’s beautiful architecture and the scarcity of new bills, legislations and laws that are passed as a result of the city stagnating and being unwilling to create change.

This languishing, this lack of desire for movement and progress, is part of the systematic problems that threaten to topple Arkham. It is part of why it is inhumane.

Asylums have been going out of style for a reason - both sides of the system suffer. There is a relatively low rate of recovery from patients in asylums who are mentally unwell - even lower in Gotham City. Caregivers are pessimistic about their future outlooks because of the low success rates, feeding back into the cycle with no positive yield. This vicious pattern makes it nigh-impossible for anyone within the system to get any sort of fulfilment from it.

Although Arkham is officially a psychiatric ward, it houses patients who are arguably sane and yet are sentenced to life with the mentally unwell. Take Adam Bomb for example (article linked). Convicted of terrorism after trying to blow up the city, Bomb worked with criminally insane terrorist Firefly and thus was convicted of insanity beside him despite all claims that he was not mentally unstable.

It could be argued that these inhabitants aren’t perfectly sane, but an overwhelming amount of evidence from court records show otherwise. XX% of convicts in Arkham were allegedly intended to go to Blackgate Penitentiary, but couldn’t as a result of the overcrowding in the system. This whopping XX% percent of inmates, forced to live in padded cells and treated as less than human because of an insanity that they don’t have, live in an oppressive scheme which in turn makes it more difficult for actually unwell prisoners to receive the help they require. Furthermore, inmates who are criminally insane likewise suffer - the heightened risk of assault, dangerous gangs, and trauma in result of the organised crime fester a wholly unhealthy environment for the patients in the system who are meant to be there.

This misconduct is really highlighted in 20XX’s horrifically dubbed “Haunted House” breakout, where seven inmates (both sane and insane) attempted an escape. One of their psychiatric patients (a Ms. A. Smith) was killed in the panic after experiencing a psychotic break and subsequently attacking one of her fellow escapees after watching one of the sane male inmates assault a staff member.

The tragic events that transpired in the “Haunted House” jailbreak underline the desperation of reform required within our justice system. It is crucial that we address these issues within and around Arkham, as its current state has crossed lines and boundaries that even the worst cities throughout the globe have not passed.

Now, after considering these insurmountable problems, you may be wondering.

How is Arkham Asylum still standing?

Surely, some uncorrupted Gotham official is good, right? They would have seen the corruption, the abuse, the inhumane condition. Surely, somebody would have pushed for a change.

Well - you aren’t wrong. Arkham has been the focus of almost 15% of bills petitioned within Gotham City for eight years.

But there are good reasons why it is still functioning. Why nine out of ten of these petitions are rejected, despite the obvious poison to our society that it provides.

Arkham Asylum was made by a key founder of some of Gotham’s most foundational rules and regulations, Stuart Gordon. Nevada and Maine are the only other states to decriminalise sex work - but Gotham City, too, has special permissions under the state of New Jersey to abolish the law as a result of his work. Furthermore, Gordon pushed for Gotham to be one of the first cities (although highly debated and largely criticised at the time) to allow equal purchase and selling of property by minority groups within Gotham. Gordon’s lasting contributions to New Jersey’s sociopolitical landscape are likely partially why Arkham‘s presence continues to endure despite its increasingly intrusive existence in our modern society.

Arkham Asylum stands as a symbol of justice. Despite the rampant violence and a severe lack of accountability within its system, it is the most famous (and infamous) jail this side of America. When you look any closer at the system, its flaws and corruption reveal themselves to you in a disturbingly clear fashion. Yet when we think of the law, when we consider the justice system, Arkham is always the first to mind, given its wide discussion by people around the globe.

Arkham Asylum was a lot of money. A lot of money. For the first fifteen years of its construction, Gotham government’s annual transparency records reveal Arkham Asylum taking almost 40% of the budget allocated to police and law enforcement in its construction time. This rampant fund theft and poor budget of the government, exacerbated by the relative spike in crime rate during the years of its building, proves just how long they intend Arkham to stand. Why would the government put so much money into something that they didn’t intend to run in the long term?

These factors have made our authorities comfortable. Unaccountable. Stagnant. The level of ease that Gotham’s government holds about jailbreaks trickles down to regular citizens. They face no consequences from us as a result of our being excessively comfortable with the crime they permit.

If nothing is to change, we have a clear view on the future based on the long history we have with Arkham in the past. Gotham City’s complacency allows corruption to fester, and it leaves us citizens complicit in the tragedy of crime and disaster.

It is not too late to change course.

If we don’t stop this fraudulence now, it will be too late to change course.

The first step to change within others - our society - is change within ourselves and our standards. We must remind ourselves that this crime is not normal. Remind ourselves that we should not be comfortable. The disasters, the rampant crime and the rotating door of terrorists coming and going from Arkham is not something to be nonchalant about. We have to teach our children that the standards that Gotham’s bureaucracy sets for us isn’t acceptable, and that they should not be growing up with fear in their hearts and emergency exits in their minds.

Furthermore, it is imperative that we insist on more from our higher-ups. Allowing them to continue shrugging their shoulders and telling us that the establishment cannot be changed is only going to worsen the state of our city and justice system to the point of no return. We need to pressure new laws from them, so we can uproot the corruption that they have allowed to fester in our city for decades. We must demand new regimens for jails in order for us to be able to transfer inmates out of overstuffed systems and give resources to those who need it most.

Most importantly, we have to demand better, moral legislation. Regulations that seperate the harmless from the terrorists, and incite prisoners to remain in a prison that will not be cruel to them at every waking moment.

One voice can only do so much.

Many voices, speaking as a part of an undivided unit desiring wholly for change - that will get the government’s attention. That will make them feel the same discomfort we have been experiencing our whole lives. That will lead them to forging new change within this stagnant society, one which will better both the lives of AA’’s inhabitants and those of Gotham City.

Sign this petition, and stand with me. Stand with all of us who are appealing for a difference within a society. Help us create change that will last for generations.

-Jeffrey Anderson

Gotham City's Reliance on Playboy-Billionaire Bruce Wayne

Playboy, billionaire, philanthropist. Bruce Wayne - or Brucie, as those who read the Gotham Gazette may know him by - is a common sight in Gotham newspapers. For good or for bad, he will be there. Some recent headlines (pictures attached) that Wayne has found himself at the forefront of would be a shock if it were anybody else, but since it’s Gotham City’s favourite wealthman, nobody bats an eye.

See this? Apparently - according to search statistics from Gotham City - this charity is nothing to applaud. 

Here in Gotham, I’ve noticed we seem to have this thing about normalizing things that would be otherwise insane in other places - of course, I can’t speak without being a hypocrite. As a Gothamite myself, it’s much too frequently that I find myself irritated instead of horrified that there’s been an explosion on a subway line, exasperated instead of aghast that man-bats are delaying the buses. But I digress.

In the first newspaper headline I’ve included, we can see Wayne’s incredibly generous donation to Klimate and Kryptonite, a charity dedicated to areas affected ecologically by aliens or other space matter. Everywhere else - anyone else - this 1.5 million donation would have caused a ripple of turning heads and discussion about change. But on that Sunday? Nothing. Nada. Bruce Wayne’s support of our city’s ecosystem is deep-seated - and far too little talked about. If you’ve ever been to a hospital here in Gotham (I’m assuming you have, we have the highest mugging rates in the USA) you’d notice that there is a distinctive ‘W’ logo on almost every piece of medical equipment in the hospital. Yep, that’s him again. Wayne Biotech plays a fairly large piece in supplying medical equipment at prices cheaper than most competitors - because as the man said himself, ‘healthcare should be affordable if not free’. 

Take a step back for a second and picture Gotham without Bruce Wayne. Medical prices would be sky-high; innocent citizens would be in crippling debt over minor accidents, unable to leave poverty. The waterways and skies would be clogged with even more trash than there already is. Buildings destroyed by terrorists like the Joker would take at least three times as long to rebuild.

This leads me to my next point. Why are our actual city officials not doing anything?

Yeah, you already know the answer. Corruption. 

In the last three years, six highly-ranking members of either the GCPD or the city government were fined or arrested for misuse of funds, money laundering or taking bribes. The rampant fraud that is occurring among the people we are meant to trust with our city creates a power vacuum that is only filled by crime. Yes, the Wayne Foundation (and Wayne’s parents’ charities, the Thomas and Martha Wayne Foundation respectively) are doing tremendous amounts of work to help provide free healthcare and shelter while simultaneously countering social issues. It’s good, of course, but doesn’t anybody get the feeling that maybe our government-sanctioned officials should be the ones fixing these problems, not charities?

Crime is running rampant, and our political leaders are too lazy and too compliant to respond.

We need to make a push for change. Protest (in ways that are helpful, not harmful - we don’t need another supervillain running around Gotham trying to ‘help’) for our rights to have honest authorities. Talk about the change you want to see in our city, and spread the word. We are no longer standing by for lazy and corrupt government officials to do what they want with Gotham. We can no longer stay stagnant.

-Jeffrey Anderson

Please Let Me Keep Him

Warning! This isn’t really lore accurate, this is just what I wanted to see from the Arkham Knight. So I wrote it! There is an OC in here, their name is King. The only thing you need to know is they work for Bruce and used to be Jason’s friend.

It’s been two years since Jason died, the truth of his unfortunate demise only now coming to light as Bruce traveled through his worst nightmare of a night. If he really sat down and thought about it, Bruce only wanted to see his son again. One more time. Bruce Wayne never sat down though, his anger keeping him afloat while one thought in the back of his mind burned him through and through, “please let me see him again.”

Bruce did his best to focus on his footsteps, the loud clanging of metal on metal, echoing through the flashing halls to bring an even sharper ring to his ears. The red lights and fizzling circuits; it was all enough to distract anyone else.

Not Bruce Wayne.

His head was echoing with horrific laughter, screams of those he barely recognized. Every reflection he caught of himself reminded him that he was going paler than paper, his eyes a horrific green that he only saw in his worst nightmares. The screams would get louder; and he fought the urge to snap the next person he saw’s neck. The voices built to a high, until one scream cut above the rest. A shrill, broken sob, screaming for mercy, screaming for someone to save them - for Batman to save them.

He stopped. He blinked away tears he didn’t even know he could shred, and gave a harsh breath. For so long he had maintained his dark and brooding persona and it was starting to crack, making him wonder whether or not he had been lying to himself for years - whether or not this was the true Bruce. He shook his head, cursing himself for letting such thoughts distract him. The subtle vibration of his gauntlet buzzed with a red light, catching his attention. He slowly raised his arm, preparing himself for the stone facade he once again had to maintain. He clicked a button.

His screen flittered to life, revealing a young adult sitting in front of the batcomputer. Soft freckles on a sharp face with white patches of skin, as well as their heavy bags, illuminated by the light. “Hey, Bruce.”

“Ulysses.”

“Doing good, thanks for asking. You?”

He didn’t even blink. “Why are you in the Batcave? It’s too dangerous.”

Their dark curls fell from their bun as they unpinned it, covering their shaves on the side of their head; painfully reminding Bruce of the bat symbol shaved in, courtesy of Dick. “Nightwing reached out. Shit, Bruce, why didn’t you let us know?”

This time, he did blink. “Too dangerous. You’re too… ”

“Don’t even try to say I’m too young,” they sighed. “At the very least, Damian deserves to know. Do you know how many times Dick thought you had died in the last twelve hours?” His only response was a grunt, and he continued to move forward down the hall. “Whatever. I’m helping you. Do you want info or not?”

“What do you have?”

King rolled their eyes. “Of course, my pleasure. Two signatures up ahead, behind the chonky door.”

“Please do not say ‘chonky’ on comms, King.” Dick’s voice cut in.

“One is definitely unconscious,” they continued, “One… huh. Bats, I’ve never seen a system so close to yours, they have all of Gotham marked down in the same way the computer mark's things. The Arkham Knight definitely knows you, like they said. I’ve also locked onto some of the Arkham Knight’s voice patterns.”

“How?” Dick asked, “Our systems couldn’t even pick it up. Taj must be one damn genius.”

They hummed, then hesitated. “It’ll take me a minute to hack it, also, I don’t think you’ll like who’s voice it matches.”

“Who?” Batman asked, more in the form of a demand.

“Well, I have three candidates, but… I’m sorry, are we not gonna talk about how you locked up Tim? Isn’t that the point of a sidekick, to help? I mean, shit, Bruce. He’s gonna be crying about it for weeks.”

Bruce contemplated telling them to refrain from unnecessary talk on comms, but refrained to keep them in a decent mood. Bruce stopped in front of the metal door, reaching for the lever, but stopped when the red lights threatened to reveal his position if he pulled on a locked door. “King,” he started. The door’s light suddenly turned green and Bruce could almost hear King’s smirk. Bruce turned off the screen and stared at his hand. He only thought to himself for a moment, deciding that there was no more time for unspoken words or games, only justice. He yanked the lever down, moving to stand in the middle of the door frame as it slowly opened, the light from the various devices pouring in.

“More red lights. What a shocker,” King mumbled.

Bruce took in the room before him, only managing to register that it was a room before running to a tied up Jim. He went through his mental checklist in less than a second; he’s breathing, he looks to be unharmed, he sensed no danger around him, only the prickling sense of paranoia he always carried with him. With no more than a grunt, he moved to untie Jim.

“Room scanned. Approaching from behind,” King warned in a flat voice.

A different voice cut in, “Turn. Around,” the voice said, debilitatingly slow. The same voice that managed to irk Bruce everytime he had heard it, the voice that rang a loud warning in Bruce’s mind; “I know them.” The same voice he had been unconsciously chasing the entire night. Bruce slowly did as he was told, turning face to face with the Arkham Knight, a gun pointed at him, his white eyes glowed harshly against his mask.

“Who are you,” Bruce almost growled.

The Arkham Knight didn’t shift his posture, not even moving to straighten his neck. He only said, “You have no idea…”, trailing off as he moved his free hand to the side of his helmet, slowly pushing it up, and as he finished his sentence, “Do you, Bruce,” his voice modifier finally let the Knight’s real voice slip through, young, dark, and crisp.

Bruce stared, eyes widened and lips slightly parted, feeling his heart spike, drop, and break in the same motion. His breath held, he only stared, feeling the Joker’s ringing laughter split through his head. “Jason,” he almost stuttered, “But… you’re dead.” His mind tried so hard to comprehend what was in front of him. Jason’s eyes, once full of a fire he could never describe, now haunted him, looking empty and tired. His whole face had hardened, scars covering his entire face. Bruce’s first instinct was to tell him he looks fine, that he is safe and whole and how happy he was to finally see him; but the melded skin on his face, the one in the shape of a certain letter. Oh, how it stood out, swallowing his vision whole, the mark of the Joker.

The Jokers laugh cut in once again. “Let’s not fall out here, Bats! I might have told you a teeny, tiny lie…” Bruce’s mind was sharply telling him to shut up, but he appeared from behind Jason’s large form, moving in front of him. “But c’mon, look at the boy,” he exclaimed while ducking underneath Jason’s outstretched arm while he circled Bruce. “You did good. We did good! You should be proud,” he smiled the same smile that crawled around in his brain at night. Bruce was practically scratching at the walls of his mind, pleading for Joker to get away from him, to leave Jason alone.

“What’s the matter,” Jason taunted, “Lost for words? I expected more… I’m hurt.”

“Holy fuck.” King murmered, an octive so low their words could hardly be comprehended.

Bruce didn’t know what to say. “Joker sent me the film… I,” he fought a voice crack, “I saw him kill you.”

Jason’s nose flared, “Don’t you dare lie to me,” he shouted, moving forward and emphasizing his threat with a pointed movement of his gun. “How long did you wait before replacing me? A month?”

“No…” Bruce whispered.

Jason angrily persisted, ignoring Bruce’s denial, “A week? I trusted you… and you left me to die!”

“Jason… no,” Bruce started.

“You always told me, Bruce. Focus on what I want to achieve and it’ll happen. Well, you know what I want now, huh,” He moved forward. “I want you dead.” He shoved his gun underneath Bruce’s chin. Bruce reacted before he could think, slapping away his gun and slamming his head into Jason’s, followed by a mechanical hiss. Jason stumbled back for only a moment, before he reached into his holster to take out two more refined firearms. He angrily shot forward before regaining his surroundings. Bruce was gone. He breathed hard, anger seeping into every muscle of his body. “You can’t hide from me,” he shouted. “I will hunt you down!” The gun in his right hand whirred, elongating to form what seemed to be the upper receiver of a sniper rifle, his other gun forming into a long barrel and snapped onto the other piece with ease.

“Holy shit,” Dick breathed over comms, “He’s got two pistols that can turn into a sniper?”

“Noticed,” Bruce grunted, looking over from his new hiding spot. Jason looked around for a moment, a noticeable scowl forming onto his face before he ripped off the outer visor and once again covered his face, this time the helmet forming the faint shape of a skull. He grappled away, his form exactly like Bruce’s, just the way he taught him.

Neither of the three knew what to say, not knowing how to even comprehend such a horrid situation. None of them knew how to begin to address it, to question how he might had been alive. A beat of silence offered no moment of clarity or explanation. “So,” King started, offering some ease to the air, “Jason’s alive and hates you. Fantastic. He’s taken a sniping position up on that ledge. His guns are good, really good. I’d say you have four shots before it kills you.”

“Four?”

“Yes, Gray, four.” They turned their attention back to Bruce, fingers lightly tapping over a keyboard, “I’ve highlighted all suitable hiding spots and ledges, they’ll be your best shot at Jason.” Bruce grunted, slowly moving over and peaking out of his hiding spot. “Also,” King started again, “I’m going to look at the photage Joker sent to us. I never ran it through a check before because… in any case, I’ll have that soon.” Bruce didn’t get to reply because in a split second, he ducked back under, a shot whizzing above his head.

“Aww, what’s the matter? Can’t look me in the eyes?” Jason smirked to himself before shouting, “Come on!”

“Your goal is to not get shot at, Bruce.”

“Bruce, let me take it from here,” Dick grumbled. “Look a little behind you, to your left.” Bruce did so, eyeing a subtle ledge out of Jason’s sight. Without another word, he grappled onto it. “If you can get down to the platform by gliding when he even glances away, take the chance.”

Bruce eyed Jason for a long time, patiently playing the waiting game that he had taught Jason so, so long ago. A memory flitted to life. His bright eyes pierced his mind, his devious smile as he sat and watched Bruce stare right back at him. Jason managed three hours before finally becoming restless; his mood brightening when Bruce took him to get ice cream afterwards. Bruce’s eyes almost clouded with tears, so he sank back into his emotionless front.

Just like two years before, Jason grew tired easily, his eyes flickered in another direction and Bruce took the opportunity. He had no time to glide; he fell down, silencing his landing when his cape caught the air.

“Nice,” Dick commented. “All you have to do is make a run for it, get underneath him, grapple up, and take him down.”

“You sound too sure,” King added.

All three of them didn’t say anything afterwards, a silent acknowledgement that Jason was too tough to go down with one on-the-fly plan, but Bruce sprinted forward all the same. Staying directly out of his sight, he slid under his position and grappled up to the ledge he stood on. Bruce easily caught him by surprise, grasping the barrel of his gun with one hand and his forearm in another, he moved in a blur. “Jason,” his voice stern and cold, “I can help you!”

Jason grunted from the struggle, “There’s no…” another grunt, “Helping me!” He fired off a shot, causing Bruce to let go while Jason fell below, setting off a smoke bomb.

“King!”

“Getting a read, Bats.” King clicked a few times while Bruce’s vision quickly recovered. “He’s gone. On the other side of that wall.”

“How do we get behind it, sis?”

As if Dick had timed it perfectly, the wall suddenly flew up, revealing a longer sector of the room, and a shot flew past Bruce. He quickly fell, rolling to a stop, and moved behind a wall. He noticed drones; two of them, and Jason perched on another ledge. Bruce already knew what to do, he synced his bracer to his remote hacking device and scanned.

“I got it. Blinding it now.” King said.

Jason cursed under his breath, “You’re not the only one with sidekicks, Batman!” The drone quickly recovered and shot at Bruce, taking him by suprise. He easily rolled out of the way, barely dodging another shot from Jason as he ran to find cover. He silently hoped King would read his mind with both drones now shooting at him, feeling the painful shock of the bullets bouncing off his armor. His blood spiked, he was panicking. Bruce Wayne was panicking. All the thoughts of wanting to save Jason and save Gotham at the same time sent shockwaves throughout his entire body. He continued to run, dodge, roll, anything he could do to stay a step ahead of a swift death. He almost took another shot from Jason when King finally managed to regain the controls of the drones, silencing them. Bruce tried to calm his own heart rate, his own composure was slowly crumbling away. He had no time, no breath, no thoughts. He stayed under his newfound cover of a concrete blockade.

“Do you even know what he did to me?” Another shot whizzed above Bruce’s head. “The games he used to play? This is mercy compared to what he put me through.”

Bruce did his best to ignore Jason as he once again pondered his surrondings and saw the highlighted grates. Grates meant good cover, good cover meant an easy route to get to Jason. Good, he was thinking clearly again. “King, can you buy me any time?” King responded with something about how they practically owned time, he didn’t listen, and moved the drone to a shooting position. Jason was quicker, he shot at the drone before it fired, releasing another shot at the last drone to send it tumbling to the ground with a loud snap. Jason was fast, much faster than either of the three remembered, but Bruce managed to use the distraction to get into the grates, crawling through the narrow vents as he tried to get the image of a broken and bloody Jason out of his mind. Once he deduced that he was in a suitable position, he silently shuffled out of the grates, taking his time to not make a single noise. He looked up, seeing the perfect window of opportunity to grapple up, bursting through the glass, and managing to land right in front of Jason. “Joker got to you! I know what it’s like!” Bruce tried, struggling to match Jason’s strength as he tried to wrestle the gun away from him. He was so much stronger than he remembered, the thought threatening to send him back to memory lane.

“Don’t pretend to understand!” Jason shouted every angry insult he could think of during the battle for the upper hand. Bruce almost let out a sob thinking about losing Jason again to the madness of his own mind, but Jason quickly managed to break an arm away in Bruce’s moment of weakness, setting off another smoke bomb that stunned Bruce, once again disapperaing.

“Dammit,” Bruce muttered, grappling off to a more clear ledge. He looked around; Jason was gone again. No taunts, his thermal scanners didn’t pick up his signature. He almost wondered how Jason could get away that quickly, but he remembered that he taught that skill to him when he was young. When he was just a boy, a boy who didn’t deserve to be thrown into a never ending war, dragged into the depths of the darkness where Batman had dwelled for years. He once again blinked, trying to settle his mind back to the situation at hand.

“Bruce, did you hear that?” Bruce said nothing, so King continued. “He’s emotional, vulnerable.” Bruce nodded in understanding. He had used vulnerability in the past, manipulating others' sorrows to get what he wanted, his reasoning always leading back to the justice of Gotham. He could do that to Jason, who was already broken and fragile. He could hurt him more, scream everything Bruce thought about himself to Jason to enrage him. He already had hundreds of plans in his head on how it could go.

But he could not bring himself to do it.

“Another plan, King. Now.”

“Shit, then,” King grumbled. “Alright, I have an idea that builds off of the last one.” Bruce listened carefully as he snuck around the various obstacles, illuminated by the soft glow of the moon as he moved through to the next sector, everything perfectly captured by the skylights. “I could hack onto his comms, connect him with you, or me. It might be enough to talk him off of the ledge.” They paused, “I have so many things I want to say to him.”

“Me too.” Dick quietly chimed in.

Bruce gave it a thought as he rolled from one position of cover to the next, searching for any signs of Jason’s whereabouts, quickly and quietly knocking out the few militia that roamed. After dragging a body to a spot out of sight, “Don’t hurt him,” Bruce said in a low whisper. Neither King or Dick spoke for a moment, taking in the idea of Batman, Bruce Wayne, showing emotion. Bruce couldn’t help it. He felt the cold facade crumble into tiny bits, slowly wearing away the more he thought about Jason.

King finally responded, “I wouldn’t dream about it, Bats,” they flatly said.

“Do it. Dick, get me Jason’s location.”

“On it.” He proudly exclaimed. His search only took a few seconds. “Uh…”

“What?” Bruce breathed out harshly.

“It says… shit! It says he’s above you!”

Bruce didn’t even register what he said as a large weight brought him face to face with the ground, a few bones popping as he went down. Jason quickly got off of him, kicking him in the same spot he had shot Bruce in that sent his vision to straight white. Blinded, he tried his best to roll over, but Jason was quicker. He straddled Bruce, one hand squeezing his neck as the other pummeled his face, angry grunts following directly after each punch. Bruce struggled weakly to force Jason’s hand off of his throat - when he suddenly stopped trying. He didn’t know what was happening to him, he felt as if he almost deserved the pain. He wanted to shoulder all of Jason’s pain. He would rather take thrice the suffering Joker brought upon him then see Jason like this, fist beating the near life out of him, tears building up in his eyes. He heard faint calls of his name over the comms, no doubt Dick trying to bring him back from the corners of his mind, but he didn’t care. It was almost as though this was Bruce’s version of peace, as if he didn’t deserve any better.

“Jason?” A clear voice cut into Jason’s helmet, stopping his punch in mid-air. He frantically looked behind him, then around him. He stood off of Bruce, grabbing his sniper and aiming it wildly around the place.

“Who fucking said that,” Jason shouted with a newfound, deeper anger.

“Do you remember me?” King asked, voice weak.

Jason stumbled backwards slightly, giving Bruce enough time to recover, whatever that meant in his condition. He tried his best to sit up, gripping his neck in pain. Jason trained his gun on Bruce’s movement, but King cut in again. “It’s King, Jay. It’s your friend. Do you remember me?”

“Kingsley?” His gun drooped downwards, staring off into space as Bruce got up, still holding his side and wipping away the blood oozing down his lips. Jason almost seemed in a frantic daze, “What are you doing… where are you? Are you safe?”

Bruce fought through the ringing in his ears and his body’s pleas to stay down, somehow managing to stand up. As if Bruce managed to get a grip on Batman’s persona once more, he shot forward, sweeping Jason off his legs with a swift kick, and grappled away to a safer position with the distraction. He heard Jason roar with anger as he fell out of sight. “King, you’re working with him!” Jason’s visor once again lit up, searching for Bruce with a new ferocity. “You traitor! You were supposed to be my friend!”

“I am your friend, Jay, but this? This is all wrong. You’ve gotta stop.”

“Stop?” He was practically screaming at this point. “How long was it before he stopped looking for me? How long before he gave up on me!”

“He never gave up on you. It took two years, Jay. We convinced him to give up the search, but never on you. He was starving himself, he never slept…”

“No! Stop lying to me!” He shot in no paticular direction. “I can still hear him! He is still in my head, he’s laughing and it’s all his fault! Joker ruined me to spite you, Bruce!”

“Jay, I’m so sorry.” Dick cut in.

“And you! I was just your fucking replacement! Could never live up to the brilliant Dick Grayson’s legacy! Always in your damn shadow!”

Jason continued to shout into his visor, when a message flicked on Bruce’s own screen.

You’re connected.

His breath was once again caught in his throat. He tried to breathe out slowly, thinking about the words he would say to Jason. He thought about begging for him to forgive him, to tell him that he was all that gave him hope and laughter, the small moments with him gave him such a calm and happy demenor. Like he himself, Bruce Wayne, was happy. He couldn’t stand another minute reliving the moment where all of his joy had been stripped away for those long, long two years, the very second he had died. He gulped and cleared his throat. “Jay?”

Jason stopped shouting, his face flickered in confusion, then rage. “Where are you, you fucking bastard! Come out here! I promise I’ll make you suffer,” His voice ended in a growl.

“Do you remember what we did for your thirteenth birthday?” Jason stopped every movement in its tracks, Bruce continued to peer out from behind the railing he was hiding behind. “I took you to a baseball game, do you remember that? You went through a nine month long baseball phase, we were always playing catch instead of training. You almost wanted to become a baseball star instead of Robin…”

Jason’s angry scream cut through the air. “Don’t call me that! That’s not who I fucking am anymore!” He flailed around, aiming for anything in sight.

“Do you remember the time I let you drive the batmobile and you almost crashed it into the river? You wouldn’t stop telling King and Dick the story for weeks.”

“Shut it and come out and fight, old man!”

Bruce exhaled a long held breath, moving to come out from his hiding spot. Jason immedaitely trained his gun on Bruce, his hands in the air and slowly moving towards him. “Jason,” he started, “I just want to tell you the things I wanted to say when you went missing.”

Jason gave a dry and sadistic laugh, not moving his gun. “What? Finally gonna tell me that you wanted me to suffer? That I was a sacrifice?” Jason shot at Bruce, and he let it hit, chipping into his armor that covered his shoulder. Bruce didn’t even flinch as he continued to move towards Jason. “The Joker made me hate you, and you fucking let him, Bruce!” His voice was cracking.

The walls continued to pick, pick, pick down.

Bruce continued, almost unphased by his words. “I want to tell you that you’re all that brought me joy for so long.” Bruce took a step forward, Jason taking one back and firing another shot that ricocheted off his stomach, the two of them locked in something of a step off. “I want you to know that I am shattered because of what happened. I tried so hard just to protect you but I failed.” Jason fired off another shot, this time hitting him right on his bat symbol. “I can only think about all the times I swore that it would be okay. I’m nothing but a liar.”

“Stop!” His voice broke, “Stop talking to me!” He threw down his gun and sprinted towards Bruce, tackling him.

That was it. The walls were down, emotions flooding his mind as every thought hit him at once. He had just heard Jason, who he truly admired for his strength and endurance, scream at him with all his willpower to be quiet. When his voice cracked in anguish, Bruce felt his heart split in two, but he kept going. He stood up, weakly blocking Jason’s half hearted punches. “I know I put you through a nightmare,” Jason swung again, a cry scratching to rip out of his throat. Bruce quickly dodged and pushed Jason away. “I caused you so much pain.” Jason tried once again, giving the loosest punch of the night. Bruce moved to the side, only slightly, and gripped Jason by the shoulders before moving his hands to wrap around his head. “I took you for granted. I’m so sorry, Jason.”

“You did this to me!” Jason flailed against him, hitting him with almost no force. Bruce ripped off his visor and aggressively cupped his face, forcing Jason to look at him.

“I love you, Jason.”

Jason scoffed, tears rolling down his cheeks. He tried his best to form a coherent sentence, his face flashing from anger to sadness over and over again until he finally broke down in a sob, his knees giving out. Bruce was there to catch him, bringing him into a tight embrace as he felt his own tears escape, slowly dripping onto his mask.

“You left me to rot in that abandoned wing of Arkham for over a year! With him!” His fingers dug into Bruce’s armor with enough strength to leave small indentments as he buried his face in Bruce’s chest.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Bruce shushed as he lazily combed over Jason’s unkempt hair.

“You left me. I always feared you would.” His voice was now strained, soft and broken.

“Jason, I’m here now. I’m never letting you go again.”

Jason seemingly nodded against his chest, but he didn’t know why. Jason just knew that he had finally felt comfort in Bruce again, the flame of anger subsiding for only this moment. “I thought you’d finally be the dad I’ve been wanting.” Jason almost scoffed to himself, but he couldn’t over his tears. “I was young and dumb. Maybe I’m still dumb for thinking that.”

Bruce shook his head, a soft smile gracing his lips. “I’d be a lucky man to have you as a son.”

Jason finally huffed out a happy sigh, but it soon faded away. “I can’t forgive you, Bruce.”

“I know,” he said softly.

“Can we try again anyways?”

Bruce didn’t verbally respond, only tucked him in even tighter. Jason smiled against his chest, the soft beat of his heart through his layered armor lulled away the voices in his head that barraged him for not getting his revenge. He didn’t care. He never knew this was the closure he needed.

Bruce knew it would be a long road to recovery for Jason, for them. He expected the screams, the yelling, the punching. He expected Jason to let his anger out on him every day until he wore himself out. He knew how long it would take Jason to forgive him, if he even could, and yet he could only mumble the same prayer over and over again as he clutched Jason tight.

Please let me keep my son this time.

SAY IT AGAIN PLEASE

Okay guys…

I loved the new episode to death. I’ve watched it 3 times already. And…

As much I love Jeremiah, and I do a lot…

It literally triggers me everytime he talks bad about Jerome. It’s like, “Excuse me sir, you just got here! Jerome’s been here since the first season. I’ve only just started warming up to you. Stay in your place Jeremiah!” Also, he’s acting like he has something to prove. Bro, you can keep doing what you’re doing but, don’t do it in the name of ‘being better than Jerome.’ Because that’s a lost cause. You will never be better than Jerome. Do your own thing Jeremiah!

Plus, you should be grateful! Jerome turned you from a wimp hiding in an underground bunker to a super cool villian that everyone’s afraid of. But then, he goes and says that Jerome’s insanity gas didn’t really do anything?! The fact that you think that proves that it did! And even if you were already insane before the gas, the gas sure did bring the insanity to the surface. I mean, it surely didn’t do nothing!

In conclusion, I love the new episode, I love how everything is playing out. And I love Jeremiah, but Jerome will always hold a special place in my heart and I will not just sit and let Jeremiah badmouth Jerome like he does. Because who’s the boss?

Anyway I would love to say that I love the Valeska twins equally, but I don’t. I love Jerome to the highest extent.

But still, no matter who you love more, we can all agree that Cameron Monaghan is the best right?

Please tell me someone agrees because I feel like I’m the only one.

That’s all folks!

Friendly reminder that I was so rudely reminded of: In the comics (some versions) the Joker is related to Bruce. That put a whole new definition of family problems. *Cough *Cough. Jason, Joker Junior, literally any of the Vigilantes.

Have a good day!!

NOT HATING JUST ASKING

Why do people like Batjokes like genuinely I do not understand can someone explain why they like the ship? Like "The Joker killed my son AND keeps attempting to kill my friends and family so I think I should date him." It makes NO sense!

I new already but yes that is the reason that Batman did not kill the Joker because it would cause a whole war thing.

(I edited my response thanks to someone comment)

i think the joker would have loved sloppy steaks

Assorted batman doodles

MAKE ME CHOOSE: @sofuckingchuffed asked ⤖ DC + FAVORITE VILLAIN 🌹

See, I’m not a monster. I’m just ahead of the curve.

Batman (1966), "The Joker Goes to School"

Batman (1966), "Surf's Up! Joker's Under!"

Dick: You asked me about my new lover, Bruce

Bruce: *not looking up from Batcomputer* And who is that?

Dick: *pointing at a wanted poster with Deathstroke*

Bruce: Wilson? Are you serious, Dick? I suppose we made it clear after your relationship with Jason, didn't we? You should keep away from psychopathic killers

Tim: *peeking up from the book* Isn't it a family trait?

Bruce Wayne, just out of work and ready to go home to his kids and butler, on the verge of tears: Look, if I give 500 dollars right now, can I go home

Joker, seeing Bruce actively holding back tears: You okay man

Bruce, actively holding back tears: not really, no

~10 minutes later~

Bruce, sobbing: a-and he won't talk to me any more and I don't know why. I'm a terrible father and my children all hate me.

Joker, patting him on the back: I'm sure the love you, buddy

Bruce, flipping through pictures of his kids and showing them to Joker: *sobs*

Hello Tumblr, it's been a while haha. Take this thing I did a few days ago

The Scarred - Chapter 12 🩸

Masterlist

Summary - Penelope Miller works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by trauma and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

“Penelope…” Her name invaded her sleep, mingling with her dream in a way that didn’t make sense. “Penelope?” It continued. “Penelope!” Her head began to stir. 

“Penelope!” She jolted awake to the sight of Liam standing over her, shaking her with what seemed to be a panicked expression. “Oi, ye need to wake up, we need to leave!” He urged, grabbing her arm and practically yanking her up out of bed. She shook her head, confused about whether or not she was still dreaming as he pulled her towards the front door. 

“Liam! Liam, what’s going on?” She tried to fight back, but he wouldn’t budge. 

“I’ll explain in the car, alright? Get yer shoes on!” 

She did as he said, slipping on a pair of canvas shoes as the sound of sirens wailing in the distance finally caught up to her, Liam cautiously keeping watch from the window. When she stood up, he snatched her again and they bolted out of the apartment, making their way to the back staircase opposite of how they would usually come home. 

Penelope struggled to keep up with him - especially as they sped down the stairs - and worried she was going to fall flat on her already scarred face. 

My face! The realization hit her. She didn’t have her bandages anymore. She was bare. The cool breeze felt foreign to her, but it was relieving at the same time. 

As she thought to herself, mindlessly following wherever Liam dragged her to, she caught the sight of a familiar van and her face contorted into confusion as the door slid open and she was pushed inside. Liam followed in directly behind her and pulled the door shut, tires burning out as they sped away from the sirens that quickly grew louder. 

The van was notably more crowded. Four men tucked away in the back, one where Liam and herself sat, and two in the front. All armed and on alert. 

“Liam, what’s going on?” Penelope asked, everything catching up to her at once. Her breathing quickened as she tried to swallow the growing familiar sense of impending doom, heart beginning to beat irregularly. He finally turned to her. 

“Someone snitched.” He answered simply, but it only raised more questions. 

“Snitched -?” She fell against Liam who caught her with ease as the van dramatically swerved. 

“Aye. Yer not safe there anymore, Penny. I’m sorry.” He spoke sympathetically, keeping her close to him as they continued to be jostled around. 

“Why wouldn’t I be safe there, who would snitch?” She urged, but Liam just shook his head and she kept quiet to her thoughts. The driver eventually became more controlled with his movements, everyone releasing a collective sigh of relief once the sirens eventually silenced. 

The van rolled to a stop and everyone hopped out, Liam taking his time with Penelope who held onto him as if her life depended on it. Surrounded by the other men, he led them into a different abandoned warehouse, though more polished than the one she was in before. The stairs seemed endless as Penelope’s heart raced, in her ears.

The climb inevitably ended and they entered a medium-sized room, darker as curtains were closed to block out the daylight. Men moved about with a purpose, some carrying heavier objects and rearranging, others hunched over a table where papers were scattered. 

But what really caught her attention was the familiar purple coat that joined the men at the table. 

“J…?” 

His gaze immediately made its way to where they stood, eyeing between the two of them causing Liam to step away. He approached her with an exaggerated swagger, but his eyes were sharper, more calculating than usual as he scanned her form. 

“Well, look who made it in one piece.” He grumbled to himself. His gaze then flickered over to Liam. “Y’know, I was starting to think we had a problem.” Liam wasn’t affected by the subtle threat, however, as Joker turned his attention back to Penelope. His hand gripped her jaw, turning her head every which way to check on her before letting go and patting her cheek. “Get her some clothes.” He nodded at Liam.

“Sure thing, boss.” Penelope’s eye widened, looking over at Liam.

“Boss -?” 

“Calm down, toots,” The Joker tried to console her. “He’ll explain.” He waved them off, throwing her one last look before he joined the men at the table once more. 

“Come on, now.” Liam ghosted a hand over her back, leading her out and into a separate room just down the hall. 

“Just what in the hell is going on!” Penelope snapped as soon as the door shut behind them. Liam sighed and ran a hand through his hair before searching for what she assumed were her ‘clothes’. “Liam, I swear, if you don’t fucking answer me -“

“Emma called the cops on ye.” 

Her breath caught, a sharp pang hitting her chest. 

“I told ye she couldn’t be trusted, Penny. She went snoopin’ where she shouldn’t have and found answers she didn’t like.” He finally turned to face her. “I’m sorry.” 

He watched as her eye glazed over, pain being the first thing he saw. Then it shifted into something new, something he wasn’t familiar with. He saw anger. She raised a hand, pointing at him as her lips moved to speak, but nothing came out. Her hand then moved to point at the door. “You work for him?” Penelope practically whispered. “You’ve worked with him this whole time?” She took a step towards him, breathing shaky. 

“Aye.” She chuckled dryly, turning around to pace a few steps. 

“This whole time I’ve been telling you about him, and you just played along.” She thought out to herself. 

“Penny -“

“Is anything about us real to you or was it all fake to get me here?” She turned to face him suddenly, pain returning. 

“None of this is fake fer me. What we have is real, yeah? What ye and the Joker have is real.” He cautiously walked towards her, resting his hands on her shoulders. “I was only tryin’ to protect ye. Hell, I’d still lay my life down fer ye if it came down to it.” Penelope sniffed and he reached to wipe away the tear that fell. 

“You promise?” She whispered. Liam nodded.

“Aye. I promise.” He rubbed her shoulders as she stood in thought. “How about those clothes, yeah?”

It wasn’t until then that she finally took in the room. It was smaller, seemingly a makeshift bedroom. A queen bed sat in the center. A more worn-down wardrobe sat against one of the side walls beside the bed. A single nightstand with a lamp. “What is this place?” She asked as Liam rummaged through the bottom drawers of the wardrobe. 

“The Joker’s main hideout.”

“Is this…?”

“His bedroom? Aye. If ye couldn’t tell by how horribly furnished it is.” The two of them chuckled. He then stood up, holding a black turtleneck and leggings to match. “Uh…” He sighed. “Wasn’t sure about the color.” He stated sheepishly. Penelope just shrugged. 

“Black’s my favorite, anyways.” 

“Good! I’ll leave ye to get changed then. Ye can head back to the main room when yer ready, I’ll be there.” He gave a tight-lipped smile, patting her shoulder as he passed and left. 

Once the door shut, she quickly changed, feeling gross from wearing the same thing for too long. She spotted a small mirror that hung next to the wardrobe and stood in front of it, eyeing the sleeve that was left unfilled due to her missing arm. 

Penelope looked around the room, then spotted her knives and handgun sitting on the nightstand and smiled at the sight. Before she grabbed one of the knives, she spotted an extra piece of equipment.

A harness. 

For the right thigh, three holsters for her knives. A holster for the handgun sat above them for easy access, she figured to prevent her from having to reach over to her left side.

She thought for a moment, wondering if she should try it on. Debating if this was what she truly wanted. Then she thought about what Liam said. About Emma calling the police, her apartment no longer being safe. She remembered what Joker had told her. 

“… once you go down this road, doll, there’s no turning back. Your cute little world will not be there for you anymore.”

Her hand felt the leather, caressing it with her fingertips. 

“I want you to stop pretending. I see potential. Potential that is greater than you’d ever know.”

Finally, she picked up the harness, struggling to slip on and fasten it with her one arm. She was eventually able to, tightening and fitting it where she could until it was comfortable. Grabbing the knives, she slipped them into their rightful place one by one, followed by the handgun. She then took one of the knives, carefully cutting through the fabric of her sleeve until it popped off, now leaving a hole where her shoulder was. 

She took a deep breath, walking to the door when she stopped to look at herself in the mirror once more, eyeing her exposed scars. She chewed on her cheek, swallowed anxiously, then ripped the door open and made her way back to the other room. 

Once she stepped inside, she felt eyes on her. Too many for her comfort. She stopped and looked around, finding Liam and the Joker next to each other at the same table as before. The former’s mouth was agape, in awe at the transformation while the Joker simply stared, expression unreadable. 

The other men around the table quickly followed their line of sight, each of their own expressions holding a variety of reactions. Some were the same as Liam’s, others indifferent and going back to what they were doing previously. The Joker then motioned for her to come to them with his fingers, licking at his lips as she obliged. 

“I see ya found my little gift.” He said as he eyed her up and down. 

“I did.” Penelope replied quietly, all too aware of everyone around her. “It’s nice.” She complimented with the ghost of a smile. 

“Good. It wasn’t cheap.” Liam gave him a look. 

“Ye stole it.” He jested.

“Which took effort, alright? Let’s not worry about the little details here.” He waved off Liam as Penelope giggled before re-focusing on the blueprint of Gotham City laid out below them. “Now, as I was saying before being rudely cut off -“ Penelope and Liam shared a look this time. 

She tried to disappear into the background, watching as the Joker spoke. It was the first time she’d seen him so…methodical. She had imagined chaos, shouting, maybe even madness. Instead, he seemed almost clinical in his delivery, though that unnerving smile still twisted his face.

“Here,” The Joker said, tapping the map, his voice low and raspy but commanding attention. “The main point of entry. It’s not heavily guarded, but that doesn’t mean we don’t take precautions. We’ll slip in, take what we need - and more - then leave. In and out.”

Liam nodded along, leaning over the blueprint to point out potential bottlenecks. “We should hit the power grid first, cause a blackout in the area. Maybe set off a couple a charges in the area. With the chaos around, no one will be lookin’ where we are.”

The Joker’s head tilted ever so slightly as he considered Liam’s addition, a grin spreading wider. “Now that’s what I’m lookin’ for. A little disturbance goes a long way.”

Penelope’s breath hitched. It was surreal, seeing him like this, Fully in control, directing the madness with such precision. The scars that marred his face were more pronounced under the dim lights, but it was his eyes that unnerved her the most. Hungry and sharp with intelligence.

He paused, studying Penelope like a new toy. “Got somethin’ to say, toots?” He asked, almost coaxing.

Penelope swallowed hard, her thoughts spinning as emotions piled on top of each other, fighting for attention. Excitement, adrenaline, hesitation, confusion. But her mind made its decision. “When do we start?” She asked as she looked up at him with a mischievous grin. 

Penelope’s chest tightened as she watched the men around the table nod, some of them grinning, others chuckling at her boldness. The Joker’s presence was suffocating, pulling everyone into his chaotic orbit. And here she was, standing on the edge of it, caught in his gravitational pull. “Atta girl.” 

After the meeting concluded, Penelope looked around and spotted a pile of crates by the only open window. As Liam and the Joker had their own conversation, she made her way over and climbed over a couple before sitting on top of one of them, facing the window as her legs swung over the edge. Her hand reached over to grab one of her knives, mindlessly flipping and toying with it as she thought. 

She knew Emma for nearly two years. After everything they had been through, after all she opened up to her about, after their moments of vulnerability. She betrayed her at the first sign of trouble. Just as Liam said. 

Thud!

She launched the knife into the crate in the spot beside her, digging it back out. 

Emma turned her back as if it never meant anything. 

Thud!

Penelope pulled it back out, about to throw it again. 

“Do that again and you’ll set the whole place on fire.” The Joker’s gravelly voice stopped her. 

“Really?” She asked in a minor panic.

“No.” He answered simply and she rolled her eyes with a giggle. He leaned beside her against the crates, head level with her thighs. A moment of silence passed before Penelope broke it. 

“How did Liam know it was Emma?” She asked out of the blue, staring out of the window. Joker licked at his scars. 

“Traced the call.”

“Liam told you about his suspicion about her, didn’t he?” He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head, a confirmation. “I suppose I should thank you, then.” He grumbled. 

“I don’t do ‘thank you’s.” 

“Whatever you say, Mr. J.” The two glanced at each other, the Joker humming at the new title. “What exactly is this raid for?” 

“Couple of the men found an armory. Hidden in plain sight.” 

“As if you don’t have enough guns?”

“Well, you can never have enough. The fun hasn’t even started, toots.” 

“I’m coming, right?” 

“Well, duh, I wouldn’t drag you in just to sit around. But you’re stickin’ with me.”

“No complaints from me.”

-

The low hum of the city echoed in the distance, its usual chaos muted by the weight of anticipation. Penelope adjusted her harness, her fingers tracing the edges of the throwing knives snugly fitted in their holsters. The handgun sat just below her hip, a cold but reassuring presence. It had been hours of preparation, and now, standing beside the Joker, her pulse was a steady beat of adrenaline.

Liam crouched by a power junction a few feet away, his hands working quickly to cut the wires. The other men were shadows, blending into the urban sprawl, setting up charges farther out. The Joker stood calmly, watching, a glint of madness in his eye.

Penelope, nervous but determined, stayed close to him, practically stuck to his hip. He hadn’t said much to her yet, just a smirk here and there letting her know he enjoyed the fact that she was along for the ride. She kept her breaths steady, hands relaxed but ready.

“Alright, toots,” The Joker finally muttered, not turning to her but keeping his eyes on the armory’s entrance across the street, “Stay close.”

Her throat was dry, but she nodded. “Got it.”

Liam signaled from his position, and the neighborhood plunged into darkness. The streetlights blinked out one by one, leaving the street in a quiet, electric void. A low rumble followed, one of the charges going off. Penelope’s heart jumped at the sound, though no one else flinched. It was the distraction they needed.

“Time to move.” Joker grinned, tapping her on her hip.

They moved swiftly, the Joker leading the way through the newly darkened streets, his men fanning out behind him. The armory was hidden beneath the guise of a shipping company, its mundane exterior nothing more than a front. Penelope could feel the shift in energy, the calm before the storm. She could tell this wasn’t just a random job for him. It was calculated chaos, his version of art.

At the door, one of the Joker’s men swiftly bypassed the lock, and within moments they were inside, the scent of dust, carbon and metal filling the air. Penelope stayed close to the Joker as he said, her eyes scanning the room as they made their way through the warehouse. Weapons - guns, explosives, even military-grade equipment - lined the walls.

“This is the fun part,” The Joker whispered to her, eyes gleaming as he walked by a row of semi-automatics. “You take what you want and leave nothin’ for anyone else.”

Liam started directing the men, telling them what to grab and where to stash it. Penelope stayed beside the Joker, her mind racing. This was her chance. She hadn’t fully considered what being a part of this world would mean, until now. Yet, watching the Joker in his element, there was an allure she couldn’t deny.

As the men continued looting, a sudden clatter echoed from somewhere deeper in the warehouse. Penelope’s hand instinctively went to her knives, ready. The Joker just chuckled.

“Relax,” he said. “Always a few rats scurrying around.”

But Penelope couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. There was a rhythm to this. The power outage, the explosives, the break-in. But there was also the chance of everything going sideways. For the first time, she understood what Liam had meant when he taught her about staying calm in the face of danger during one of their training sessions.

“Stay close, toots,” The Joker murmured again as he pocketed a few grenades, “And keep those knives ready. Gonna need them sooner than ya think.”

Just then, the crackle of gunfire rang out from the far end of the warehouse, and one of the Joker’s men dropped to the ground. The distraction charges had pulled in some curious onlookers - possibly guards - but they weren’t enough to deter them entirely.

Penelope’s grip tightened around the hilt of her knife, and she felt the Joker’s hand on her back, nudging her forward.

“Go on,” He grinned, “Time to see what you’re really made of.”

Without thinking, Penelope stepped forward, eyes locking on the approaching guard. In one smooth motion, she hurled the knife. It sliced through the air with precision and buried itself in the guard’s forehead, causing him to fall back with a heavy thump. She reached for her second knife, ready to throw again, but the Joker’s laugh stopped her.

“Not bad for a first shot.” He cackled, stepping past her. “I’ll make a proper criminal out of you yet.”

Her heart raced, her fingers trembling slightly as she took a breath, grounding herself. The rush of the throw, the hit—it felt like a release, a tiny spark of the chaos the Joker had always seen in her. She gripped the second knife and stayed close to him as the warehouse descended into a frenzy, determined to prove herself in the dark heart of Gotham.

The warehouse erupted into chaos as the sound of gunfire echoed through the air. Penelope’s heart raced, a mix of fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins. She was still riding the high of her first throw when two guards burst into the room, weapons drawn and eyes scanning for threats.

“Get down!” One of the guards shouted, aiming his firearm at Penelope.

She felt a rush of instinct surge through her. She didn’t think; she moved. With a quick flick of her wrist, she released her second knife, watching it sail through the air, aimed straight for the first guard. It struck him in the thigh, and he stumbled, dropping his gun with a cry of pain, Joker bursting with laughter behind her. Liam ran up next to him, about to help her when he was stopped.

“Let her do it.” He ordered, and Liam stepped back with hesitation as they both watched. 

The second guard turned to Penelope, fury igniting in his eyes as he charged at her. She didn’t hesitate, dodging to the side and using her momentum to pivot. Her training kicked in; she had practiced this with Liam, but this was different. This was real.

As the guard lunged, she grabbed his wrist, twisting it and using his weight against him to throw him off balance. He staggered, but his free hand shot out, catching her in the side. Pain flared, but she fought through it, focusing on her training.

With a swift kick to his knee, she brought him down, and before he could recover, she pulled out her gun, turned the safety off and pulled the trigger at his head before anyone could comprehend what was happening. The first guard groaned in the background, still writhing from the knife wound.

“Get him, Penny!” Liam called. The Joker simply leaned against a stack of crates, arms crossed, a predator watching his prey.

Penelope was already moving again, advancing on him as the first guard struggled to rise. She picked up his gun and held it at his temple.

“Get down.” She mocked before her face twisted into disgust and a shot rang through the warehouse.

“Such a violent little thing.” The Joker said to Liam with a smirk, still observing the chaos unfold as his laughter echoed off of the walls.

Penelope’s chest heaved with exertion. She hadn’t expected the thrill of the fight to feel so intoxicating. 

She stepped back, regaining her breath as the two guards lay lifeless on the floor.

“Now, let’s finish this little party,” The Joker said, moving towards the door with a mischievous grin. “Remember, doll, it’s all about theatrics. You don’t leave any witnesses.”

Penelope followed him, a smirk on her face. This was her new world. The rush, the danger, the thrill of being truly alive. The Joker was right; she was beginning to love every moment of it.

Little edit I made of my fav clown ☺️

Song: ^^4Я4Z^^ - Dove

More on my TikTok 💕

The Scarred - Chapter 11 🩸🔥🔞

Masterlist

Summary - Penelope Miller works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by trauma and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

Warning - This chapter contains smut but can be read without it. Smut will start after the second banner. MDNI/NSFW!

The smell of iron filled her lungs, the blood stuck to her face invading her senses as the man now lay still on the floor below her. With a crazed look in her eye, she kicked away the arm that was now detached, heavy as it slid across the stained floor. 

She began to breathe heavily, unable to decipher whether or not she had really done it. But the smell alone brought her to the reality of the situation. 

As the men began to pick up what was left of the body, she began to smile, then it turned into a chaotic giggle. She turned to face the Joker and it immediately dropped.

He stared at her with such an intensity that turned her to stone, eyes somehow darker than they ever were. Her lips parted in a silent question, worried about whether or not she overstepped. 

She heard the doors shut behind her and suddenly, in a few large strides, he approached her and aggressively pulled her into him. His lips crashed down onto her own blood stained ones, not possibly caring less in that moment as he practically suffocated her. 

At first she was stiff, baffled by his sudden behavior that seemed completely out of character for him. 

Then she finally let go and accepted it. 

Her arm reached up around his neck, reciprocating the affection with equal intensity. Nothing was held back by either of them, his hands wandering over her figure as she kept her own planted, choosing to focus on the sensation of his scarred lips. 

She sighed once he pulled away, eye slowly opening to gaze into the hazel gems before her. 

“J?” Penelope whispered, the nickname slipping out without a second thought. His expression faltered when it reached his ears, but their usual spark soon followed after. 

He didn’t correct her. He didn’t snap. Instead, a low chuckle rumbled from his throat, rolling into a sharp, sinister laugh that echoed off of the concrete walls. His gloved fingers came up to her face, tracing the scarred side with surprising gentleness, his grin stretching impossibly wide.

“Well, well, well,” He rasped, voice dripping with twisted delight. “Look who’s getting familiar now, hm?”

Penelope tensed but didn’t pull away. There was something unsettling in his gaze, a wildness dancing just beneath the surface. Yet there was a strange acceptance, too. As if she’d unlocked a piece of him. Something private. Dangerous.

“Ya know, doll,” He cooed, the nickname rolling off his tongue mockingly, yet with a hint of genuine fondness. “Most people aren’t brave enough to give me nicknames.” He licked at his lips. “Ya might want to be careful, though,” He leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear. “Calling me that? That’s… close. And close gets people hurt.”

His fingers dropped from her face, drifting lazily down to her shoulder, lingering on the edge of her missing arm. 

He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze again, those crazed eyes searching hers, trying to see if she’d flinch. But Penelope held her ground, her heart racing, something in her stirring. A newfound sense of chaos, creeping up, waking.

“I’ll take my chances,” She whispered, her voice steady despite the flutter of fear and excitement in her chest.

The Joker’s smile returned, wider than ever. He threw his head back and laughed, a sound that sent chills down her spine.

-

When she entered her apartment, she ignored the presence she knew would already be there, prioritizing a shower to get the now dried and crusted blood off of her. His questions of concern were muffled as she mindlessly wandered to her bedroom to pick out her pajamas. 

“Penelope!” Liam finally yelled, gripping firmly onto her shoulders and turning her to face him. For once, he was truly speechless. Unable to hide his worry for what inevitably came to be his best friend, brow furrowed.

“I’m fine, Liam.” She offered a genuine smile, resting her hand over one of his own. She brushed past him towards the bathroom to turn on the shower and closed the door. 

Questions flooded in his mind as he impatiently waited on the couch, the TV now completely blocked out. His leg bounced anxiously, biting at his nails. He practically jumped out of his skin when the door opened and she walked in, acting as if nothing even happened. 

She searched through her cupboards for something, plastic crinkling in her hands as she opened a pack of popcorn and popped it into the microwave. 

“Penny?” Liam cautiously called to her. She simply hummed in response. He stood and gradually made his way over to her. “Did he hurt ye?” 

“Quite the opposite.” Penelope answered casually, unloading the dishwasher as she spoke. 

“Penny. Ye know ye can trust me.”

“I killed a man, Liam!” She finally blurted out as she whipped to face him. “He found the man that caused this,” She motioned to her deformed body. “And I killed him.” 

The two of them stood silently, searching the other for any sign of distrust or betrayal. While she overthought his reaction, Liam had assumed it was only a matter of time before it happened. As soon as the Joker made himself known to her, he knew it was over.

“The scary part isn’t even that I did it. It’s that I enjoyed it. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to. Not after what he did to me, Liam.” Her voice began to break, lip beginning to tremble. “Not after…” She sniffed and wrapped her arm around his torso, relieved that his warm comfort was provided without a moment’s hesitation. 

He gently hushed her, cradling her head while his other hand’s thumb caressed her back. “It’s alright, lovin’.” He whispered. 

Liam pulled away, hands gently taking hold of her face to look at him. 

“There is nothin’ wrong with ye. Nothin’ wrong with what happened, ye understand? He got what he deserved, yeah?” 

Penelope nodded as he wiped away her tears, grabbing the popcorn from the microwave before leading them to the couch. She wrapped herself in a blanket, opening the bag and nibbling on a small handful. 

“Did he scream?” He asked in a joking tone once she calmed down more. To his relief, she giggled. 

“Like a pussy.” 

-

The flower shop was quiet, the soft scent of roses and lilies filling the air as Emma arranged a bouquet of daisies behind the counter. The bell over the door jingled softly as Penelope stepped inside, her movements slow and careful. Emma’s eyes lifted to greet her, but the smile faded slightly when she saw Penelope’s face—pale, drawn, and distant.

“Hey, hun,” Emma called gently, setting the flowers aside. “Everything okay?”

Penelope gave a half-smile, but it didn’t reach her eye. “Yeah, just couldn’t sleep.”

Emma frowned, watching her carefully. She knew Penelope had been through a lot, but lately, something had shifted. The girl had always been quiet, but now there was a tension beneath the surface, as if she were on edge, waiting for something. Emma noticed the slight twitch in Penelope’s remaining hand, her fingers trembling for a moment before she shoved them into her pocket.

“I’m gonna go handle the new shipment.” Penelope asked, her voice strained.

Emma nodded slowly but kept her eyes on her as she made her way to the door leading into the back room. “Of course, sweetheart. You sure you’re feeling alright, though? You’ve been… distant lately.”

Penelope stiffened, her back to Emma as she began unpacking a box of tulips. “I’m fine.” She said quickly. Too quickly.

Emma bit her lip, the maternal instinct in her stirring. She walked over, placing a hand on Penelope’s shoulder. “Look, I know things have been hard for you, but if something’s wrong… you can talk to me. You know that, right?”

Penelope flinched at the touch, though she tried to hide it with a small shrug. “I know. But really, it’s nothing. I’m just tired.”

Emma’s brows furrowed. She didn’t believe that for a second. There was a darkness in Penelope’s expression, something haunted and restless. Emma had seen it before in people who were hiding something, something dangerous. She couldn’t help but feel a knot of worry tighten in her chest.

“I just want to make sure you’re safe, Penelope,” Emma said softly. “You’ve been acting off. And it scares me.”

Penelope hesitated, her fingers gripping the edge of the box. “I’m fine, Emma.”

But Emma wasn’t convinced. Her heart ached as she watched her, knowing that whatever it was, Penelope was shutting her out. 

“I’m here if you need me,” Emma said quietly, retreating back to the counter. “Just… don’t push yourself too hard, okay?”

Penelope nodded, but Emma could see the flicker of guilt in her eye before she turned away.

A little while passed and eventually it was close to closing. Penelope sat behind the counter scribbling away in her journal, however more aggressive than usual. The door chimed as it opened, a sigh of relief falling from her lips when she saw it was only Liam. And it didn’t go unnoticed by Emma. 

“Ey there, Penny.” He greeted, giving a simple nod to Emma as he charismatically leaned on the counter in front of the former. “Day treatin’ ye right?” Penelope shrugged. Emma decided to disappear into the back, but took care to listen in on their conversation.

“As much as it can, I suppose.” 

“Ye still up fer the range?” He asked, concerned about whether she was too tired or overwhelmed. 

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Don’t think I’ll be up for being there as long, though.” 

“No worries about that, I figured as much.” He glanced over at the clock and Penelope did the same, packing up her things to leave. She walked over to the back room and leaned in the doorway. 

“I’m heading out, Emma. Text me if you need anything, okay?” The brunette gave an appreciative smile. 

“I will. You take care now, okay? Be safe.” 

“You too.” Penelope offered a smile of her own before meeting Liam at the door to leave. 

The range was rather large, hidden away in the outskirts which she appreciated. With how big it was, she was surprised that they were the only ones there besides the owner at the front. 

They stood in a separate room where the actual range was, handguns aimed down range and firing. After finishing an iteration they took their ear covers off, the pressure of them irritating her head. 

“She doesn’t know about what ye’ve been up to, does she?” Liam suddenly asked, catching her off guard. Penelope hesitated before answering. 

“No.” Liam leaned against the nearby wall, eyeing her. 

“I’d be careful about her if I were ye.” 

“Why’s that? She doesn’t know, and it’s going to stay that way so long as I can help it.” Penelope readied her gun for the next iteration, then set it back down carefully.

“Ye see, that’s the thing. Ye don’t trust her enough to tell her. And that says a lot. Ye told me and yet ye’ve barely known me for half as long.” 

Liam pushed himself off of the wall and began making his way towards her. 

“Ye don’t trust her as much as he think ye do, Penny. She may be a friend, but she’s not loyal. The second she gets even a hint of what yer up to, she’s gonna get curious and try to find out more, and when she does, she’s goin’ straight to the cops.” 

“She wouldn’t do that to me -“

“But she would.” Liam spoke sternly, urging her to believe him. “I’ve dealt with plenty of her kind and it never ended well. Even just today, I saw the way she was eyein’ us. She’s already suspicious.” 

Liam raised his hands to rest on her shoulders.

“Ye need to be careful around her. I know it’s hard, she’s yer friend, I get it. I do. But I’m speakin’ from experience. As much as it hurts to hear, ye can’t trust her.” 

Penelope cast her gaze downwards, struggling to take in all that she was being told. 

“Come on. Let’s keep goin’.” He nodded towards the targets in front of them, taking notice of the turmoil going on in her head. 

As always, he walked her to her apartment when finished. Both because he was right down the hall and it was just the right thing to do. But just before she opened her door, he stopped her. 

“Just think about what I said, yeah? I’m tryin’ to keep ye safe.” Penelope paused, thinking. Then she finally nodded and Liam smiled at her, patting her shoulder before walking to his apartment. 

Penelope turned back to her door and opened it, a familiar smell reaching her nose making her sigh as the door softly clicked shut behind her. She looked over at her couch where the notorious clown-like man sat comfortably. He lounged back like he belonged there, flipping through channels with an air of indifference, his lips twisted into that familiar, unsettling grin.

Her heart raced. She didn’t know what to feel. Fear, confusion, curiosity? The same mixture of emotions had been bubbling inside her since that night. The night she’d felt his lips on hers, tasted the madness, and the thrill of what she’d done. The blood on her hands still felt so fresh.

“You’re here.” Penelope finally said, breaking the silence, her voice hoarse but steady.

Joker didn’t look away from the screen, but his grin widened. “Where else would I be?”

She swallowed hard, moving slowly towards the couch, her eyes never leaving him. “I don’t know… plotting, terrorizing people. Laughing at something burning, maybe?”

He chuckled, the sound low and dark, and patted the seat next to him. “Sheesh, can’t a guy just catch a break sometimes? Hm?” He jested, eyes still fixated on the TV. “Sit down, toots, we’re watching a comedy.”

She hesitated, glancing at the TV. Some mindless sitcom played, laugh tracks echoing. She took a seat, keeping her distance but not too far. The cushion sagged slightly under her, and she found herself staring at him, trying to read something - anything - in his chaotic, unpredictable eyes.

“What’s so funny about this?” She asked, her voice soft, unsure whether she meant the show or their entire situation.

Joker’s eyes slid over to her, sharp and amused. “Oh, nothing about the show. It’s the idea of it. People trapped in their boring little lives, pretending everything’s fine.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s hilarious, don’t ya think?”

Penelope’s gaze shifted from the TV to him, searching his face. She couldn’t understand how he saw the world. He terrified her, fascinated her, made her want to crawl away and stay close all at once. Her fingers traced the edge of the cushion nervously. “How do you live like this?”

“Like what?” He asked flatly, his eyes glinting as if her question was a challenge.

“Like…” She struggled for the right words. “Without… rules. Without a plan. Just… chaos.”

He laughed, leaning back, stretching his arms over the back of the couch, his fingers brushing her shoulder. “Well, I wouldn’t say I live in chaos.” His voice was soft now, almost soothing, but there was still a biting tone to it. “Yeah, I cause chaos. But live in freedom. Freedom from their rules. Their endless nagging, the ‘don’t do this, do this’, ya see? You’ve tasted it, haven’t you? The freedom. The power.”

Penelope tensed, the memory of that night creeping back in. The rush of adrenaline, the way her hands had trembled… then steadied. “That’s freedom…?” She whispered. 

Joker’s grin faltered for just a second, and he tilted his head, watching her closely. “You did what you wanted to do. Without worrying about consequences. Their consequences. The consequences of everyone trying to control you and be someone that you’re not.”

She bit her lip, looking down at her lap. “How can I be sure there won’t be consequences?”

“You’re lookin’ at it, toots.” Joker said, his tone playful but condescending. “You can choose to pretend everything’s fine, just like everyone else. Go back to being quiet, timid little Penelope. Or…” He leaned in close. “You can be free.”

Her pulse quickened, and she turned to face him, searching his eyes.“Why do you want me to change?” She asked finally, her voice quiet.

Joker’s gaze softened, just for a moment, as if he was considering her question seriously. “I don’t want you to change. I want you to stop pretending. I see potential. Potential that is greater than you’d ever know. And I finally got a taste of it. And so did you. The real question is…” He shifted his body to face her. “Can you live with it? Because once you go down this road, doll, there’s no turning back. Your cute little world will not be there for you anymore. It’ll show its true colors. You’ll see. And once you do?” He threw her a look with an accompanied gesture. “I can guarantee you won’t want to go back.” 

Penelope wasn’t sure what to do, what to think. She couldn’t help but believe him. Everything he said had some resemblance of truth. Was the freedom truly worth it? Was it worth throwing everything away? Emma? Liam? If the way she felt that night at the warehouse was only a taste of it, she could only imagine how she would feel if she just completely let go. 

She was sure Liam would understand, he was supportive of her every step of the way. No matter if it was morally questionable. 

But Emma? 

Penelope thought about what Liam had told her. Emma was a close friend. A mother figure, even. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe Liam was right about her. She kept telling herself that she never told Emma any of what was happening for her protection, but could she have just been lying to herself to prevent her own guilt? Did she truly trust Emma, or did she just cling to the brunette for lack of options? 

A tear trickled its way down her cheek, not even noticing beforehand as she was lost in thought. She looked Joker in the eye and spoke with a trembling voice. 

“I don’t want to live like this anymore…” Penelope shook her head. “I’m tired of feeling stuck.” She noticed a subtle shift in his expression, hardened. He suddenly rose to his feet with newfound determination. 

“Get up.” He demanded, catching her by surprise. After a moment, she stood and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her into the bathroom and facing her towards the mirror. “Ya want to stop living by their rules, hm?” Penelope nodded in desperation. “Take off the bandages.” 

Her eye widened in disbelief, breathing halted. He stepped closer to her, his warmth pressed against her. 

“Break their norm. Show them you’re not theirs to control anymore. Stop trying to be like them.” He leaned in next to her ear. “Send a message.”

Penelope took a shaky breath, meeting Joker’s eye through the mirror. Her heart raced, blood rushing in her ears as her hand fought to leave her side. Slowly but surely, it raised. Her hands caressed the edge of her bandages, toying with the fabric until she finally began to pull them off with care. 

She refused to look at herself, tears now streaming down her cheek as a sob left her lips. She felt cool leather grip her jaw, forcing her to look at her reflection in the mirror. 

The sight seemed foreign to her no matter how many times she took them off. The texture was soft, yet uneven. It was finally healed with skin covering where her eye should have been.

“Now that… is a doll.” 

His knuckles caressed down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The tickling sensation caught her breath, head leaning back against him. This enigmatic man made her feel alive, made her want to embrace the freedom he spoke of as his hands slid down her slim figure, igniting something within her. 

"There ya go." Joker whispered, his breath hot against her ear. 

Penelope's gaze fell on her exposed scars, and for the first time, she felt truly wanted. She felt beautiful. 

"Now how about that freedom?" He growled, hands slipping under her shirt and caressing her soft skin. As his skilled fingers found her hardened nipples, Penelope's breath hitched. His marred lips mixed with her own textured neck, covering it with nips and licks as he practically worshiped her scars. She wanted this man, wanted to feel his touch. She yearned to explore this new, uninhibited side of herself that he was awakening.

Joker’s hands then lifted her shirt, pulling it off over her head and soaking in the sight of her with a heated gaze. 

More scars littered her left side, similar to what was on her face. He felt her begin the retreat, but his hands quickly snatched her wrists to keep her where she was. “None of that. Got it?” He threatened and she nodded in response. 

He then unclasped her bra and tossed it away, hands moving to cup and toy at her breasts. One hand began to travel lower, unbuttoning her pants and sliding them down her slender legs. Once she stepped out of them he turned her around to face him and pushed her until she was leaning against the bathroom counter. Her legs opened, inviting him to stand in between them. One of his thighs pressed against her radiating core, flexing his muscle until her head leaned back with a sigh. 

He released a feral growl and reached around to the back of her head, pulling her into him so their lips clashed against each other. The kiss was rough and full of need, Penelope lightly moaning into it as she ground herself against his thigh for some much needed relief. 

“Yeah? Ya like that?” Joker taunted before snatching her thighs and setting her on top of the empty space of the counter. “C’mere.” He dropped to his knees, his hands pulling down her panties and spreading her pussy lips, revealing her glistening, swollen clit. He inhaled her scent, a mix of desire and her unique musk, before plunging his tongue deep inside her, making her gasp and grip the edge of the counter.

Joker’s tongue was a skilled weapon, licking and sucking at her clit, sending waves of pleasure through Penelope's body. He teased her entrance, dipping his tongue just inside before pulling away, only to return with renewed fervor.

"J -" Penelope moaned, her head thrown back. "Please, don’t stop."

Joker hummed, the vibrations sending shivers through Penelope. “Dangerous thing to beg me like that, doll.” 

He warned before he continued his oral assault, bringing her closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. Just as she was about to climax, he pulled away, leaving her breathless and desperate.

"Thought it’d be that easy, hm?" He said, standing. 

Penelope, wild with desire, reached for Joker’s trousers, undoing them with tremulous fingers. Once unbuttoned, her hand tremulously reached inside to grasp his hardened cock, pulling it free from its confines.

Joker’s cock was thick, the head glistening with pre-cum as she stroked it, her touch tentative yet eager. "Like whatcha see?" He asked, his voice hoarse with desire.

Penelope nodded, her eye never leaving his cock as she continued to stroke it, marveling at the power she held in her hands. "Please, J…" She whispered, her voice thick with need.

He didn't need to be asked twice. 

He gripped onto her hip tightly, spreading her legs wide as he positioned himself at her entrance. 

“Now what’d I say about begging?” With one smooth thrust, he filled her, his cock stretching her pussy as he slid deep inside.

Penelope cried out, her body welcoming the invasion, her pussy clenching around his cock as he began to move, his hips thrusting in a steady rhythm. He leaned forward, his lips finding hers in a hungry kiss. 

Joker’s hands gripped her thighs, spreading her wider as he pounded into her, his cock hitting her sweet spot with each thrust. Penelope's body trembled, her orgasm building with each delicious stroke.

"That’s it," He growled against her lips. "There ya go, toots. Come on, show me how much you want it.” 

His words were like a trigger, and Penelope's body exploded in a cascade of pleasure. She cried out, her pussy clenching around Joker’s cock as waves of ecstasy washed over her. He followed her over the edge, his cock throbbing as he emptied his load deep inside her, filling her with his hot cum.

As their heart rates slowed and their breathing returned to normal, Joker leaned back, watching as one of his hands ran over her scarred body. When their eyes met, Penelope smiled. Eye sparkling with newfound confidence. 

The Scarred - Chapter 10

Masterlist

Summary - Penelope Miller works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by trauma and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

The woman stared at her reflection in the mirror, eyes glazed over as she glared at herself, judgment passing over her flawed body. She looked back up to meet her own gaze. Just then, a second familiar figure appeared behind her, stepping closer until the heat of their body was pressed against her.

Penelope tossed in her bed, a thin coat of sweat layered upon her skin as she panted, drowning in her own heat.

Her breath grew shaky as the figure brought a hand up to her neck, grazing his knuckles along the scarred skin. He brought his head to rest against hers, his scarred cheeks creating a soothing texture against her own. His hands slid down her figure to rest on her hips, pulling her closer to him. Her eye closed, head leaning back against his shoulder.

“Jack -“ She whispered to him.

Penelope shot up from her bed, too stunned to speak as tears streamed down her face. “Jack?” She cried to herself.

-

“This ‘Jack’ fellow. He mean anythin’ to ye?” Liam questioned as they waited on their order, sitting at a table tucked away in the corner of the small fast food joint.

Penelope thought for a moment, debating on whether or not she wanted to explain any further than she could handle. Liam patiently waited, however long it took for her. “He did…”

“Who was he?” He tried to pry further and he noticed her bite her lip, avoiding his gaze.

“Do you want the short story or the long one?”

“Whichever you prefer, lovin’.” Another pause. She took a deep breath.

“He was my boyfriend. Together for four years. He joined the Army knowing I was against it and eventually made it to Special Forces.”

Her fingers began to fidget with her jacket.

“Shortly after his training was finished, he proposed to me. Then two months before our wedding, he was deployed. I haven't heard from him since.” Penelope’s eyes glazed over. “I can’t help but think of all of the terrible things that could have happened to him.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Two years.” Liam reached out, covering her hand with his own larger one as an act of sympathy. Penelope struggled to prevent the dam of her eye from breaking.

“I’m not sure if this helps, but as a man that had me own love once? He’ll do everythin’ he can to find his way back to ye. Dead or alive. I’m not superstitious, but I think that dream was his way of findin’ ye again.”

Those last few words are what broke her. Tears silently fell, and she rushed to wipe them away, too stubborn to show them openly in public. She sniffed and looked away as their order was called, Liam going up to grab their food before guiding them out of the building and back to the apartment.

They ate in a comfortable silence, the TV humming once again in the background as Penelope was deep in thought. She couldn’t help the gut feeling that began to form in her stomach, too strong to ignore. It began to gnaw at her, eating away at whatever thoughts tried to push it away.

Once the sun had set and Liam left for the night, she looked out of the living room window, debating on whether or not she should take any chances.

She eventually sighed and gave in, throwing on her shoes and jacket before making her way to her car.

Pulling into the familiar parking lot, Penelope sat in her car, the engine off, the sound of the city distant as she stared out at the still water. The lake was calm, moonlight dancing across its surface like silver threads. The parking lot was empty, just like the night they had met. When she had been more cautious, more unsure of the man that now haunted her.

Now, though, things felt different.

The woman stepped out, leaning against the driver’s door as she breathed in the polluted air around her.

She couldn’t shake the pull she felt, the way the Joker had gotten under her skin. The thrill, the chaos, the freedom he had awakened in her. It was all still there, humming like electricity in her veins. It was an addiction. And yet, he had vanished afterward, like a phantom slipping back into Gotham’s shadows.

A flicker of movement in her peripheral vision made her stiffen. She turned her head slowly, heart racing just a little. And there he was, leaning casually against a streetlight at the edge of the lot, watching her. His purple coat was open, revealing his attire underneath, and he looked every bit as chaotic and unpredictable as he had that night. But this time, his eyes didn’t hold the same level of danger. Instead, there was something familiar. Something almost intimate.

Penelope’s breath hitched as their gazes locked.

The Joker sauntered towards her with a lazy grin, his posture relaxed yet full of that wild energy she knew too well. She couldn’t deny it. There was something there that she couldn’t explain. A tension, but not one born of fear or caution. It was something magnetic, unspoken. Something that pulled them together even when logic said they should stay apart.

“Miss me?” His voice cut through the stillness, teasing, his grin widening as he reached her car.

Her good hand rested casually in her pocket. “What if I did?” She replied, her voice softer than she intended, yet steady. She didn’t feel the need to hide her curiosity now. She wanted to understand what it was that drew her to him.

His eyes gleamed with amusement as he tilted his head. “Oh, look at you,” He mused, circling the front of her car like a predator sizing up its prey. “All calm, all… confident now.” He tapped the hood lightly as he passed, his fingers drumming an uneven rhythm. “What happened to that shaky, nervous thing you were before?”

“She grew up.” She gave him a small smile, knowing full well the Joker enjoyed the challenge.

He stopped at the driver’s side - closer than before - and leaned in, his face inches from hers as he stared at her, unblinking. She could feel the heat of his breath on her skin. Could almost hear the ticking of his erratic thoughts.

“I like this version of you,” He whispered, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. “There’s a spark in ya, doll… And I’m gonna light it to hell.” His eyes gleamed, the dangerous edge still there. But now it felt personal.

She didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Not this time. Instead, she leaned into the moment, thinking of that liberating feeling from that night. Letting the tension between them manifest into something real. Something tangible. “I want you to.” Penelope replied with an unwavering, honest gaze.

For a brief second, the Joker’s grin faltered, his eyes narrowing as if he was searching for something in her expression, something deeper. Then he laughed, the sound sharp and jagged in the quiet night.

“You’re not afraid anymore… that’s good,” He purred, straightening up but keeping his eyes on her. “Fear’s no fun when it’s one-sided, hm?”

Penelope felt the pull between them grow stronger. She wasn’t afraid anymore. Not of him, not of the things he brought out in her. And he could sense it. Their dynamic had shifted. They weren’t strangers playing a game of cat and mouse. They were something else entirely now.

“Come on,” He said suddenly, offering his hand. “Let’s go do something fun.”

She hesitated for only a second before slipping her hand into his, the feeling of his gloved fingers closing around hers sending a shiver up her spine. This time, it wasn’t fear. It was anticipation. She knew this path would lead to chaos, to something she couldn’t control.

But perhaps that’s what she craved for. And how would she know if she never tried?

He led her to what seemed to be just a regular black car, but she knew better. One of his men waiting by the car opened the passenger door for her, another doing the same for the driver’s side which was new to her.

“You’re driving this time?” Penelope mused once they took their seats, attempting to joke with him and poke the bear.

“I’ve driven plenty, toots.” He winked at her and started the car, his men taking their seats in the back. The car revved and his grip choked the steering wheel, then suddenly took off into the dark streets.

Penelope yelped in surprise before it turned into laughter. The car quickly sped up, the empty streets offering him leverage as he swerved in the road. He pressed down harder on the gas pedal when they reached a long stretch of road, reaching nearly ninety miles an hour that had the woman clutching her seat.

“Joker?” She questioned anxiously.

“Thought ya grew up, toots?” He began to cackle. “So grow up! Enjoy the ride!” Taking a leap of faith, she eased into it, choosing to trust the man behind the wheel. A wide smile spread across her lips once she decided to embrace it as it came, growing more comfortable. And eventually she joined his laughter.

When the car slowed down to a more decent speed, she rolled down her window and began to ease her torso outside, sitting on the door and holding onto the handle inside as leverage. Neon lights sped past as she leaned her head back, taking the wind as it came.

“There ya go, doll!” She heard the Joker encourage from below. His hand reached for her ankle when she wobbled slightly, the small act making her stomach flutter unexpectedly.

The same hand patted her calf when the car pulled into an open lot in front of a large, worn down building.

She fully climbed out and looked over at the Joker, then at the building where two men stood at the doors. Following closely behind him, she eyed the men standing guard who offered the same in turn, the other two from the car close behind her.

The warehouse was dimly lit, shadows dancing along the cracked concrete walls as a few lights flickered ominously. Different voices echoed and carried through the building as they made their way up the stairs past different floors, stopping at the uppermost level. It was an open space with little furniture, weapons of every kind littered around the room. With a single look from the Joker, the other men that were there left.

Penelope stood near an old, rusted table, her body tense, feeling out of place in the gritty environment. She ran her fingers over where the scars on the left side of her body were, feeling the uneven texture.

Across the room, the Joker leaned against a pile of crates. His scarred smile never wavered as his wild eyes observed her every move. He tilted his head, amusement playing across his face.

“Relax, toots. You’re too stiff.” The Joker said, waving his hand theatrically. “Now, the basics. Crime? Oh, it’s not just about the guns and the knives and the explosions. It’s about the art of chaos.”

Penelope’s gaze flickered to his, her curiosity fighting her hesitation. “Chaos?” She asked, her voice soft yet edged with something deeper, something he’d been coaxing out of her since they met.

Joker stepped closer, shoes scraping against the floor, and set down a blueprint on the table between them. “Soon,” He said, tapping his finger on a marked building, “We make a statement. But first, you gotta learn how to send a message. It’s not just about what you take. It’s about what they lose.”

She blinked, studying the blueprint, unsure what part of this made sense. “I’m not like you, Joker, I can’t just -“ She motioned to the table in front of her, unable to find the right words.

A low chuckle escaped the Joker’s throat, and he walked behind her, placing his gloved hands lightly on her shoulders. He leaned down, his voice a low whisper in her ear. “Oh, but you already are. You just need to let go. Stop playing by their rules and start looking at the bigger picture, hm?”

Penelope shivered, but didn’t pull away. Couldn’t pull away. There was a flicker of excitement she couldn’t deny, a part of her that wanted to let go of the fear. Of the guilt and the pain.

“Here’s the thing,” Joker continued, circling back to face her. He tossed a knife onto the table in front of her, its blade gleaming under the warehouse’s dim light. “It’s not about what you can do. It’s about how much you’re willing to risk. For control. For power. For fun.”

Penelope looked at the knife, then back at the Joker. “What do you want from me?”

His grin widened, his eyes burning with manic intensity. “I want you to embrace that spark. That little chaos inside you - and, oh, I see it, don’t you dare try and hide it.” He cocked his head. “That fire that turned you into this?” He motioned at her figure. “That took your arm, your eye? It didn’t kill you. So let it burn.”

Suddenly, the doors burst open, followed by grunts and muffled screaming and yelling from what seemed to be a man. Penelope turned to see what was going on, but Joker quickly took hold of her jaw and forced her to look at him.

Penelope exhaled slowly, her mind replaying flashes of her past. The fire, the agony. Her lost innocence. Maybe, just maybe, he was right. The chaos was already there, harnessed and held against its own will.

His gloved hand let go of her face, moving down to her waist and turning her around to face the commotion behind her.

In front of her sat a disheveled and bloodied man on his knees, gagged by a rag tied around his head. Two men stood at either side, guns in hand as they carefully watched between him and their boss.

“Know who this is?” The Joker questioned, hand still on her waist. The woman shook her head. “Remember that fire?”

Everything suddenly grew cold for Penelope. She stiffened, practically staring into the pitiful man’s very soul.

“New hire. Whaddya know?” Joker chuckled, then stopped abruptly. “Then he just had to open his mouth and - ope! Lookie here.”

He slipped past the shaky woman and snatched his jaw, squeezing at his cheeks to make him look up at his blackened stare.

“Just so happens that ya hurt this doll right here!”

He motioned to Penelope, then playfully slapped his face and made his way back to stand behind her.

“Remember that? Now you can finally put a face to it.”

He peeked over her shoulder to catch her change in expression, nose slightly flaring every other breath as she attempted to harness her emotions.

“Don’t hide it. Embrace it.” He rested a hand on her upper arm. “Pick up the knife.” The Joker urged, his tone softer but no less dangerous.

She looked over at the table, thinking for a moment before she reached for the blade, the cool metal now more familiar in her palm. But as she gripped it, something shifted. The fear that had once anchored her slipped away, leaving room for something else. Power? Defiance?

“That’s it. Now look at him.” She obeyed. “Remember that pain. Remember everything you lost because of him.”

Without another word, he watched as she took a step towards him, knuckles white as she squeezed the handle of the blade. Another step. Then another, until she was directly in front of him.

Tears welled up in her eye, images flashing across her mind at the horror he caused. The pain she endured, the pain she continued to endure. The blade slowly inched its way towards his face, the tip resting just below his left eye.

“I think I’ll start with what I lost.”

The Scarred - Chapter 9

Masterlist

Summary - Penelope Miller works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by trauma and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

“You okay, Penny?” Emma questioned, seeing the woman in question begin to nod off. She quickly sat up and rapidly blinked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just didn’t get much sleep, that's all.” She responded, which wasn’t really a lie at all. Liam had tried to convince her to call in to take the day off, but Penelope couldn’t do that to Emma. That and she worried it would come off as suspicious since she rarely ever does it, and even more so given recent events that have been occurring at the shop itself.

“Is something bothering you, hun?” Emma asked gently, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“No, I’m okay,” She turned to face her. “Promise.” She smiled, and thankfully it was returned before the older woman walked away. Penelope let out a sigh of relief, massaging her temple.

They received more customers than usual that day, thankfully. It helped to both keep her awake and distract her from her thoughts, which grew to be a harder task as of late. By the time the work day drew to a close, Penny was practically sleepwalking. Zombified and depleted of energy, she waved off Emma in a goodbye before she turned to leave.

As she passed an alleyway, thinking all was well and would finally return home to relax, she gasped when something snatched her jacket and pulled her in.

“I did some thinking - y’know?” A familiar voice tossed up her stomach with nerves. She turned to look up at the painted face that greeted her - however much of a greeting it was.

“You scared the hell out of me!” She whisper-yelled in exasperation, her adrenaline throwing all caution to the wind regardless of who was in front of her.

“I think you oughtta have these than myself.” He continued on, completely ignoring what she said. She looked down and saw the handgun and knives from last night.

“You couldn’t have done that last night rather than snatching me and giving me a heart attack?”

“You’re alive, aren’t cha?” The Joker dismissed as if it was the most simple thing. Penelope couldn’t help but roll her eyes to his amusement and he hummed.

“Gettin’ a little bold after last night, don’t cha think?” His voice was flat, yet somehow still held a joking undertone. Penelope grew fidgety, mentally slapping herself for forgetting who she was talking to.

“I’m sorry, it’s been a long day.” She nearly whispered with a downcast gaze.

“Ah, I’m just messing with ya, doll!” The Joker cackled. “But seriously, take these, I don’t want em.” She greatly hesitated before gently taking them from his hands, looking at them for a moment and putting them in her satchel.

“Thank you -“

“I’m going to give a wild guess and say you don’t have a single gun at your place?”

“I mean, I don’t, but -“

“Ah-ta-ta-ta.” He cut her off, placing a finger over her lips.

“Don’t got time for chit-chat, toots, but uh -“ He looked around for a second before leaning in closer to her as if he was telling a secret. “We can save that for later, hm?” He winked with a click of his tongue and gave her a couple of small pats on her head before turning to leave. “Don’t wait up for me!” He hollered over his shoulder and disappeared off to who knew where with a skip.

Penelope just stood in the alleyway confused as ever for the umpteenth time. If she wasn’t awake before, she definitely was now. She turned to make her way back to the main sidewalk, this time bumping into someone else.

“Oi, there ye are!”

“For fuck’s sake!” She gasped once again, hand over her chest. Liam frowned and steadied her.

“First of all, that’s my line. Second, the hell were ye doin in an alley?” He gently coaxed her to start their walk back to their apartment complex.

“Too tired to explain right now.”

“Alright, fair enough. Guess it’s not a good time to say ‘I told you so’ then?” Penelope gave him a side eye and he held up his hands in defense. “Okay, okay. Quiet time it is.”

When the two of them reached her apartment and stepped inside, they were quick to get comfortable and relax on the couch. The TV hummed in the background at a low volume, soothing the two of them as Penelope began to fall asleep in Liam’s lap, the latter playing a game on his phone mindlessly.

No matter how close the woman was to sleep, though,, her body fought back. Her mind raced with scattered thoughts, a heavy sigh leaving her lips catching Liam’s attention.

“What’s on yer mind, lovin?”

“Too much.” She answered simply. Liam took his turn to sigh.

“Still too tired to talk about it?”

“The Joker is supposed to be dangerous…” She whispered mindlessly. Liam tensed at first and put down his phone. She continued once he began to caress her hair. “And yet I can’t shake that I feel safe with him.” Penelope turned in his lap, head facing up at him as she stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know how else to describe it. But something about him just feels so familiar, Liam. Like a reminder of something I can’t remember.”

“Aye. I know the feelin’, believe me.” He shifted as he thought. “If he wanted ye dead, he would’ve done so already. It’s a gruesome thought, but I believe it’s the truth.” He looked down at Penelope who met his gaze of understanding.

“But what if he has an ulterior motive? What if he’s just using me?” She watched as Liam began to shake his head.

“He doesn’t seem the type. Not patient enough from what we’ve seen on the news. Seems to me that if he wants something, he just goes fer it. The man won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.” There was a moment of silence, the two of them sitting in contemplation, coming up with scenario after scenario where something could go wrong. But none of them seemed realistic in comparison to what had happened so far.

Days passed with no contact from the Joker or his men, much to her surprise. Days turned into a couple of weeks. Penelope just assumed that he was either too busy or got bored of her. She wasn’t sure which would have been a better explanation.

In a way, she missed his odd encounters. Before him, her life was boring, for lack of a better word. It was the same routine over and over and over. Granted, Liam tossed things up from time to time. But she eventually grew used to that, as well.

Penelope decided to switch things up herself after some days. She found a target range not too far away where she could continue her practice with the knives and handgun, Liam joining her from time to time.

It wasn’t until a while after that he came up with an idea.

“Come on.” The Irishman dragged the woman by her wrist to what looked like a gym of sorts.

“Liam, what’re we doing here -“

“You’ll see, ye twat, just come on.” As they entered the building, he scanned them in and took her upstairs, the smell making her nose twitch in discomfort. Once they reached the top, she was welcomed to an empty matted room. Her eye widened in surprise, unsure of what Liam was getting themselves into.

“The hell is this about?” He clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“Take off her shoes and coat and you’ll see. Stop asking questions, dammit!” He chuckled as he got ready himself and walked onto the mat.

Soon after she followed, giggling at the feeling of the mat beneath them like a child on a trampoline.

“Oi!” She snapped her head up to where he was and stood in front of him. “I figured since ye got them fancy knives and gun, we teach ye some real self defense, yeah?” Penelope’s eye shot wide open.

“Self defe -? You do realize I only have one arm, right?” Liam shrugged.

“All the more reason ye need it.” Penelope sighed and glanced away for a second, then took a deep breath.

“Okay fine, I’ll play.” He nodded with a reassuring grin.

“Right, Penny. First rule: self-defense isn’t about strength. It’s about leverage. Ye don’t need two arms er perfect vision fer this. It’s all about knowin’ how to use what ye’ve got.”

Penelope nodded, her single eye narrowing as she focused on him. Her missing left arm had made her hesitant, and the burns that marked her left side were a constant reminder of her limitations. But she needed to do this.

Liam stepped closer and motioned for her to raise her remaining arm. “Let’s start with balance. No matter what situation yer in, ye need a strong foundation. Feet shoulder-width apart. Right foot slightly behind, heel up. Keep that center of gravity low, but don’t lock yer knees.”

Penelope followed his instructions, her movements stiff but determined. She felt a slight shift in her body as she adjusted her stance. Liam circled her slowly, nodding his approval.

“Good. Now, if someone comes at ye from the front, yer not going to overpower em, but ye can use their own momentum against em. Grab my wrist with yer right hand.”

Penelope hesitated for a moment before grasping his wrist. Liam, much taller and stronger than her, didn’t resist at first, but then slowly applied pressure, mimicking an attacker’s force.

“When someone grabs ye, ye won’t have the leverage to just pull away,” He explained. “But what ye can do is use yer entire body to redirect the attack.” He gently guided her to pivot her hips and pull him off balance. “See? Ye use yer hips and shoulders to create force. That’s what keeps ye grounded and throws em off.”

Penelope felt the shift in weight and how Liam’s body tilted slightly as she pulled him off-center. Her eyes widened in surprise, a spark of confidence growing inside of her.

“Now, what if someone tries to take ye down?” Liam asked, stepping back and raising his hands as if to simulate a grab for her. “Yer instinct might be to pull away, but that just puts ye at a disadvantage. Instead, ye drop yer weight. Lower yer center of gravity, and they won’t be able to lift ye.”

He demonstrated, lunging toward her in slow motion. Penelope took a deep breath and bent her knees, dropping her weight as Liam had instructed. She felt him try to lift her, but she remained planted, like a rooted tree.

Liam grinned. “That’s it! Perfect. And while they’re strugglin’ to get a grip, that’s when ye go fer yer next move. Elbows, knees—anything hard and sharp. It’s not about bein’ clean. It’s about surviving.”

Penelope smirked slightly at that. “So… you want me to fight dirty?”

Liam’s eyes twinkled. “In Gotham? There’s no other way.”

He motioned for her to step back, giving her space. “Now, let’s try it with a punch. Someone’s swingin’ at ye from the right. What do ye do?”

Penelope tensed. Her left eye was no longer, and her missing arm meant her range of vision was limited. But Liam had thought of that.

“Ye can’t block with yer left, so ye have to move. Slip to the outside of their swing, stay low, and use yer shoulder to knock em off balance. That’s where yer right arm comes in.”

He swung at her slowly, exaggerating the motion so she could practice. Penelope sidestepped, dipping her head and bringing her right shoulder up to mimic the block.

Liam nodded in approval. “Good! Now follow up with yer right elbow—hard to their face er throat.”

Penelope did as he instructed, bringing her elbow up in a quick motion, though she hesitated at the last second. Liam chuckled. “Don’t hold back next time. You’ll need that speed and precision.”

They spent the next hour going over similar moves: how to throw a knee into an attacker’s gut, how to pivot and drive her elbow into someone’s ribs, how to avoid attacks from angles she couldn’t see. With each move, Penelope grew more confident, her hesitation slowly melting away.

Finally, Liam held up a hand, signaling for a break. “Yer gettin’ there, Penny. Ye’ve got the instincts. Now ye just need to trust yerself.”

Penelope wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, breathing heavily but feeling more grounded than she had in a long time. “It’s… a lot to take in. But I want to keep practicing.”

Liam clapped her on the shoulder. “And ye will. Just remember, yer not as vulnerable as you think. Ye’ve been through hell and came out the other side. That’s more strength than any move I can teach ye.”

Penelope gave him a small, hearing him say something so endearing a rarity coming from him. Her eye glimmered, practically glazed over with emotion. “Thank you, Liam.”

More days passed. And more. But it wasn’t boring anymore, no. Liam and Penelope had been practicing her self-defense as often as they could without straining themselves, and eventually he decided to teach her offensive attacks as well should they be necessary.

It was obvious to her that he genuinely cared for her and her safety, understanding that he wouldn’t always be there to protect her. That much was clear. Though it was a welcomed respite, the Joker still lingered in the back of her mind.

No matter how long it had been since he visited, she couldn’t help but think that their encounters were far from over.