♥️ ARTIST SPOTLIGHT ♥️
Our next page artist is nothing short of exceptional! Everyone, please give it up for the amazing @saewokhrisz! 🌟🐈⬛
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Joker having kids is usually a mess, but I’m curious about the idea
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Gotta love this design choice from Batman #12. He looks like he’s posing for a magazine
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There was a thud as the yo-yo hit him square in the face. He burst into giggles.
“See that, Batsy?! A yo-yo hits harder than you! HehehehahahahaHAHAH!”
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He laughed, more Batman pictures and drawings pasted on the wall behind him.
“Personally, I prefer Batsy when he’s not experiencing a financial crisis!”
He stifled giggles as he spoke.
“After all, how’s he gonna be my sugar batty if I’ve got all the money?”
Finally, he burst into cackles, falling off his chair theatrically.
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Open RP Starter
The sirens started first.
Not close. Not yet. Somewhere several blocks away, echoing through Gotham like the city clearing its throat before it screamed.
Inside the lobby of a building somewhere in the city, the Joker stood in the middle of an expensive marble floor with his hands clasped neatly behind his back.
Three security guards were zip-tied together beside the reception desk, their mouths covered in duct tape. One of them was crying. The Joker glanced down at that one, eyes lingering on his faces as tears streaked down his cheeks. He had been telling all three of them wretched, off-kilter, painful and rotten jokes for hours. Every muffled noise of agony as he delivered more terrible punchlines was very amusing. He was ready to move on now, though, as the action outside was starting to pick up.
“Now see, that’s the thing about Gotham,” he said conversationally. “Everyone thinks the screaming happens after the bad part.”
He crouched, tilting his head.
“But really, the screaming is the warm-up.”
The guards whimpered. He patted one of them on the head in cold reassurance.
The Joker stood again, brushing imaginary dust from his purple coat, and wandered toward the shattered front doors. Police lights were beginning to bloom red and blue against the wet pavement outside. They still weren’t close, no, they were passing him; they were hunting in all the wrong places as per usual, following his silly string all around the city. Right now, he surmised, they were flying to a theatre on the Lower East Side, an abandoned one. He imagined, soon, too, he would hear an explosion as they hit that decoy.
He smiled, pulling back on his rictus grin.
“Ahh. Right on schedule. The good ole GCPD…”
He walked towards the elevators, passing the unfortunate guards on the way.
“Oh, don’t look so nervous,” he told them, irritated at their distressed sounds, “You’re not the guest of honor. Why, you might even live through this if you’re lucky! Just keep smiling…”
The Joker entered into one of the elevators and took it up to one of the higher floors, and exited. The elevator emitted a soft polite little ding that echoed down the empty hallway.
Most of the lights were off. Gotham after-hours, long after everyone had gone home, home to huddle *safely* in their apartments. He passed rows of cubicles, dark monitors, abandoned coffee cups, the stale smell of carpet cleaner and late capitalism.
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One particular office, belonging to one of the CEOs of the company, is the one the Joker has presently decided to occupy.
He unceremoniously sits in the plush swivel chair that clearly does not belong to him, muddy, rain dampened shoes kicked up on a polished desk. The chair spins lazily back and forth while he flips through a stack of paperwork he absolutely does not understand.
“…Expense reports… expense reports… more expense reports…”
A page flutters to the floor. He looks faintly offended, lip curling in disgust.
“Do you people do anything here besides move numbers around like depressed accountants?”
He decides, while he’s there and waiting, to redecorate. Spray paint on the walls goes up first on the plain off-white walls, reds, greens, the standard ‘HA HA’s and crooked sharp-toothed smiley faces. Some taunts, some jabs, some red-herrings and doodles of the GCPD exploding.
File drawers are emptied until paper carpets the floor like confetti. Someone’s tasteful corporate artwork is turned upside down and smashed. A computer tower soon lies gutted on the desk, wires hanging out like colorful intestines.
In the center of the chaos he had made out of this bland, unremarkable office The Joker looks perfectly at home.
He plucks a pen from the desk and begins signing random documents with large, theatrical strokes.
JOKER
JOKER
JOKER
The chair spins again. He starts flipping Joker cards into the wastebasket nearby, trying to aim close enough to get them inside.
“The waiiiiting is the hardest part…” he grumble-sings to himself in the silence. He checks his watch. The first decoy location should be tripped in five minutes or less.
Through the glass wall of the office, the rest of the dark floor stretches out in rows of cubicles. Quiet. Empty… except for the sudden, and faint sound of movement somewhere down the hallway.
The Joker stops spinning.
His head tilts slightly, listening harder. Oh?
“Oh good,” he says brightly to nobody in particular. “I was starting to think this place didn’t have real security.”
He leans back, completely relaxed, hands folding behind his head, sing-songing louder.
“C’mon out then, ollie ollie oxenfree!”
A widening grin slowly pulls across his already grinning face.
“Let’s see who’s stupid enough to work the night shift…”
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I see you didn’t like my last post, so here you go!
I hope you enjoyed it, my little devils.
(Sorry for cutting off the name of coat guy.)
