#oeuvreofashes
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i request a fic where he joker straight up drinks bleach/acid just to see what would happen and what happens is batman has to cart his stupid ass to the emergency room. i request this because i did this today
I want you to know that I was gonna spend my evening reading this comic update I was excited for but I’m writing this instead because I want you to have someone to relate to in this trying time also next time please don’t challenge god
(also this is an AU bc I’ve already written one fic where Joker consumes bleach and he was fine. The fic is here.)
Warnings for this - Joker being a fool who has drunk bleach but for non suicidal reasons, puking
“Why would you do that?”
Joker looks up from the plastic bag he’s been vomiting into. He’s pretty sure that it’s sprung a leak and is ruining the leather upholstery. Serves the Bat right, this car is far too swanky to go round scooping up clown in, what was he thinking?
“Why did I do what?” Joker asks.
The Bat takes his eyes off the road for a millisecond to spare Joker the kind of withering look that’s entirely inappropriate to use on guests in one’s vehicle. “Why did you drink that bottle of bleach.”
“Oh man, that’s a tough one. Can I phone a friend?”
“You are impossible!” The Bat growls, thumping a hand on the steering wheel that looks like it was made for Jokers gut.
They can’t be having that. All attempts to knock Joker’s lights out should be aimed directly at him. He makes a mental note to chastise the black caped idiot just as soon as he’s finished unloading another round of his dinner into the bag.
The Bat wrinkles his nose. It’s hilarious, you can see his face trying to creep up and vanish under the mask. Joker tries to laugh but his throat feels all raw and slippery and refuses to latch on to the sound.
“I just...I don’t...why would you try to kill yourself?” Batsy sounds all kinds of tired.
Shaking his head, Joker sticks a finger in his ear and tries to dislodge whatever it is that’s stuck in there making sounds all wonky. “Why did I what now?”
“Try to kill yourself!” The Bat repeats. “With the bleach.”
“You’re really hung up on that bleach thing, huh?” Joker belches and a gob of bile falls into his lap. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself. You know the saying, the Gandhi quote - do or do not, there is no try. If I was gonna top myself I wouldn’t fuck about with unpredictable chemical reactions.”
“Drinking bleach is hardly an unpredictable chemical reaction.”
“Maybe not for you! I’m built of sterner stuff though, old Batsy me lad. You never can tell what exciting new concoction is going to roll right off my back.”
“Well whatever this is doing, it’s certainly not rolling off your back.” The Bat reaches down the side of his seat and passes Joker a fresh plastic bag. “You don’t look like you’re going into toxic shock. You’re not going into toxic shock, right?”
“Are you?”
Batsy slumps back in his chair but he doesn’t let up off the gas pedal. Now that Joker’s bothering to pay attention to that sort of thing, he can feel that they’re moving at a pretty pace. The lights of the city blur into nothingness out the window, and though he’s pretty positive they’re right in the heart of Midtown, the streets seem to be more or less clear.
The streets are no doubt lined with gormless fools staring at the black mass of this stupid beautiful car, thinking that their precious Batman is on his way to save someone’s life.
Joker ties off the first bag of vomit and places it nearly at his feet where it immediately starts to seep into the foot well. He gives himself five minutes alone with the fresh plastic bag before asking where they’re going.
“You just drank bleach! You haven’t stopped throwing up in more than half an hour and your throat sounds wrecked!” Batsy says, as if that’s an answer to his question.
Joker shrugs. “So?”
“So, I’m taking you to Gotham General.”
“What can those eggheads do for me?”
“I...don’t know.” The Bat runs a hand over his face. “I have no idea. But I can’t do anything for you.”
“Nonsense, Batsy! You gotta talk about these things, that’s what they make people do after they try to kill themselves, right?”
The Bat casts Joker another glance, this one equal parts worried and frustrated. If Joker had known it would be this easy to wind him up he would have drunk a bottle of bleach years ago. “I thought you just said that you weren’t trying to kill yourself.”
“I wasn’t, but they’re gonna pretend I was so I figured I might as well get into character.”
It’s possible to hear Batsy grinding his teeth over the roaring of the engines. “You are impossible, you know that?”
Joker works himself up to a grin and spits out the first strangled fragments of a laugh. “Honey, I can’t be impossible. I’m right here, possibling right at you.”
“I’m going to have to knock you out cold to stop you assaulting the doctors, aren’t I?”
“But of course! I drunk a bottle of bleach, Bats. It didn’t wash my natural charm away.”
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wow ashes @oeuvreofashes i didnt know you had a cameo in this game
#it's been years and i still cant spell your goddamn url#oeuvreofashes#ricky plays shit#liveblogging dream daddy#they called him a low-rent gerard way how D A R E
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this is a real post I read with my own two eyes
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@oeuvreofashes‘s post gives me life, I need to make an edit and realise it.
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@oeuvreofashes and @eyeballing I really appreciate your comments on my posts, they're funny. So thanks :)
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Hey mutuals please read
If you reblog anything from oeuvreofashes please tag it as their name. I don't know if I just don't "GET" their sense of humor or what but I don't agree with them and the way they act doesn't sit well with me and seeing them on my dash gives me anxiety so please tag their posts. No hate or ill will to anyone I'm sure they are a swell human but I'm just not into them thanks.
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16 painful transformation
(everything is painful when ur trapped in ur own hellscape)
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prompt: the joker intentionally mispronounces "batman" for an entire month and refuses to acknowledge that he's doing it when bruce confronts him about it
Do you know how hard it is to think of a way someone could mispronounce ‘batman’ jfc
Warnings for Joker doing some murders
“So I said to the guy ‘No way! Batman goes out dressed like that because he likes it.’ Do you get it?”
The audience look up at him with something that looks horribly like fear and not at all like they’re coughing their lungs up over Joker’s joke. It’s their loss, he supposes, it’s a very good joke, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to let them get away with it.
He stamps his foot and the hollow stage makes the most wonderful booming sound. He likes it so much that he does it again, and again, till he develops a steady rumble that has the idiots trembling where they sit.
Joker has to stop eventually, with a flourish that recieves only a modicum of applause. He snatches the first person he can find out of the audience, a skinny little thing with the most wonderfully wide, terrified eyes. “Tell me, kid. What exactly was so bad about that last joke.”
The first time they try to reply they mumble and he has to shake them hard to get a proper sound out of them. “W-we...we don’t know who Bart Mayne is. Mister Joker sir.”
“Please, mister Joker was my father.” Joker chides with a sharp bop to the head that knocks them out. “As for the rest of you, what are you smoking? Who the hell is Bart Mayne? It was a Batman joke.”
Silence, followed by one of those coughs that travels around the room like the world’s least deadly parasite. When someone does find the guts to speak up they’re sat right at the back of the room where he cant throw spit soaked paper towels at them. Rude. “You just said the same thing.”
Some people are just too stupid to be worth arguing with, so Joker doesn’t bother. He lights a few fires on his way out of The Chucklehouse Comedy Club and figures that the bat can take it from there.
-
Tommy is quite a good little henchman. If by ‘little’’ you mean six feet and two inches of muscle and daddy issues. He likes being told that he’s done a good job and he likes having a stack of cash to take home at the end of a scheme. It’s a simple life, but curse his caring nature, Joker’s got a soft spot for him.
“Just you and me this time, Tommy. But we gotta be smart about it, so that when old bat brain shows up he thinks there’s at least twenty guys in the room. Just imagine - he’ll be running around like a headless chicken trying to find all the guys who aren’t there!” Joker slaps his thigh ad indulges in a hearty guffaw. He’s earned it. It’s a very good mental image.
Tommy laughs too, like the good boy he is. “Good one, Mister J.”
“If we play our cards right, some kid will swing by with a smartphone and catch the whole thing. Then all of Gotham will know what an idiot that Batman really is.”
Bless his heart, Tommy is still smiling even though he’s doing his best impression of a confused goldfish. “But Mister J, I thought we were going after Batman.”
“We are going after Batman.”
“So who’s Bart Mayne?”
On second thoughts, Tommy’s really nothing special. Joker finds the nearest skewer and sticks it up his nose to get at the brain, Egyptian style. Unfortunate, but what can you do? He really can’t be blamed if the whole town’s going deaf.
-
This is gonna be so cool. Movie style, plenty of atmosphere for the non existent cameras. The scene is soaked in rain, the goons Two Face hired to carry out his less symmetrical work suitably duffed up, sporting a fine selection of broken bones and bloody noses.
Joker raises his gun to the lead goon’s temple, lead by example and all that. “When Batman gets here, tell him Joker sent you?”
“Why are you saying his name like that?” One of the idiots sobs, flexing pathetically against his bindings, as if a broken arm is a good reason to forget your escapology.
Joker blinks rain out of his eyes. “Batman’s name! Why do you keep saying Brt Mayne?”
“Come now! If I were saying Bart Mayne, how would you know I wad talking about Batman?”
“You put it on the sign! Right next to a picture of the batsignal!” Another protests.
joker squints at the handy sign he wrote to help the Bat make sense of this scene. It’s mostly washed away in the rain but sharpie has a certain indelible something that holds on long after the top layer of ink has washed away.
He gestures towards it with the gun. “What are you talking about? B-A-R-T-M-A-Y-N-E. That spells Batman. I know because I saw it on Sesame Street.”
“You’re still saying it wrong.” The lead good spits around a mouthful of misplaces teeth.
Joker shuts him up with a bullet to the brain. After that no one has much to say about the way he says anything.
-
It takes three weeks to track The Joker down. He’s either getting smarter or the people who shelter him are starting to build up some long term loyalty. Bruce converges on the Chinatown safehouse he knows the clown is hiding in, coming in low and silent so that when he knocks down the door, any prospective henchmen won’t have time to breathe before he’s on them.
Only there are no henchman. There isn’t much of anything, there isn’t even a bed. What there is, is a rather placid looking Joker with his bowtie discarded and his sleeves rolled up, pouring over the blueprints of something scattered across he floor by candlelight. “Well hello, darling! I was wondering when you were going to drop by.”
“Come quietly, there’s no need to make a mess.” Bruce growls. It won’t work, but he feels better for trying.
“Oh but Bats, you know how I love mess. I think, maybe, everyone loves mess, or at least, they love the messes we make. Bart Mayne and The Joker, painting the town red. is that an insensitive joke? I just figure, we’re in Cinatown and all and the Chinese ate a bunch of commies marching under a red flag-”
“Why did you- Is that why people have been saying my name weirdly?” Bruce cuts him off.
Joker looks very put out at having been interrupted. “Rude! And like what? Who’s been saying your name weirdly? I want to congratulate them on their incredible joke.”
“I don’t...I think...you...My name’s not Bart Mayne!”
“Well, obviouslynot. It’s Bart Mayne.”
Bruce sorely hopes that the clown can’t see that he’s closed his eyes beneath the cowl while he tries not to fly off the handle over this one. “I’m taking you to Arkham.”
Joker blows a long loud raspberry. “Jeez, Barts. Learn to laugh every now and then.”
#batjokes#but not really#batjokes fic#joker fic#request#otp: till death do us part#oeuvreofashes#ask
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new prompt: joker goes to another mcdonalds to get another burger. but then, BAM, batman arrives!!!!!!!!!!!! he is there to stop joker from getting a burger
Is this gonna be a Thing where you just ask for lots of Joker at McDonalds fic?
The Amusement Mile branch will always be his first love, but there’s a lot to be said for the jungle gym in the Diamond District McDonalds. After the first few tries when the staff so rudely tried to tell him that he was ‘too old’ for it he’s finally managed to convince everyone to clear off, leaving him with the whole arrangement of climbing gear and ball pit to himself.
“Oi, someone get me a McBurger!” Joker hollers as he skids down the slide onto a satisfyingly squishy plush shape that had been left behind by the retreating crowds.
No one confirms his order and no one rushes over to hand him his food. (They can do that, ya know? They have rows and rows of the stuff all stacked up along the back behind the counter). At first he thinks that they’re all too chicken to stay in the same room as him, a common affliction of the type of person who frequents these restaurants, but when he goes to the edge of the safety netting to get a better look at what he assumes will be empty tables he’s met with a rather lovely surprise.
They’re dead. All of them, eyes bulging out of their heads, tongues lolling out of their mouths where they’ve face planted right into their dinner. One of the little toys that comes with the children’s meals has lost its mind and started cycling through a series of irritating beeps.
Joker decides to let it keep beeping until he’s really worked up, then he’ll march out there and take every McBurger in the place. Even the ones with dead kiddy drool in them. He’ll just shove them all in a big bin bag and sneak them back to his hideout to make himself thoroughly sick sometime between now and whenever he next feels like leaving the house.
Just as the beeping is reaching peak infuriation levels, the front door of the restaurant clicks open. Joker watches as a large black shape comes drifting inside.
“What are you doing here?” He snaps, and promptly starts trying to climb the netting to get out there and teach that useless flying rodent an important lesson. It’s hard though, the netting appears to be stuck to the ceiling and he’s going to have to chew his way through if he wants to make a break for it.
The Bat meanwhile, useless goody two shoes that he is, marches over and enters the play area through the door. He thinks he’s so smart.
“Joker!” The Bat calls up to him, his vice is muffled by a gas mask he has shoves over his mouth that makes him look like some sort of cyber bat from the future. It’s all very funny, and Joker can hardly be blamed if he maybe stops chewing long enough to laugh it out and winds up getting dragged away from the netting before he can regain his composure.
“Where are you taking me? I wanna see my lawyer!” Joker barks as he’s hoisted over the Bat’s shoulder and removed, quite against his will from the premises.
“There’s been a gas leak, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Is that what all the dead bodies are about?”
“That would have something to do with it, yes.”
“Well at least let me grab a McBurger before we leave.” Joker reasons, he stretches out, trying to reach for the counter which is rapidly getting further away from him in a very obliging manner.
“No burgers today, Joker.” The Bat says as they leave the McDonalds.
Joker’s gonna absolutely ream this guy in court.
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prompt: the joker goes to a burger king thinking its a mcdonalds
I had to look up the burger king menu to write this I hope you’re happy. Also I have no idea if McDonalds burgers and Burger King burgers are different so I made some stuff up.
“Heya, can I get a McBurger over here?” Joker has to fight to get the attention of the serving kid behind the counter. He may be spending too much time innocuously eating dinner in fast food joints, people are really starting to lose their mortal fear of him.
The kid - a young guy who looks like he works shifts here to fund a burgeoning Warhammer painting career - waves him down. “I’ll get to you soon, sir.”
Sir! The cheek of it. Joker growls under his breath. Only the serving girl who lacks the fear of death up at the Amusement Mile joint gets away with being so polite to him.
Still, Joker can be nothing but patient when he desires to be. He’d say everyone in the room has about ten minutes before he throws a hunger tantrum. Then they’ll all be sorry.
Evidently he misjudged his patience because it takes the kid four thousand years to get to him. “What can I do for you, sir?”
Again with the sir thing. Joker throws up his hands in despair. “I already told you! A McBurger - pronto! I’m a very hungry boy.”
“What kind of burger?”
Joker blinks at him, aghast. “A McBurger!”
“Ok, but what kind of burger?”
“I just told you what kind of burger!”
“We have an extensive menu, sir. Perhaps you’d like to review the options.” The kid’s eye is twitching like he thinks he’s having his patience tried.
Joker decides to take pity on him and not bring his head down on the counter hard enough to knock his teeth out. He might be new, after all. He might have the makings of a Girl From The Amusement Mile McDonalds yet. “Just get me something beefy and full of sauce.”
The McBurger he is served is much wider and flatter than he’s used to. Joker eyes it suspiciously as he leaves the counter. The kid is yammering away at him, something about how he has to pay. It all sounds very boring and fake. Paying is totally optional when receiving goods and services.
From the moment he bites into the paper, Joker knows there’s something wrong with this McBurger. The bun is too squidgy and pickle isn’t pickly enough. He scowls down at the offending mess, sauces all two shades off the right colour, and tries to work out how on Earth anyone could have gotten this so spectacularly wrong.
He turns and heads back to the counter. “That’ll be two dollars, please.” The kid is giving him a very uncharitable look.
“Two dollars? For this piece of crap? Kid, look here, I have great respect for the McDonalds worldwide evil overlords but you can’t expect me to maintain that respect if you go around serving subpar crap like this.”
The kid frowns. “Sir, this is a Burger King.”
“Yes, yes. McDonalds are the king of the McBurgers.” Joker agrees. “But you see-”
“Sir, you misunderstand.” The kid snaps. Like full on snaps. Like ‘I need to speak to the manager about your behaviour’ snaps. “This is a Burger King. McDonalds is a different chain.”
For a moment, the sheer ridiculousness of what the kid has said leaves Joker paralysed. Before he can regain control of his shellshocked body, he loses his grip on the not-McBurger and it splatters all over the front of his suit. “Right, that does it. Everyone in here’s getting merced.”
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THE JOKER GOES TO MCDONALDS TO GET A BURGER AND HE GETS A BURGER AND HE EATS THE BURGER INSIDE THE MCDONALDS AND WALKS OUT
Just for you Ashes because you physically need this to survive and you not being dead is generally preferable
“What can I get you, sir?”
The girl at the counter is a modern marvel, she doesn’t even blink when Joker graces her with his best public speaking smile. Which is strange, because the last time he smiled at the mayor she shat her pants right there in the middle of downtown. This girl working at the Amusement Mile Maccy D’s though, she’s got balls of steal.
The menu is picked out above her head in a series of delightfully garish colours, along with a tacked on poster advertising something called ‘special Gotham McNuggets deal’.
“Why Mcuggets, eh? What are they putting in ‘em that they need a shiny new name? Just call them chicken nuggets, why dontcha?” Joker sticks out his elbow in the hope of digging a fellow customer in the side but it would appear that in the span of time it’s taken him to decide that the menu would look fantastic strung up over his bed, they’ve all vanished.
“Company branding.” The girl drones. “Sir, can I please take your order.”
“My order? You can’t handle my order!”
“If you aren’t going to purchase any food, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Yeah, you and what army?”
The girl turns her mouth up into a derogatory sneer. And people say kids these days have no manners. “Just pick something to eat, mister.”
He doesn’t mean to laugh, but this chick’s just so outrageously spunky. Joker would make a comment about how they don’t make them like this anymore but evidently they do and the result is standing, fully formed and without the stomach for bullshit, right in front of him.
“You know what? I’ve been craving meat patties all day. Or all week. When did I last eat? Anyways, you got a McBurger kicking around back there.”
“One Big Mac coming up.” The girl huffs, moving over to the till. “You want fries with that?”
“Blegh, no thank you. Who wants flies in their McBurger? I suppose bats eat flies, mind. So if the Big Guy’s stopping by on the regular I can see why you might wanna keep your options open.”
The girl shakes her head minutely, almost too small to make out. If Joker were in a less forgiving mood he might make her say sorry for being so rude to a paying customer (and he is paying, he found a twenty just lying in some guy’s pocket earlier that afternoon if you can believe it) but he’s very hungry and the little paper parcel she hands him in return for the note smells like it needs to be the centre of his attention for the next five minutes.
“Your change!” The girl calls after Joker as he skips over to the window to set up shop and give the world a show as he chows down on this scrumptious morsel.
“Keep it!”
The paper is an interesting addition to the bread and meat so carefully tucked within, but it’s an addition Joker can get behind. It’s harder to chew than anything else in his McBurger but that just ups the ante, adds a little bit of a challenge to the relatively dull experience of having to feed oneself to avoid starvation. He can see why this place is so popular. Once he’s gotten a decent bits out of it, all sorts of interesting sauces start oozing out from the centre of the bun when he squeezes and he spends a happy few minutes wiping these all over the window.
Someone starts asking him to please not do that but they soon give up, deciding that he’s been nice enough to clear our the store for them and paid them handsomely for their services. That does sound like him, he’s a very generous person.
Joker finishes up his strange, papery dinner and heads back out to the street, where a surprisingly large number of cop cars are waiting for him. “Aww, you boys really came out for little old me? I should warn you, I’ve just had my dinner so I’m at full power. We’re talking over nine thousand here boys, you might wanna watch yourselves.”
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oeuvreofashes replied to your post “when the person you like likes you back and thinks you’re pretty and...”
ur a geek im gonna shove u in a locker
i’ll pull you in with me
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oeuvreofashes reblogged your link and added:
i hate this fic so much i wish u were dead
you must wait many years for your wish to come true but as it is a christmas wish it will indeed come to pass
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hes. lovin. it. give him a burg
i gave it him
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LET HIM INTO THE MCDONALDS!!!!!!!!!!!! LET HIM INTO THE MCDONALDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LET HIM HAVE THE MCBURGER AND LET HIM HAVE IT HIS WAY
he went. he got what he wanted. he ate the paper. he’s a fool
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