((OOC: Been a while.))

((Posssssssibly returning to this account? Maybe.))

#ooc
((OOC: It’s been lovely, all.))

((But I see no point in keeping this account anymore. Thank you for everything! <3))

((OOC: Been busy lately because of school and health issues.))

((I just started college and I honestly don’t know if I will have the time or energy for this particular blog. As it is, my muse is nearly dead due to a variety of things, and there is simply no point in pursuing that which is lost.

I have many other blogs you can find here, if you are interested. RP blogs included.))

#ooc
Ladybird, Ladybird

littlefinchh:

whyiuseaknife:

littlefinchh:

She’d been pushed around with such a blur that she couldn’t tell where she was or what was going on. She’d gone from crowbar, to Jon’s arms (which she hadn’t minded even in the ridiculous situation they were stuck in), to the ground. Scrambling up and stumbling forward she shook her head. “You think I’d miss this for the world?” Her head was still woozy from the gas that was now beginning to wear off. 

Taking a few steps forward the arms of a rather large fellow lifted her off the ground pressing her against his muscular chest with ease. “Little birdie ain’t goin’ no where.” He grinned crushing her into him. She could feel her ribs threatening to crack, legs swinging wildly as she tried to touch the floor.

“Jon!” She shouted desperately. 

“Shulda listened when ya had tha chance, birdie.” 

“JON.” Joker mocked in a whiny imitation of her voice. He waved his arms somewhat as his men tackled Crow to the ground and then he pounced, straddling him. He gripped rough burlap in his hands and wrenched it away, finally face to face with Crane, wide eyed and breathing hard underneath him. He smiled and poked his forehead deliberately. “Stalemate, am I right?”

He shoved his arm back and made a show of waving over one of his men. A canister pressed into his hand and he leisurely set it atop Crane’s forehead. Balancing it with one finger he said, “Wonder how wide you smile, Doctor.” He let loose a small bit of gas, and watched in elation as he began to laugh here and there.

“Turn him over,” he said, getting off of him. “Light a fire, get it hot.” He grabbed up his crowbar in a tight grip, excited, anxious. This would be fun.

It seemed to take forever as his men gathered debris from the abandoned fair grounds to raise a small fire just outside. He had one goon hold the crowbar over the fire, heating the curved iron until it smelt of metal and wood. The smoke swirled high and he dragged out Crane himself, still laughing. He threw him on the ground and had his men pin down his arms.

Crowbar turned poker, he took the makeshift brand and eyed the curved part of it, considering. He yanked up Crane’s shirt, held the metal forebodingly above his lower back and waited a breath. Then, he pressed it firmly into the skin there, and felt his joy surpass elation as Crane’s laughter turned to cries of pain.

A nice, red J would forever be burned into his skin, and he would remember who had done it to him, and what it meant. A warning, for the rest of his life. A reminder that through all the fear inflicted in his career, chaos would hover just behind him, waiting to consume everything.

It pained to see him knocked around for what she had done. Though this seemed more like revenge for something had happened years ago, before she had even come into the picture. It was tiring to struggle and so plotting was what she resorted to. Retreating to the depths of her mind she spiraled blocking the pacing Megan out completely. There were at least four men left after the ones Crane had sprayed with ammonia. Two holding down the arms of her boss, one holding her and that had disappeared, she didn’t care where too just that she had to deal with him as well. Then there was the Joker as well. He was the only one that posed a threat to her.

She could feel that they were moving, lumbering outside she felt the freedom of her wrist. Which was extremely mobile considering he gripped her biceps rather than forearm. There was heat and light, a fire. That could be advantageous. 

There was no time to plan the methods of her attack but she knew the general idea. That was all she needed, Finch worked best in the moment anyway. Her dormant state cracked at the clawing cries of pain and the sizzling of flesh. Eyes shot open revealing dilated pupils so large they nearly enveloped the entirety of her irises. Her wrist snapped around and the blade shot from it’s cuff and implanted itself into the lower abdomen of her captor. Instantly her arm jerked upwards elbowing him in the chin, the implanted blade jaggedly slicking upwards through his internal cavity. His shirt took only a moments time to become saturated with blood. He howled and dropped her to the ground. 

She landed on one knee, taking a moment to asses what she had. The thug who’d handed over the the crowbar was on her in no time, the moment she stood he was in front of her swinging punches left and right. Head snapped to the right as a sucker punch was delivered directly to her jaw. A rather large glob of congealed blood and spit into his face before kneeing him in the chest. Her leg shot up in a round house kick to the face a large thick cut swept from his ear to lip. Who ever said fighting in heels was a disadvantage had obviously never tried it.

Leaving him to claw at his cheek in pain she moved on to the men holding down her beloved. Finch launched herself into the air and propelled herself into a front hand spring. Landing once again one knee down the other poised to attack. 

The thug was caught at a disadvantage did he betray his master before he was done branding or did he protect his own life. He was dead anyway he looked at it, to be quite honest. In that time of thinking Finch had made her move. Her leg kicked sideways implanting the two inch heel of her shoes into his side before slamming her elbow down into his spine her blade quickly taking the chance to move and slice at the soft unprotected flesh of his neck. 

The last of the thugs decided to run, if they both couldn’t catch him maybe he’d make it home to his dog that night. Wrong. 

Ducking down to her boot she pulled out a throwing knife took aim and let it loose watching as the whizzing projectile implanted itself into his skull dropping him like a bird that had been hit with a stone.

She turned slowly to look down at the Joker who was smiling smugly at his work and then at her.

“It’s just you and me now.” She hissed. 

“I don’t think so Chickadee.” A large strong hand wrapped around her wrist and lifted her up by the arm holding it high above her head and raising her to his face level. She screamed in pain as she felt the joints loosen and creak. Blood dripped from his face where her heel had sliced clean into. A loud POP - POP sound echoed through the night and another cry of anguish left her lips as her elbow popped first out of socket quickly followed by her shoulder.“How does a bird defend itself when it can’t fly away?”

“With it’s talons,” She panted, jamming the blade from her left, free wrist into his eye socket sending it straight through to his frontal lobe killing him.

She dropped to the ground cradling her limp arm. “Now where were we….”

She was a feisty thing indeed. He eyed her, gauging what she was going to do next, but it was too chancy. He liked that.The lure of chance, just edging along chaos. But she was too far from it.

"Have fun, little girl. I’ve done what the doctor ordered, and gave him a little reminder Renewed our appointments, if you will." The laugh bubbled out of him happily.

He nudged Crane over with a foot as he walked past, heading for the flap of the tent. She wouldn’t do anything. He walked straight by her and began whistling.

Tonight had been a good night.

Ladybird, Ladybird

littlefinchh:

She’d been pushed around with such a blur that she couldn’t tell where she was or what was going on. She’d gone from crowbar, to Jon’s arms (which she hadn’t minded even in the ridiculous situation they were stuck in), to the ground. Scrambling up and stumbling forward she shook her head. “You think I’d miss this for the world?” Her head was still woozy from the gas that was now beginning to wear off. 

Taking a few steps forward the arms of a rather large fellow lifted her off the ground pressing her against his muscular chest with ease. “Little birdie ain’t goin’ no where.” He grinned crushing her into him. She could feel her ribs threatening to crack, legs swinging wildly as she tried to touch the floor.

“Jon!” She shouted desperately. 

“Shulda listened when ya had tha chance, birdie.” 

"JON." Joker mocked in a whiny imitation of her voice. He waved his arms somewhat as his men tackled Crow to the ground and then he pounced, straddling him. He gripped rough burlap in his hands and wrenched it away, finally face to face with Crane, wide eyed and breathing hard underneath him. He smiled and poked his forehead deliberately. “Stalemate, am I right?”

He shoved his arm back and made a show of waving over one of his men. A canister pressed into his hand and he leisurely set it atop Crane’s forehead. Balancing it with one finger he said, “Wonder how wide you smile, Doctor.” He let loose a small bit of gas, and watched in elation as he began to laugh here and there.

"Turn him over," he said, getting off of him. "Light a fire, get it hot.” He grabbed up his crowbar in a tight grip, excited, anxious. This would be fun.

It seemed to take forever as his men gathered debris from the abandoned fair grounds to raise a small fire just outside. He had one goon hold the crowbar over the fire, heating the curved iron until it smelt of metal and wood. The smoke swirled high and he dragged out Crane himself, still laughing. He threw him on the ground and had his men pin down his arms.

Crowbar turned poker, he took the makeshift brand and eyed the curved part of it, considering. He yanked up Crane’s shirt, held the metal forebodingly above his lower back and waited a breath. Then, he pressed it firmly into the skin there, and felt his joy surpass elation as Crane’s laughter turned to cries of pain.

A nice, red J would forever be burned into his skin, and he would remember who had done it to him, and what it meant. A warning, for the rest of his life. A reminder that through all the fear inflicted in his career, chaos would hover just behind him, waiting to consume everything.

Ladybird, Ladybird

adrenalinesaint:

whyiuseaknife:

“Ugh. Always obstinance.” He took the canister from the ground and with a quick jerk of his arm, managed to shove it into the mouth of one of his failing goons. He’d have died anyway, and it got rid of the gas issue. He patted his face twice with a nod of his head and went in after Crow.

He managed a few feet before he saw the flat head of a gun trained at him. His men were down, in various states of death, some moaning pathetically, some screaming from the wisps of fear gas still floating here and there in the air. Joker rolled his eyes and put his arms up in a shrug. He swung the crowbar up to rest along his shoulder.

“Looks like we’re at a bit of a stalemate.”

How advantageous that he had thought to bring a little extra oomf to his arsenal of toxicity. It had worked like a charm — and Jack had solved the unhappy issue regarding Finch’s lack of protection insofar as eyes and lungs were concerned by inflating some poor sap with the rest of the chemical fume. Poor soul. They wouldn’t even be able to call his insides human after that stuff ate through them. within, Crane mused about what a lovely little spectacle his autopsy would be, but Scarecrow hushed him with a curt laugh. Stalemate, indeed. He wouldn’t call a gun against a piece of metal a stalemate at all, but if it satisfied Jack’s ego, then why the hell not.

It would appear so.“ Infinitely pleased with himself, Scarecrow motioned with the muzzle of the loaded gun to where Finch was tethered. “Untie the girl and let her leave and I’ll put down the gun. Then it will just be me and my wits against you and your crowbar. What do you say?

The thugs all around them were down and out for the count — all pulling off their masks to claw at eyes that were liquifying in their skulls. Poor idiots. The lack of protection for their lungs then offered free reign for the residual fear toxin to go creeping into their minds and unravel their sanity while they suffocated to death on aerosol acid. Slow, horrifying, painful deaths. The air was alight with muted screams as lungs fell apart and rendered the men soundless. Oh, dear. Add that to Jonathan’s body-count. Murder was such a messy side effect to his usual prescription.

Outwit the master of crime. Either he would leave a hero amongst rogues or in a body bag. Scarecrow always was one for a bit of danger.

Stupid, stupid, idiotic, pathetic. He’d thought he won. Joker tried not to laugh as he thought of his men outside, waiting. Birds were stupid little creatures. He licked his lips and turned his back on Crow, going to the girl quickly and untieing her. He held the smiling girl close as he walked her over, cheek pressed to her sweaty, painted forehead. He held the crowbar tight across the front of her throat and when he was near enough Crow that the gun would have to go through her to reach him, he nodded for the gun to be dropped.

Behind him, Joker could see the forms of his men silently entering the tent. He smiled, signaling them that their time was near. They would pin Crow down so he could get on with his work. Remind him where he was, and who Gotham belonged to.


The Trilogy by  Eduardo Peña
Artist blog

The Trilogy by  Eduardo Peña

Artist blog

"People are recyclable."