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Batman v Superman Dawn of Justice 2016

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Fearing the actions of a god-like Super Hero left unchecked, Gotham City’s own formidable, forceful vigilante takes on Metropolis’s most revered, modern-day savior, while the world wrestles with what sort of hero it really needs. And with Batman and Superman at war with one another, a new threat quickly arises, putting mankind in greater danger than it’s ever known before.

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JARED LETO SAYS HE WAS “TRICKED” INTO PLAYING THE JOKER. SAYS “FUCK WARNER BROTHERS”!

After many of his scenes were cut and the final film was panned by critics, Jared Leto has publicly said that he was tricked into taking the part by Warner Brothers because the movie and role they pitched to him was nothing like what they actually made. He said they pitched the movie to be much more artistic. When asked about his DCEU contract by a fan, he simply said “fuck them”.

All Monsters Are Human [The Joker x Reader] Oneshot.

This is weird. Just embrace the weirdness.


Title: All Monsters Are Human

Pairing: Joker x Reader (hints of Joker x Reader x Harley Quinn)

Summary: Arkham wasn’t just a place designed for crazy people, it was place designed to drive you crazy.

Spoilers/Speculations based on Batman v. Superman.

Originally posted by who-the-hell-is-buck-barnes

You had called Arkham Asylum home for far too long. The days had become weeks, then months, then years until all of them muddled together and you lost count.

It was hard to remember a time you weren’t locked behind bars. The memories of your escapades in Gotham had begun to fade. You were growing increasingly stir crazy in your cell as time went on.

Ivy had her plants to distract her. You envied her that. You weren’t allowed any extraneous items. Not after the last time you used some reading glasses to pick the lock to your cell. The guards seemed truly shocked at your escape attempt. You had to be crazy to try and break out of Arkham.

But crazy you were, otherwise you wouldn’t have been locked up in Gotham’s infamous asylum.

You were too smart for your own good. Your father always said it would get you into trouble one day. After university, you found yourself enthralled by the sciences. Most people aspired to cure diseases. You ended up creating a few.

Catching the eye of Dr. Jonathan Crane had been your proudest moment. Aiding him in his creation of his Fear Toxin had been thrilling. Being caught by a man dressed as a bat had been a low point.

Crane had used the distraction caused by your capture to escape. He was still free while you rotted away. He should consider himself lucky that you had failed at your attempted jailbreak. He was due a gruesome death for his betrayal.

You spent the first few months in Arkham thinking of all the ways you planned to torture and kill Crane. It was a way to pass the time. But it got old fast, and now you were left without even those pleasant thoughts for company.

The solitude ate away at you.

Arkham wasn’t just a place designed for crazy people, it was place designed to drive you crazy.

There would be screams throughout the day and night. You would bury your head in your pillow when the shouting started. It became routine.

And then one day it stopped.

You had noticed the arrival of a new prisoner earlier that day, but had paid little attention. People were in and out of Arkham as fast as the Bat could catch them and the court could release them.

But ever since the newcomer’s arrival, a curious quiet surrounded you, broken only by excited whispers. Whoever it was had to be a big deal, one of Gotham’s most notorious. You supposed it could have been Penguin, he had certainly earned his spot in the asylum, and he had a way of demanding respect. Maybe it was Catwoman, and the men around you were imagining themselves a little love stricken.

You were wrong.

In the distance you could hear his laugh, broken and dark, and you knew. The Joker.

Life had suddenly gotten more interesting.

The next day you were escorted from your cell to the resident psychiatrist’s office. Some new girl named Quinzel wanted to evaluate you. You were more interested in catching a glimpse of the newest resident.

As you passed his cell, you snuck a peek inside, surprised to see him meet your eyes with a steely gaze. You only looked away once the guards gave you an annoyed shove and told you to move. You could hear his pleased chuckle in the distance.

Your sessions with Dr. Quinzel were dull. You never were one for introspection and she appeared distracted.

After one session had come to an end, she hesitated to call the guard to collect you. Slipping you a small piece of paper, she glanced nervously at the door before giving you a small smile. “From Mister J,” she whispered.

You palmed the note and she called for the guard.

When you got back to your cell and the guards were no longer in view, curiosity got the better of you and you unfolded the paper.

I love your work, big fan

You felt strangely elated at the unexpected praise. Dr. Crane was never one for compliments. He liked deadlines and preciseness. Emotions weren’t welcome in science.  

This strange little game of courtship, for lack of a better word, continued for a time. You’d catch glimpses of him here and there. His intense stare and manic grin intrigued you.

You were drawn to his smile, as gruesome as it was fascinating. His mouth gleamed with the metal that had now replaced his teeth.

“The Bat broke his teeth,” Dr. Quinzel admitted with an angry hiss. “After Mister J killed that kid. What’d they call him? Robin.” She shook her head. “Batman tortured him. Some hero he is.”

You were slightly amused by her obvious fixation on the Joker. Not that you didn’t understand, he was pretty captivating. But then again, you were a certified nutcase. You were starting to think the good doctor was too.    

A couple weeks later, Dr. Quinzel slipped you another note before sending you back to your cell. This one simply read:

The party’s about to start

You could only sit and wait.

Two days later the sound of gunshots echoed off the walls of Arkham. You slipped from your resting place and sauntered to the door of your cell, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was happening.

Shouting and screams filled the air. The guards were panicking and the inmates were hollering in excitement. The shots were rapid fire, not the standard issue pistols the guards had holstered to their belts. It sounded like a machine gun, you mused.

You caught a glimpse of some of your neighboring inmates running freely through the halls and you growled, slamming your fist against the door in frustration. Why were you still locked up while those morons ran free?

You heard an amused tsk to the right of you and were eye to eye once again with the Clown Prince of Crime.

“Now, now,” he drawled, shaking a taunting finger at you, “patience.”

“Get me out of here,” you demanded, but he merely grinned.

“Say the magic word…” he sing-songed.

“Please,” you muttered through gritted teeth.

“That’s not it,” he teased, now waving the key to your personal prison just out of your reach. “Try again.”

“I’m going to kill you if you don’t unlock that damn door,” you spat.

Joker threw his head back, laughing. “Ding, ding, ding! I like you, so fiery!” he cackled, as he finally slid the key into the lock and turned it. You reveled in the sound of the bolts giving way.

You pushed the door away from you, leaving it wide open. You wanted nothing more than to run into the melee, to freedom, but your mind still had you trapped.

His hand, so pale it nearly shone in the dark, entreated you. “Come on, baby,” his voice was temptingly low.

Your fingers danced along his palm and he took your hand in an unforgiving grip, pulling you towards him violently. Your body met his roughly and your heart pounded with excitement.

“It’s time to play,” he leered, his smile too wide and his eyes too bright. You could hear Dr. Quinzel yelling in the distance.

His grin managed to widen. “I can’t wait to show you my toys.”

The tiny bit of your conscience that remained told you to flee, but you stamped it down without a second thought. It was time you had some fun. And after fun would come revenge.