#I too would joke about my death via clown every chance I got | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

survivingthejungle · 6 years

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never fade away; part vii

oh goodness. it’s been a hot minute since i wrote a new part to this. bear with me. i’m getting back into the swing of things.

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This was it.

The apocalypse.

Armageddon.

The End of Times.

You had been dragged inside of some abandoned warehouse, watched Jerome make a crazy speech about ‘what death was like’, and ‘how Gotham was going to be reborn into chaos’, and you watched him murder a man via explosives on live television. He grabbed you before running out of the building, pushing yourself in front of him to make you run fast enough to get out. (And also to act as a human shield in case the police were waiting for him outside.)

The city was pitch black. Never before had you been able to see more than 10 stars in the sky in Gotham; now you could easily see at least a million. Of course, the smog and air pollution was ever-present, but the city lights being cut off was quite effective in facilitating the visibility of the night sky.

You admired being able to see the natural brightness and decorations of the universe; you did not, however, appreciate the fact that it was caused by Jerome.

The boy who was seemingly determined to make your life a living hell.

To say that he was not intriguing as a concept would be lying. What’s not interesting about some 19-year-old killing his family, escaping from a prison for the criminally insane, going around a city he isn’t from and killing people every chance he gets, kidnapping 16-year-olds, and cutting off the whole power supply of said city?

You only wished you hadn’t been the poor, previously aforementioned 16-year-old. And why did he obsess over you, you wondered?

From the time you were forced to spend in the penthouse in Downtown Gotham, you could pick up on the fact that he liked your appearance and had even considered you pretty. You could also pick up on the fact that he very clearly enjoyed games. You were like a game to him. ‘Let’s see how many times I can kidnap (y/n), let’s see how long I can kidnap (y/n) this time, let’s see how many emotional scars I can leave (y/n) with this time around,’... the list went on.

“Be honest- how’s my face look?” he asked out of the blue, in the midst of a silent car ride towards what was begining to look like a suburb.

“Uh... not good.” “Hm.” He considered this. “Well, I did say ‘be honest’, so I’ll give ya that one, babe. Say- what game do you wanna play first?” “What?” you asked him.

“You know... dunk tank, balloon popping, ring tosses... name your pick, beautiful. This is your night as much as it is mine.” That confused you. “Why is that?”

“Well, because we’re finally together again! This is what people have been waiting for, isn’t it?” Theatrically, he made a sign with a free hand while steering. “Jerome and (y/n), the dynamic duo, back at it again! Hahahahaha!”

“Sure, that’s what all your cult freaks wanted. Sure isn’t what I wanted. And we aren’t a duo. And I don’t want to play carnival games. I want to go home. You can let me out here,” you tried, “I’ll walk?”

“Not gonna happen, hot stuff. You don’t get it, do you?”

“Don’t... Don’t get what?” you questioned.

“I don’t want to let you go. I don’t want to lose you again. Death made me realize a lot of things, and I intend on keeping you with me from here on out. You’re gonna stick around with me from here on out!” The car was parked now, in the driveway of some bougie-looking mansion. “I’m not gonna let you go easy this time. No one’s gonna stab me in the neck and let you go this time. You’re staying with me now kid, we’re in this for the long haul!” You were disturbed by the serious tone of his voice now.

You had a worried look plastered on your face; a reasonable reaction. You refused to look at him, instead you chose to stare down at the floor and focus on not crying. Someone will find me, you promised yourself. They won’t let this happen to me again. Someone must be looking for me. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry.

“Hey. Hey... look at me. Give me a smile, huh?” he nudged your shoulder, trying to get you to look at him. You did nothing, just tried to pull farther away from him. “Ah, you’ll get used to it after a while. It’ll be like last time, remember! You were fine eventually! We just gotta get you back in the swing of things.” “NO!” you yelled, tears beginning to fall freely now. “Don’t you understand? I was never fine! I was faking it so that you wouldn’t kill me! I was protecting myself! I never wanted to be with you! And I don’t want to be with you now! Why don’t you understand that?” You turned back from facing him and buried your face in your hands, trying to control your tears and make them stop.

Your breathing was cut short when a strong hand wrapped itself around your throat, restricting the blood flow to your brain as well as air flow to your lungs. Your head was pressed to the back of the seat of a car; you had no escape. In his eyes, you saw no emotions; well, nothing other than pure, unbridled rage. “I’m gonna let that go with a warning, babe, because I know you didn’t mean it. But if you act up like that again? Well... it’s not gonna be pretty. I can promise you that,” he spat, his face mere milimeters from yours. “Capisce?”

“Yes,” you managed to choke out, barely making a sound at all.

“Is this gonna happen again? Because you know, I’m not as patient as I used to be.” His grip loosened on your neck slightly. “No. It won’t. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me again.” You looked at him with pleading, glassy eyes, praying to God that your life would be spared for even just a day longer. He didn’t respond to this. He simply got out of the car, walked over to your side, and opened it expectantly.

“Well?” he goaded, gesturing for you to get out. As you hesitantly got out and stood up, he said, “Well, gee, (Y/N), you’re so welcome for opening the door and being so chivalrous. There’s not many gentlemen left these days.” “Thank you, Jerome,” you croaked out hoarsely. He mock bowed to you and laughed, the slits on the sides of his mouth widening grotesquely.

“Hands,” he demanded suddenly, “Put ‘em out.” You obliged carefully. He pulled a convenient rope out of his back pocket and began to tie it around your wrists. “I know you’re still not used to having me back yet. Can’t risk you tryin’ to run off, can we?” He smiled at you, like he had completely forgotten about everything else that had just happened. “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” ______________

Eventually, after chaos was wreaked at Wayne Manor, you and Bruce Wayne were both thrown into the back of Jerome’s hijacked squad car. He hightailed it to a makeshift carnival in the middle of town; just about the only place with any working electric. Once there, Bruce turned to you quickly; in the short moment Jerome had stepped out of the car, he told you, “I promise I will get us out of here.” The sincerety in his voice gave you a sliver of hope for the rest of the night; you were basically both in the same boat, and you were both trying to get out of it together.

You tried to stay mostly silent throughout the whole debacle, afraid that if you let the wrong word slip out, you might end up dying like one of the people in the awful makeshift carnival games by which you were surrounded. Even when your newest friend was suddenly faced with death-by-canon, you made sure not to make a peep. If Jerome thought you two were starting to be pals, he’d surely kill Bruce in a split second. He was possesive that way, among many other ways.

But you dropped the façade in the house of mirrors. More specifically, once Bruce broke a mirror and ripped your bindings off, before nearly killing the ginger.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, Brucie,” Jerome choked out, “Not in front of my girl, would ya please? Poor thing’ll be traumatized for the rest of her life if she sees me go again.” You knew in your heart he was probably joking, but he almost souned the slightest bit sincere every time you were a topic of conversation.

“She’s already traumatized by you, you clown,” Bruce spat at him. “(Y/N), run! Get out of here! I can handle myself!” he ordered you. You nodded and ran, making sure to not look back at the expression on the redhead’s face (or lack thereof) when you took off. Finding your way out, you were met face-to-face with Detective Gordon, as well as Bruce’s butler, Alfred, who you’d both assumed to be dead and gone by now.

“Christ, (Y/N), we need to get you out of here. We have no idea where Jerome could be right now,” Jim motioned for you to stand next to him in order for him to keep a closer eye on you.

“He’s in there, Detective Gordon, and so is Bruce Wayne. Jerome almost killed him but by the time I got free, Bruce had the upper hand. I don’t know what the status is right now, though-” and you didn’t have too, because Bruce was walking out of the same exit you had just been through, looking absolutely exhaused with his sad clown makeup still painted on. Jim, Alfred, and you all breathed a sigh of relief, before you saw the devil-boy come out with a vengeful look in his eye, and a loaded gun in his hand.

“BRUCE! Behind you!” you yelled, and Bruce managed to get out of the line of fire. Soon after this, Detective Gordon clocked Jerome in the face so hard that his... well, that is face flew off into a dirty puddle on the ground, and Jerome fell straight back as well.

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4 days later and, while you knew your life would never exactly be normal ever again, you had hoped that it wouldn’t get interrupted again for at least a while.

While walking Sadie downtown one day, you happened to pass by the GCPD at the same time that Detective Gordon was headed outside. “Oh, (Y/N)! Coincidence crossing paths with you right now; see, I’ve got a bit of bad news,” he told you.

“Oh gosh,” you responded, “What happened? Please tell me he didn’t get out again...” you pleaded to a higher power.

“No, no... but it is about him,” he informed you. “He’s been making threats, (Y/N), and he’s gone through with all of them, but he’s given us an ultimatum...” he trailed off.

“What happened, Detective?” you wondered.

“He’s been killing inmates and guards left and right. Now, there’s not much we can do, since he is already locked up, but he just offered us a deal. It’s... it’s about you.” “What about me? I’ll do it, Detective, I don’t want him to keep killing people. I’m so sick of people killing each other all of the time.” The detective sighed. “He said he’d stop, but only if you would come and see him at least once a week in Arkham. Now, before you say anything, if you agree, we’ll have plenty of armed personel with you during any visit, and a bulletproof barrier between you during every meeting. Are you okay with this?” he asked you, searching for a sign of reaction in your face.

You nodded. “I’ll do it. I’ll be okay. I can do it,” you told him. “I can do it,” you said once more, this time to yourself.

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hi friendos. it has been a long ass time (as i have already mentioned i know)

i have had this stuck in my drafts waiting to be finished for about a month. im the literal worst. i know. please accept this as my apology.

in other news?? the newest episode has got me FUCKED ALL THE WAY UP like damn. all my boys be lookin fine as hell on these thursday nights. god bless amen hallelujah i’m tired and i just got back from spring break so forgive me if this is bad i love u all.

u kno da drill. feedback is welcome, encouraged, and appreciated

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