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thirsty4theextraordinary · 5 years ago

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Everything Burns - Chapter 7

Pairing: Ledger Joker X OC

Warnings: Blood, Violence, Death, Murder

Word count: 3909 (Long Chapter, Sorry Guys :S)

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 l Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Chapter 7: The Meeting

The rest of the night was strange, to say the least. They sat in near silence in costume, Joker flicked through the channels without much reasoning. He didn’t speak to her but would laugh at TV every once in a while. She tried to talk to him a few times but he didn’t seem interested and would only give her limited answers. She questioned him about tomorrow's meeting but again he told her no more than he should go. He would look at her when he thought she wasn’t watching, it was like he was testing her or maybe he was testing himself.

She felt like she was waiting for something to happen but it never came. Eventually the Joker settled on a tear-jerker movie about a dying man, Joker cackled at the character's misery.

Around midnight she yawned and The Joker looked at her strangely as though he too was waiting for something, waiting for her to do something maybe. She wondered now if this had been her chance and she had wasted it, but it felt so strange just sitting here like this, and she was so used to him taking charge of every situation they had ever had. But then again this was the longest they had ever spent together so maybe she should feel flatter he was even her at all.

"I need to go to bed soon" she muttered, stifling another yawn and he simply nodded turning his head back to whatever was on the TV now.

"Do you want to go to sleep?" she asked trying to gauge if he wanted her to offer him her bed, or if he would sleep on the sofa.

"No," he said, simply not even looking at her.

She stood from the sofa and felt his arm brush against her side, she looked down to where he was fingering the material of her waistcoat again. She stood still for a moment unsure of how to respond. Finally, he looked up at her and ran his hand along her arm to her hand, he held it in front of his face for a second before he planted a kiss on the back of it like he had done before. It was intense, his eyes staring up at her as he placed the kiss to her hand, sending shock waves up her arm.

"Goodnight, Jester," he said softly looking up at her, but before she could reply or even respond, his head had turned back to the TV and his hand had left hers. She headed to bed and left her bedroom door open, she washed the clown make-up from her face and got herself ready for bed, she peered down the hallway towards the living room, he still sat his back to her as he watched the TV.

She crawled into bed and for a long time, she lay staring at the ceiling listening to the muffled sounds of the TV down the hall. Eventually, sleep consumed her and she drifted off into a fitful state worrying, what tomorrow would bring and if she had missed her chance.

It was around 3 am, he woke from his place on her sofa, the TV was still on and he looked around. For a second he forgot she had gone to bed hours ago, he stood stretching his back and wiping the drool from his chin. He made his way to the bathroom, as he was about to enter he peered into what he knew to be Scarlett's bedroom opposite the bathroom. He walked over and looked inside, she lay tangled in her sheets with one leg over the mound of the duvet and the other under it. Her hair was even more dishevelled than before, and her long legs were bare apart from the pair of pyjama shorts she was wearing. Something deep inside of him growled, but he saw no need to act on his urges just yet. She was his now, he had time. He returned to the bathroom. Tonight he had tested her, and she had passed. She hadn’t rushed him and showed nothing more than curiosity, but most of all he had not wanted to leave her.

When morning came Scarlett stretched out the painful kinks in her back and stood from her bed. She peered around half expecting him to be in the bed with her, the TV was still on and so she made her way towards the sound.

He was sat on the end of the corner sofa, watching the TV. His make-up looked fresh, and she was sure looking at his fingers that he had only just applied it. She wondered if he even had slept.

"Morning," she said sleepily and he looked up to her grinning wildly. He rushed towards her and she was too sleepy to react. Suddenly he was so close to her that she had to look up to see his face. He wore an expression reminiscent of an excited puppy. He pulled at her pyjama top and she took in a breath. For a moment the pair just stared at each other. He bent his head as though to kiss her, his lips inches from hers and she closed her eyes at the movement but then he was gone, turning away from her and throwing himself back down on the coach. She blinked for a second, feeling slightly like a fool. It had all happened so fast she couldn’t be sure that she hadn’t imagined it all.

"Coffee?" she asked her voice far weaker than before, turning on the machine but he simply shook his head. He didn’t sleep, didn’t drink or was he even human at all.

She set her cup under the coffee maker and began to put some cat food down for Puddin who was currently licking the paint off of The Joker’s hand.

"Joker," she said warily realising suddenly this was the first time she had ever addressed him.

He looked up at her from his seat again.

"Where are we going today?" she asked her nerves for the day ahead, beginning to settle in. She had no idea what to expect or what was being expected of her. Of course having grown up the daughter of a drug baron she was no stranger to fighting and killing people had never bothered her but still her mind was racing, The Joker was so much more than any other criminal she had ever met.

"We are going to a meeting the mob are having. I have a little proposition for them, we are meeting some of my boys there," he said simply and she nodded her head nervously. This wasn’t as much as she needed but it would have to suffice.

"Don't look so worried Jester, I'm gonna look after you. Plus you'll have your own gun" he said and she only nodded again.

"Have you ever used a gun?" he asked standing up from his seat and looking curiously at her.

"Yeah a few times, my dad taught me when I was little, that and how to kill," she said and The Joker grinned madly.

"Good old daddy oh" he chimed and she only laughed.

When 11 o'clock rolled around she decided to get her 'costume' on. She was nervous, how she was expected to act around The Joker's 'boys'. She decided confidence was the best way forward, that had always worked when she had been introduced to her father’s ‘associates’. She smiled at herself in the mirror as she applied the last touches to her makeup and pulled her hair up into a messy bun onto the top of her head. Allowing it to fall unevenly as she pulled on her hat. Somehow her new costume brought her a sense of confidence.

As she entered the living room, fully ready, the Joker looked her up and down, wolf whistling loudly. She was glad they were going in the middle of the day that way very few of her neighbours would see her dressed this way. She wasn’t ready for Jester to be found just yet, she was really falling in love with her new identity.

"Ready," he said standing and pulling on his purple jacket, she simply nodded. He led her out to a grey van with blacked out windows and she climbed into the passenger seat as he started the engine. His driving reminded her of a boy racer who had finally passed his test. It was erratic and fast, but it was strangely funny as she was nearly thrown out of her seat as he suddenly made a left turn. She laughed madly as they raced around the streets of Gotham.

The Joker's boys consisted of a group of two wanted felons and one previous Arkham patient. They picked them up at a meeting place under the overpass. Jerry the Arkham patient was a slim black man with corn rounds and he whispered to himself as he sat in the back, but he seemed in awe of The Joker and became deadly silent when 'the boss' spoke.

"Boys, this is Jester, she is the second in command now, after me, do what she says, or well you know the deal," shrugged The Joker as though he hadn’t just threatened them with death. The other two, Dean and Kyle who were large burly men, climbed into the back of the van and shut the door behind them. No one seemed to argue with the change in the hierarchy and nobody spoke much after that.

It didn't take long to arrive, The Joker pulled the van over, hitting the curb slightly and stopping so forcefully Scarlett nearly fell into the dashboard. They parked up outside what appeared to be a commercial kitchen; it seemed derelict and abandoned. But Jester knew the signs of a mob hideout, she had encountered them many times during her growing up.

"Right, I'm gonna go in, Jester you keep watch by that door and I'll go in via the back, as for the rest of you keep an eye. If Jester calls you come in guns blazing, if not have the engine running" said The Joker before he handed Jester an automatic gun and quickly jumped out of the van.

Dean moved to take the driver seat. Jester jumped out and looked at where the Joker had just disappeared. She hurried off towards the door he had told her to go to.

Inside she could see what appeared to be some kind of industrial kitchen, stainless steel counters and stark white walls. Although the kitchen obviously hadn’t been used for a while as the thick layer of dust lay across the surfaces and the pots were obviously unused for a long time.

Just a little way inside the room was a set of double doors, as quietly as she could, she pulled open the door. It opened up into a long corridor that has a wooden floor and a very different feel to the kitchen area. Opposite her was another set of double doors. Quietly she snatched up a heavy steel pipe she found on the floor, and wedged it to hold the first set of doors open. She stood waiting in the doorway, her heart beating out of her chest as she peered into the window of the next set of doors.

Inside the room opposite her was a long grey table along both sides sat an array of well known Gotham gangsters, including the only one she recognised Salvatore Maroni. He sat his boys standing behind him warily, none appeared to be armed. Though it was just past midday the room had no windows and so held a strange coldness to it, lit only with harsh fluorescent tube lighting.

At the end of the long table, a TV was being placed and it was quickly turned on. She spotted a glimpse of purple at the other end of the room hidden in the darkness, she knew he was waiting for the right moment.

"What the hell is this?!" said the mobster next to Maroni as he motioned to the TV with a loose hand.

But the TV was already on and an Asian man's face appeared on the screen looking at them all.

"As you are all aware one of our deposits was stolen a relatively small amount, 68 million" the Asian man on the TV began.

"Who's Stupid enough to steal from us," said a man with a strong Russian accent.

"Two-bit whack job, wears a cheap purple suit and make-up, He's not the problem, he's a nobody," said Maroni and Jester felt an anger like no other rise up within her and her hand clenched more tightly around the gun in her pocket.

There was a noise behind Jester and it brought her quickly out of her rage. She watched in horror as a man pushed open the door from the other end of the kitchen, quickly, she hid behind the door she had propped open as her heart began to beat harder. He had not seen her as she continued his patrol down the corridor. She pulled out the knife she had stashed earlier and tried to clear her mind as her dad had taught her so many years ago. He may have been a murdering scum bag and deserved to burn, but he had taught her well, better than most. But she hadn’t killed in a long time, in fact it was his own murder that was her last.

As the man passed by her hiding place, she moved quickly and slunk her arms around his neck and in one swift motion, she slit his throat. The gurgling noise was louder than she had remembered it was and she watched as the man fell to the floor.

As she watched his blood begin to pool around him, something inside her was rising from where she had buried it long ago. Her mask was crumbling rapidly and her madness was coming back into the light. She resisted the urge to giggle and headed back to the window in the door, ignoring the man behind her clutching hopelessly at his throat. She wasn't as bothered about taking yet another life as she thought she would be, in fact, she found it somewhat exhilarating as she rubbed her fingers together, savouring the glossy feeling of the blood as it seeped into the pores of her gloves.

She peered back into the window, making sure she wasn't going to be seen.

"Where then?" asked a huge black man sitting opposite the Russian, he looked outraged as he looked at the TV.

"No one can know but me if the police were to gain leverage over one of you everyone's money would be at stake," said the TV man, and the room erupted into angry roars.

The muttering soon stopped the Russian "what’s to stop them getting to you?" and with that there was silence.

"I go to Hong Kong, far from Dent's jurisdiction and the Chinese will not extradite one of their own," said the TV man.

"How soon can you move the money?" Maroni asked

"I already have, for obvious reasons I couldn't wait for your permission. Rest assured your money is safe". The Asian replied quickly.

And finally 'The Boss' made his move, his sarcastic dry laugh rang out through the room like a beacon and Jester couldn't help the grin that came to her face and her heart began to race in a whole new way. She rubbed her bloody hands together again.

He made his way into the room a little more so they all could see him. He glanced quickly at the doors and a smile pulled at his lips as he spotted his new favourite person.

"And I thought my jokes were bad," he joked, looking around at them all.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't have my boy here pull your head off," said the black gangster who looked more outraged than the others, that the Joker was here. His 'boy' stood quickly from his chair and headed towards the Joker, who seemed completely unfazed by the situation.

"How about a magic trick," said Joker, a childish grin spreading across his face, he opened his jacket and pulled out a pencil and slammed it into the table so it stood upright. "I'm gonna make this pencil disappear"

The gangsters 'boy' began his attack but the Joker moved in one fluid motion and soon the man lay dead on the floor with a pencil embedded in his skull.

"Dada! It's ah it's gone" said the Joker pulling up a seat looking around at them all as though expecting applause.

"Oh and by the way the suit, it wasn't cheap, you outta know you bought it," The Joker said, readjusting his collar slightly.

The black man's face contorted in a mixture of disgust and outrage and he stood to confront the clown, but before a word left his lips, the Russian spoke.

"Sit, I want to hear, proposition," he said motioning to the Joker and sitting back in his chair slightly more.

The Joker looked to the black gangster and waved his hand slightly at the Russian, and so reluctantly the gangster sat back down.

"Let's wind the clocks back a year. These cops and lawyers wouldn't dare cross any of you. I mean what happened, did your balls drop off, hmm" the Joker began staring around at them all, as though actually expecting an answer.

"You see a guy like me," he said motioning to himself slightly.

"Freak" the word rang out from the gangster's lips like a gunshot in the night and Jester once again had to control the rage that flared up, it was mad how emotionally attached she had become to that clown, but she couldn't deny it now, she was in deep.

"A guy like me" The Joker repeated and then he paused for a second clearly changing his mind.

"Look, listen. I know why you choose to have your little ahem ... Group therapy sessions in broad daylight. I know why you're afraid to go out at night. The Batman" he said the name slowly as though making sure that everyone understood.

"See Batman has shown Gotham your true colours, unfortunately. Dent, he's just the beginning. And as for the televisions so-called plan," he said waving his hand in the direction of the TV, where the Asian was still watching from.

"Batman has no jurisdiction; he'll find him and make him squeal! I know the squealers when I see them... and" he implied pointing to the Asian directly who had covered the screen for a second before he was gone, replaced by snow.

"What do you propose," said the Russian looking at The Joker.

"It's simply we... uh ... kill the Batman" said the Joker pushing some of his hair out of his face slightly, before the room erupted into laughter.

"If it's so simple, why haven't you done it already," asked Maroni, a smirk on his face.

"If you're good at something, never do it for free," said the Joker simply.

"How much do you want?" asked The Russian his accent stronger than ever.

"Ugh...Half" said the Joker moving closer to the table.

"You're crazy," said the black gangster and the Joker's eyes went dark and his mood completely changed to something much more dangerous.

"No, I'm Not... No, I'm Not" he snarled looking at the black gangster and licking his back teeth slightly.

"If we don't deal with this now... soon ... little uh Gambol here won't be able to get a nickel for his grandma" Joker said looking at the black gangster and motioning his hand somewhat.

"ENOUGH from the Clown!" shouted Gambol standing again, but The Joker was on his feet just as quick.

"ah-ta-ta-ta-ta" The Joker sang slightly as he pulled open his jacket, his thumb attached to a cord that held on it the pins of around half a dozen grenades. He tugged at the sting lightly and Jester took a breath to calm herself. When had he put the bomb vest on? Was he wearing it back at her apartment or has he put it on since? She certainly hadn’t noticed it before.

"Let's not blow... this out of proportion," warned Joker looking at Gambol.

"You think you can steal from us and just walk away?" asked Gambol.

"Yeah," said the Joker simply backing up, towards the door Jester was watching through.

"I'm putting the word out five hundred grand for this clown dead. A million alive, so I can teach him some manners first." threatened Gambol angrily but the Joker did not look scared but rather a little confused.

"All right. So listen, why don't you give me a call when you wanna take things a little more seriously..." said the Joker reaching into his pocket with his free hand.

"Here's my card," he said, placing a Joker card on the table still tugging lightly at the sting on his thumb. He seemed to be humming to himself as he backed out the room, kicking the door open with his foot. Jester jumped out the way as she watched him approach. He looked at her and laughed wildly.

"Did you do that?" he asked pointing to the man on the floor and he pulled her by the arm passed the dead body. Jester nodded slightly and The Joker laughed again as he and Jester tumbled into the back of the van and took off again.

"You brilliant girl," he exclaimed grinning again, Jester took a breath. This was the best high she would ever have, she was not only allowed to show her true self but the exhilaration of it all was intoxicating. Jester was unsure if she would ever be able to go without again, the death she had just caused completely slipping her mind as soon as he smiled at her. The escape was seamless, it seems Dean was an experienced getaway driver, easily losing Gambol’s men in no time.

"So Jester wanna be a permanent member of our team," he asked after they had dropped off the boys. Jester felt like she was dreaming.

"I'd love to," she said grinning and he mirrored her.

"What about my job?" she asked and he seemed to be thinking for a second.

"Keep it, for now, just get some time off," he told her after a while and Jester only nodded before she pulled her phone out of her back pocket and began to dial, her eyes beginning to well up as her act took over. She has been acting for her whole adult life this would be a piece of cake.

"Hi it's Scarlett, I need some personal time off as my aunt has just died, so I need to go back to England for a little while," Jester said her eyes welling up.

She agreed a few times, blubbling slightly, before she hung up and a smile filled her face as she looked at him.

"I have a month off," she said and The Joker cackled with happiness.

After that phone call, Scarlett's life would never be the same again, though she didn't know it at the time. Her true hidden madness would begin to dig deeper into her soul and Jester would become so much more than just an alter ego.

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anais-shirley · 6 years ago

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AWAE THEORY - Future Death (Spoilers...Kind of...actually yes!)

After watching Mary’s fate in S3 Ep3, I came to the conclusion that something is inevitable: Matthew will die! That’s what the book says. That’s what ALL AOGG screen and stage adaptations showed. Even if L.M Montgomery confessed she wished she didn’t killed him off so soon, Matthew will eventually leave us. And I need to be psychologically ready for that! T_T

Oh Matthew! You are so precious! YOU are the reason why Anne exists! Even if Anne was not expected, you still brought that little “mistake” back to your home. You cherished and nurtured her without any parenting experience, while remaining true to yourself.

Matthew is surely the purest character in the AWAE world: Never forcing his ideas onto anyone, but always trying to empathize. He is respectful and compassionate, and lets others grow and evolve freely, while always remaining around if his help is needed. He is the best father figure Anne could ever have, and I dread the episode in which Moira will have to kill him off (I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be hard for her too).

So in order to prepare for his death, I’d like to share my theories on it and how it’s going affect the other characters, mostly Anne and Marilla.

Episode 3 foreshadowed many future events. In this scene above, Anne tells Gilbert that he cannot avoid delivering bad news to his patients, but doing it with caring is what matters the most. When Matthew has his heart attack, Gilbert will try to save him, unsuccessfully. At that point, the Shirbert relationship would have strengthened, and delivering the news to Anne will be the hardest thing he will have to do. Anne will be devastated, but won’t show it because of Marilla.

In season 1, we were introduced to Marilla’s tragic past: losing her older brother and witnessing her catatonic mother slowly dying from grief. As a result, Marilla had to break off her relationship with John Blythe to could care for her mother and younger brother. Since their mother’s death, Marilla and Matthew have lived secluded, only relying on each other for companionship until Anne came into the picture. Matthew’s death would affect Marilla so much that she falls into a catatonic shock, just like her mother.

While unknowingly mirroring Marilla’s experience with her grieving mother, Anne won’t be able to deal with the loss of Matthew because her own mother figure is suffering. Before Matthew’s death, I expect Anne and Gilbert’s relationship to clown us hint at a future together. But given the tragedy, Anne would break off any plans/potential engagement with Gilbert to care for Marilla, again repeating Marilla’s heartbreaking relation with Gilbert’s father.

However, as Matthew once said, Marilla is stronger than her mother. She’ll eventually come back to herself and realize the painful parallel between her past and Anne’s future, if Anne sacrifices everything to care for her. She won’t let her Anne have the same fate, and above all, she won’t let the Shirbert relationship die with Matthew. So I think she’ll have a heart-to-heart talk with Anne and share her story.

What do you think? Do you agree or do you have another theory on how Matthew’s death is going to be?

#awae #awae spoilers #anne of green gables #anne shirley #anne of avonlea #anne of the island #anne with an e #anne shirley cuthbert #awae theory #anne x gilbert #anne and gilbert #gilbert blythe #marilla cuthbert #anne x marilla #matthew cuthbert

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gladrial · 5 years ago

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Bad Thing - Chapter 9

Author's Notes:

We are very, extremely, sincerely sorry for the long wait on the rest of this story! Most of it is already written, thanks ENTIRELY to Gladrial, just needing detail and polish. Thank you so much, from the bottom of our fangirl hearts, for enjoying this and letting us know! This is a story close to our souls and we cannot wait to share the rest with y'all!

Risque has put together a soundtrack for this fic on Spotify, though it frustratingly leaves out the song that inspired the title, which is the hard to locate "I've Done A Bad Thing" by Ellen Reid. Consider that the real first track!

---

August had started with a heatwave. A dumb, stupid heatwave that reminded Harleen of a time early in high school where she'd rode with some friends to a lake outside the city, eight teenagers packed in an ancient van with no air conditioning. Somewhere in the middle of Nowhere, Gotham County, the engine decided that life wasn't worth living and, since it was a time before everybody had a cell phone, they were stranded on a lonely stretch of road, with the sun beating down on them, and not even a brief breeze to bring respite. Most of them had also already been drinking, getting a headstart on the drinking they were going to do at the lake, which led to Harleen and her friend Amber taking turns holding each other's hair while they puked into the roadside weeds.

"...And that's why I'll never drink lemonade and vodka ever again," Harleen concluded, flicking the ash from her cigarette off the side of the balcony. "Or get in a van that's old enough to have grandchildren."

Miss Murton laughed, coughing out a cloud of cigarette smoke as she did.

Millie, Harleen reminded herself as the older woman had insisted she stop addressing her so formally. She patted her back, concerned, but Millie brushed her off, insisting she was fine.

"Just reminds me of my own youth, is all. I'm always tickled by how, at the heart, nothing ever changes."

-at the hands of the notorious Joker. Upon hearing his name, Harley suddenly became acutely aware of the televised news broadcast playing softly in the background, through the open sliding door.

"Turn it up," Harley asked, as she knew still had the remote and Harley was busy leaning her head to see the screen, her attention now focused fully on the shaky footage of wreckage and smoke.

Miss Murton grabbed the remote and raised the sound, the announcer's General American accent droning over an aerial shot of the scene, the view of twisted metal and firemen scaling rubble.

At least thirty-one dead in the wake of last night's attack on the subway. Many more in critical condition following the forced derailing.

"Horrible," Millie offered sadly. "I used to think that it was impossible for anyone to be truly evil. But him-"

Harley declined to respond. She'd never gone into detail about her job with Millie. Patient confidentiality notwithstanding, Leland had warned her not to let loose even the most mundane details of her job early on, particularly with such a high profile case. She could see why. Arkham Asylum was constantly hounded for information from the media and bribes worked exceedingly well, not just with general staff, but also for the doctors. Of course, aside from the obvious security risk idly chatting about her career would be, there was the real possibility that it would lead to morbid curiosity or straight-up avoidance.

Better to let someone really get to know you first, Leland had advised. Harley had taken it to heart. She didn't really want to get in a mental health debate with someone Miss Murton's age anyway, imagining she'd be very set in her ways.

Thankfully, Commissioner Gordon has confirmed that the clown prince of crime is currently in custody and awaiting his return to Arkham Asylum.

That certainly hadn't taken as long as Harley thought it would. After all the trouble he'd put her through to only be out a few days? ...Still he had indicated it was for a specific purpose. She realized uneasily that this must have been it.

"Make sure to lock the door behind him this time," her companion muttered bitterly behind another cigarette. "Honestly, why is it so hard to keep him in there?"

In this specific incident, Harley knew exactly why. She inhaled sharply, feeling that familiar pang of guilt trying to creep in. The one that he had argued out of her not a few nights ago. Exhaling, she decided this was a prime incident to bring up in their next session.

---

Dr. Quinzel waited patiently in the therapy room. Normally, she'd have some anxiety about seeing her patient once again, but it seemed strangely absent this time. Perhaps because it'd only been a week since she'd last seen him. Or perhaps because this was all becoming rather commonplace. A thought that, she knew, should fill her with concern, but somehow it didn't. This all felt...strangely natural.

Even so, things had been extremely tense the last time they saw one another. It had ended okay eventually, but there had been a point when she thought he really was done with her. So why then wasn't she the slightest bit scared?

She closed her eyes and briefly analyzed herself. Her behavior. His behavior. Their interactions. The answer lay there somewhere. He was done with her because she wasn't living up to his expectations. He should have killed her, but he didn't.

It was far from the first time it crossed her mind. He could have done it in the car. She remembered how angry he had been. He'd let her go instead. Why? She recalled other incidents when she'd irritated him on some level. Questioning him on the way to their date. She'd disappointed him that day too, on the rooftops. Times she said or did things that he found asinine.

All in all, very minor infractions, if infractions at all. But, she reminded herself, logic didn't matter where he was concerned. They were infractions to him. And it didn't matter how minor, he'd killed for far less, for seemingly no reason at all. She couldn't analyze him in the same framework as other people.

He'd had every opportunity. She'd allowed herself to be as vulnerable as a person can be around another. She should, by all accounts, be very dead…but she wasn't.

She went back to the night in question, when she'd disappointed him the most. He hadn't killed her. He'd approached her at home and actively sought her out for some form of understanding instead. She imagined he would have gone ahead with it, if she hadn't reciprocated.

She smiled to herself. He was seeking connection in the only way he knew how and she'd successfully risen to the occasion. Perhaps if others had made more of an effort...but then, a large part of her was selfishly glad no one had.

"Morning, Dr. Quinzel," Jeremy greeted her as he and Sean escorted her patient inside. "You look like you're in a good mood."

"It's going to be a good day," she replied, regarding the Joker. He had come in calmly without any of his normal quips. Instead he wore an expression of someone torn between surprise and self-satisfaction.

"Well, well. Look who's still here," Joker commented, after security had put the pitifully futile restraints on him and left.

"I'm your doctor," Harley replied, glancing above the brim of her glasses toward him, as she fingered through his most recent file. "Where else would I be?"

"That was entirely up to you," he reminded her. "All part of our bargain."

She cringed inwardly, but was certain it didn't show. She'd become rather good at hiding her inner thoughts, given the recent twists and turns of her life. She knew no one could hear them in here. Not unless she made the very stupid choice to record their session, something she could not afford at this point. Still, hearing the word 'bargain' between them, within these walls, was unsettling.

"As I recall," Harley said, putting his file down on the desk in front of her. "That was something you had come up with."

"Ah, so you helped me have my little romp out of the kindness of your heart then? If memory serves, you didn't seem too enthusiastic at the time."

This was off the topic she wanted to focus on, but part of her was glad he'd brought it up. After all, it was precisely what she had been thinking about before he'd entered. Therapy was meant to air thoughts that were uncomfortable to confront. In this case, uncomfortable for her...but still. Doing so with this would keep them from being bogged down by it later.

She tapped a pen rhythmically against the surface of the desk, considering her response. "Maybe I don't know what I want," she offered carefully.

Once the words had left her lips, she felt an unexpected weight lift off her shoulders. She'd had a plan. A plan that she'd been relentlessly pursuing, despite feelings she didn't want to admit to. Feelings that ultimately none of it was going to make her happy.

"Oh, but I think you do." He leaned in conspiratorially as much as his restraints would allow. "I have to admit, I was looking forward to following your career, but this is better. Much, much better. I was dreading whoever they were going to dump me on next. They wouldn't have been half as fun as you."

Harley laughed. "Well, while we're confessing things, it might have occurred to me that anything I could choose to do wouldn't be half as exciting as what we've been doing lately."

"Darling, you haven't seen anything yet," he promised with a wink. "Speaking of, what are the chances of you opening the door for me again, as it were?"

She let the pen drop from her hand. It landed absently on the floor as she stared at him, slack-jawed with a half-smile.

"What?" he continued innocently. "We could have one of our little sleepovers. You like those!"

"You just got here!" she exclaimed with disbelief.

"I wasn't suggesting it be today. I haven't even seen the old gang yet."

Harley shook her head absently. "Unbelievable," she said to herself, a giggle betraying her.

"That wasn't a no!" Joker declared triumphantly.

Harley pointed at the file in front of her assertively in an attempt to regain control of the conversation. "Getting back on track, we need to talk about the subway incident."

"Oh that." He rolled his head dismissively. "Last I heard, the death count has gone up to thirty-six. Hardly my record, but not bad."

"You're upset that more people didn't die as a result of your actions?"

"Oh, it could have been more," he replied, defensively. "Or it could have been none. See, that's the thing when playing with the Bat. You've got to have distractions in place. If you're single-minded, he will hone in relentlessly and you won't have a prayer."

"I don't understand," Harley admitted, wondering if it was better or worse that these massive acts of violence had a strategy behind them.

"Well, if I had planned, for example, to attack one subway train he would have sniffed that out. It's not like I was being subtle. I wanted his attention after all. So, he would have figured it out, stopped it, and dragged me away. A very short, anticlimactic game, wouldn't you agree?"

"So...what'd you do instead?"

"This time? Divide and conquer," he continued, smugly. "Instead of saying 'x marks the spot', I planted many an x. Unlike our resident riddle machine." He rolled his eyes heavily with disdain. "He literally wants to be caught. What kind of gimmick is that? 'Come catch me Batman.' 'Oh no. You caught me.'"

Harley snickered behind her hand, trying to compose herself.

"Feel free to laugh, my dear," the Joker encouraged. "He's truly a ridiculous man."

"I shouldn't encourage the mocking of another patient under our care," she stated, straightening her glasses.

Joker smirked at her with a tilt of the head. "He once had an underground game show. Do you know what he called it? The Riddle Factory."

She exploded in laughter despite herself. "Oh my god! That's so stupid."

"Agreed."

Blinking back tears, she suddenly regarded him with irritation. "You've gotten us off track again."

"My mind does tend to wander," he admitted apologetically. "Where were we?"

"Divide and conquer."

"Ah yes," he continued. "So I made it clear that my latest scheme would be taking place on the subway, but which station? Which train? Who could say? To make doubly sure, because the Bat is a crafty one, I redoubled my efforts. I actually had several explosives ready in different locations. Enough to keep the entire Bat-clan busy. By the time they had finished, they'd deactivated all but one. C'est la vie."

"A most engaging tale," she complimented. "But what happened wasn't really going to be my question."

"Apologies," he offered. "I appear to have jumped the gun."

"You were very insistent that this had to happen at a very specific time. Why?"

His eyes gleamed. "Oh, it was a very important anniversary. I couldn't possibly have missed it."

"Anniversary? For you and Batman?" she clarified, scribbling in her notebook.

"Who else would I go through so much effort for? To think he almost ruined it too," he finished sadly. "He appreciates the lengths I go to so little."

---

"I'm just saying that the physical health of the patients under our care should be just as, if not more, important than the mental care," Kirkwood stated pretentiously. "You can't care for the mind if the body is not healthy."

Harley hid the desire to roll her eyes yet again, struggling to look busy. Not that it ever worked. It was as though he was arguing not with her but at her, seeing as she never swapped words with him at this point. Why would he think that she, a psychiatrist, was a good candidate for this conversation?

This morning routine she was forced into was getting beyond tiresome. She was considering asking him to leave, point blank, even if it did open a can of worms at work she didn't want to deal with, when Jeremy suddenly walked in. Without a word, he pulled another chair up to her desk to join them, as though he had been expected.

"Thanks for inviting me," Jeremy said to her casually, setting down a coffee and bagel on her desk.

She stared at him awkwardly for a moment, before replying with a confused, "...You're welcome?"

"Not a bad way to start the day," he replied quickly, seemingly oblivious to the perplexed faces Kirkwood and she were throwing at him. "I never make time for breakfast."

Kirkwood wasn't just confused, Harley realized. He was annoyed. Really annoyed. Her eyes flashed quickly between him and back to Jeremy who was giving her a look with intent.

"Not a morning person then?" Harley asked him nonchalantly, suddenly acting as though she had expected him all along.

Jeremy's posture relaxed upon her understanding and hers followed suit. Kirkwood's only seemed to tighten all the more as a result.

"Not really," Jeremy admitted, taking a bite out of his bagel. "How about you?"

"I suppose life has forced me to become one, but I don't think I come by it naturally," Harley answered. "But I didn't have a lot of choice in college. Between classes and gym practice and meets-" she finished with a shrug.

"You did gymnastics in college?" he asked, sounding somewhat impressed.

"Yes. I actually got a scholarship through it." She didn't try to hide the sound of self-satisfaction in her voice, still rightfully proud of herself after all the grueling practice and sickeningly early mornings.

"No shit," Jeremy commented. "Well, show us what you can do!"

Harley chuckled, enjoying the attention. "I'd say I'm rusty, but I've actually gotten back in the swing of things lately. Just the same, I don't think here's the place and I'm not dressed right anyway."

"I'm a morning person," Kirkwood offered, which had nearly startled Harley, having momentarily forgotten he was there.

He must have realized as much, because he suddenly excused himself, claiming he needed to get to his wing of the building and started with his day. Both Harley and Jeremy wished him a good day and waited for the door to close behind him.

Jeremy instantly turned to Harley with a look of sincerity. "I'm so sorry. If I've overstepped my bounds, just say so. It's just...I've seen him bothering you a lot...or at least it seems like he's bothering you...and I just thought maybe it'd help if I-" He gestured around helplessly. "I don't know."

"Are you kidding?" Harley exclaimed. "You're my hero! He's been driving me absolutely up the wall! Thank you. A million times thank you. If you can see he's bothering me, why can't he?"

"He's just trying to wear you down. You don't have to put up with it, you know."

"I know," she sighed helplessly. "It's just...he hasn't really done anything. What am I supposed to do? Complain to HR that he won't stop exchanging pleasantries?"

"Well, if it helps," he offered. "I don't mind doing this more, if you'd like."

"Jeremy, you don't have to do that. I would never ask someone else to be subjected to him on a daily basis too."

"Have to? Who said anything about 'have to'?" he asked with a mischievous grin. "I'm still hoping to get a cartwheel out of you or something."

Harley laughed at that, good and loud. "We'll see," she offered simply, grateful not to have to face these awkward mornings alone anymore.

---

It felt surreal being there once more already, Harley mused as she entered the cemetery for the second time in four months. She'd barely been working at Arkham more than a year and here she was again for a work related death.

She silently walked with a small group of co-workers to the gravesite of the guard the Joker had killed during his latest escapade. Everyone was respectfully quiet, making it easy for her to get lost in thought. An image of a chalkboard declaring 'Zero Days Since Our Last Workplace Incident' came to mind and she stifled a chuckle.

All thoughts of levity quickly abated as she found herself face-to-face with an open casket. This wasn't the result of an unfortunate workplace accident. It had been cold-blooded murder.

The cold-face looking back at her as she paid her respects wasn't one she was familiar with from day-to-day. She only ever saw him once, but it was a face she'd never forget. The face of someone trying to comfort and reassure her, before he'd been brutally stabbed to death.

Stabbed to death with her knife. The knife she'd smuggled into Arkham. The knife she'd willingly given to a notorious killer and set loose.

She couldn't help feeling like this face, albeit dead, was staring at her knowingly, even through shut eyes. She was overcome with this feeling that it would continue to do so, even six feet beneath the earth. Even from the comfort of her home. Cold, dead eyes piercing her apartment walls.

Next thing she knew, Harley found herself seated in a folding chair. Several concerned faces watched her intently, though she managed to focus on Joan kneeling in front of her first.

"Take it easy," Joan suggested softly.

"Did-Did I faint?" Harley asked.

"No," her mentor assured her. "Well...perhaps nearly. Jeremy here made sure to catch you before you hit the ground though."

Harley looked up to see Jeremy smiling at her warmly. They both took a seat on either side of her as the service began, but she couldn't focus on the words. Even sitting between two people that obviously cared for her, she felt so alone.

She hadn't wanted to come. Knew it would only make things worse for her, but could see little way out of it. She'd been the last person to see him alive after all. All it served to do was make her feel completely guilt-ridden...which granted, why shouldn't she? Bad enough that she was responsible, but then she had to go and have a spell right there in front of everyone, making herself the center of attention during an event where she absolutely should not be.

At least Kirkwood wasn't here. He'd probably spend the remainder of the service mooning over her.

The casket closed with a dull thud and she felt herself jump slightly at the sound. She moved mechanically, following the crowd of people as they made to leave. Maybe she could blend in with them unnoticed and those dead eyes would lose sight of her.

---

It hadn't taken long before he'd convinced her to escort him out of the asylum once more. She'd agreed, but with the stipulation that it'd be done quickly and quietly this time. He didn't argue. She supposed she could have done so just as easily the first time around, avoiding bloodshed, if she'd just had gone through with it without a fuss.

What had followed was a rather lengthy stint of him coming in and out of her apartment at will, often staying the night and even conducting business over the phone in full earshot of her. One day, she'd come home with takeout and dessert to find him engaged in what she could only consider a kidnapping craft project, discarded letters cut from magazines and being glued to construction paper, the whole cliche topped off with a lunchbox of fingers in the fridge.

"See, Harl? The guy was already dead, it's not time sensitive. Plenty of time to eat and watch the movie, I can finish this after. Just push the box of Fred Fingers to the side and the cheesecake will fit." Both the Fred Fingers and cheesecake were gone by the next morning.

Though she wasn't aware of it at first, eventually a hat here, some socks there, and there was enough of Joker's laundry mixed with hers to fit in the top drawer. Which Harley emptied the moment she thought of it, feeling slightly drunk and giddy with the thought. Two of his purple trench coats, though different fabrics and shades of his signature purple, hung in the coat closet. One of his jester headed canes sat beneath, leaning against her vacuum.

Seeing his handguns casually out on a table or in a shoulder holster slung over the back of a chair was normal now and loose ammo cartridges were scattered around the apartment. Erring on the side of caution, she didn't move them, though she suspected it was less "strategic placement in case of attack" and more him emptying his pockets wherever he pleased. Appropriately, the Joker's belongings were home to a seemingly endless assortment of pill bottles, knives, and colorful "props" that she, as a rule, always considered dangerous.

They had meandering talks about everything and nothing, enjoying the constant stream of comedy that he played on the television. Relaxing on the couch, his head in her lap, her fingers brushing through his tousled curls as the smoke from their cigarettes curled around and up. She often snuggled against his chest in bed, her petite form enveloped by his long arms and his hands petting the back of her neck. At times, Harley had watched him sleep, marveling in the rare stillness of a face so often in motion.

She had to admit, she hadn't been this happy in years. It was so nice to have someone to come home to, even if it was sporadic.

And she noticed those eyes she had been so scared of following her home...they were strangely absent whenever he was around.

Harley brushed her teeth vigorously, taking note of his own purple toothbrush looking up at her. She shook her head in disbelief at the turn of events that had brought her here. It was such an innocuous thing, a toothbrush, but it was his and it was next to hers, something she doubted anyone else could ever claim.

The thought put a bounce in her step. She placed her own toothbrush in the holder next to his and skipped out of the bathroom to her bedroom.

"Well, someone's in a good mood tonight," he commented, looking up from his phone as she hopped into bed next to him.

"Why shouldn't I be?" She asked, melting into the sheets beneath her. "Life is good."

"Is it, cupcake?" He looked down at her suggestively, giving Harley that fluttery drop feeling in her stomach. "I know something that would make it even better."

Giving a blowjob was like riding a bike, Harley thought, falling quickly into the familiar movements with her tongue and lips. The Joker's cock was thick and long enough that she could only get a few inches after the head into her mouth at once, though he didn't seem to mind, petting and stroking her hair while murmuring words of affection and encouragement. She swirled her tongue around the soft skin near the slit, her left hand cupping and fondling his balls gently. Her right wrapped around the exposed length of shaft she couldn't fit in, her own fair complexion seeming like a deep tan next to his ever so lightly pink-tinged alabaster and tiny pulsing blue veins.

Though Harley was no stranger to giving head, she was surprised with how much more into it she was than with previous men, actually working herself up even with all her concentration on his pleasure.

And his were the only eyes she could see.

#jokerxharley #jhq #jarley #bad thing #fanfiction

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monkeyandelf · 5 years ago

Text

The true story of Harley Quinn

Being a partner, the second number for a superhero, is an ungrateful job. It is necessary to distract attention, take strikes - and, of course, retreat when the hero comes time to shine, delivering a final blow or uttering a cool phrase. But it’s much worse to be the companion of a villain, not just a simple one, but one of the most unpredictable and merciless ones that the history of comics knew. The villain is so iconic and bright that it is practically impossible to look near him. The chances of getting out of the shadow of such a character are vanishingly small. But our today's heroine not only got rid of the catch-up role, but also found her own wings, shaking the world of comics. This stunning girl successfully got out of an abusive relationship and became the first number to promote her own films and comics. Harley Quinn appeared in the pantheon of opponents of the Dark Knight, in general, by chance - there was no plan to introduce a new antagonist. Paul Dini, screenwriter of the legendary animated series of the nineties "Batman", conceived a scene in which at a reception in honor of Commissioner Gordon, the Joker had to jump out of the cake and paralyze those present with gas. This trick was considered too eccentric even for the Joker, so he was allocated an assistant acrobat in a Harlequin costume (it’s interesting that in the end the Joker was inside the cake, and Harley rolled the cake into the hall in the guise of a policeman). Dini modeled Harley based on her friend, actress Arlene Sorkin. In one of the episodes, Arlene appeared in Harlequin's costume; Paul remembered it, and he invited the actress to voice Harley.

Arlene Sorkin voiced Harley in many cartoons and games and is as firmly associated with her heroine as Mark Hamill with the Joker, and Kevin Conroy with Batman. The eccentric, lively, sharp-tongued blonde with a Brooklyn accent and specific appeals ("Pie", "Betsy", "Ginger") could not help but be remembered by the viewer. Indeed, how often does someone annoy the Joker with jokes that are funnier than him? The character gained popularity and firmly established in the animated series. Benefit was not long in coming - it was the comic “Crazy Love” (by the way, the Eisner Prize winner!), which first tells the story of the appearance of Harley Quinn, almost unchanged by subsequent retcons. After completing an internship at Arkham Hospital, the young psychiatrist Harlin Quinzel tried to solve a riddle that tormented many: what is the problem with the Joker? Left alone with the girl, the psychopath seemed to finally open up: a difficult childhood and violence by his alcoholic father pushed the young man onto a slippery path. Batman, as the personification of Gotham, did not forgive the mistakes of youth and over and over again knocked the poor man out of the way of correction with his heavy fists. Dr. Quinzel identified the main source of frustration and anger of her patient and concluded that if this source is eliminated, it will help the recovery and socialization of her pale ward.

Harley's dreams were quite classic and could not be combined with the plans of the Joker Mr. Jay's charisma and ostentatious readiness to pour out his soul enchanted Harlin. She fell hopelessly in love and helped the Joker escape from the clinic, hoping to win his love with her devotion and match his madness. This is a key moment in history that has changed the public's view of the Joker: it turned out that you can fall in love with him! Before Harley appeared, he was, as a rule, portrayed as an absolute evil, whose motives did not require clarification, and the lack of background was only more scary. Paul Dini made a small revolution in the plot - perhaps for the first time since The Murderous Joke, where Alan Moore spoke in detail about the fall of a comedian-loser into a vat with chemicals. Of course, the animated series “Batman” was not burdened with the whole load of Joker sins - for example, the murder of Robin and violence against Batgirl. Alas, Dr. Quinzel fell into a trap prepared by the manipulation master. The young psychiatrist expected that she would not only be able to understand the Joker, but also be cured by turning him into a family man. For this, Batman had to be eliminated, and Harley decided to conduct her first solo operation. She single-handedly realized one of the abandoned plans of the clown maniac: put to sleep Batman, tied him up and hung him above the tank with piranhas. That would have ended the path of the Dark Knight if he had not convinced Harley to invite the Joker to watch his death. The Joker, angry that his girlfriend defeated Batman before him, beat her and freed the shackled hero with almost an apology, which he counted on.

Harley managed the incredible - she made Batman laugh! The laughter turned out to be creepy and unpleasant, but nonetheless ... Although Harley’s plan ultimately failed, she crawled closer to the Joker’s main goal than himself. Such a criminal talent could not arise out of nowhere. As Batman himself noted, Harley Quinn was not an angel from the start. Advances in gymnastics provided her with a place at Gotham University, where she intended to receive a prestigious degree in psychiatry - no matter thanks to diligent study or affair with teachers. Not every doctor can withstand work in Arkham, but Harley bravely went straight to the mouth of a lion, and the Joker not only stupefied the girl, but revealed her hidden talents. Despite the huge popularity of the character, seven years passed between the appearance of Harley Quinn in the animated series and in the main comic book series. The comic Harley began to grim less and with the help of Poison Ivy gained some superpowers: increased dexterity, stamina and immunity to poisons.

Harley and Ivy immediately became friends. Once they hypnotized Bruce Wayne himself and went shopping. At his expense, of course Another convention of the animated series, which could not remain constant for a long time in comic reality, is the relationship of Harley and Mr. Jay. Work with someone in a pair not in the style of the Joker, be it an accomplice or a lover. Whatever Dr Quinzel thought to herself, the Joker was indeed a psychopath, incapable of empathy and caring for anyone other than himself. Harley did not affect the clown’s bad habit of getting rid of her accomplices, but the girl still had to get out of an unhealthy relationship.

New Harley puts on her old outfit only if a retro-style party is scheduled In terms of obsession, Harley Quinn is a reflection of the Joker. As the Joker is obsessed with Batman, so Harley was so passionate about the Joker that she was ready to sacrifice her life for the maniac. And although she retained this trait later, in some ways Harley was able to become higher than the ex-boyfriend. In her own comic series, Harley Quinn, with the help of Poison Ivy, finally abandoned the Joker and tried to organize her own gang, survived death and resurrection. We were also told about Harley's early bad relationship with student Guy Kopsky, whose suicide severely injured her. Harley honestly tried to get rid of the criminal past, undergoing treatment in Arkham. Later, she joined the Secret Six team, whose task is to complete dangerous missions that are morally ambiguous. Among Harley's colleagues were other Batman's enemies - Bane, Deadshot and Catman. However, for a long time she did not spend among her colleagues: endless showdowns within the team and uncertain prospects did not give the heroine any hope of restoring her reputation.

The Joker's severed face on the Deadshot is one of the most shocking scenes in The Suicide Squad. At least for deadshot The Gotham Sirens series tells of the adventures of Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy and Catwoman, who settled in the same apartment and made a promise to help each other. All three “sirens” have a flexible attitude to the law, but each has her own fad, and this has more than once led to clashes - for example, when the eco-activist Catwoman tried to convince Harley to hand over tame hyenas to the zoo. Or when Harley decided to avenge the Joker for everything he did to her and tried to kill him in Arkham, but then changed her mind and helped him out, and only the intervention of Batman and Catwoman saved the hospital from new repairs and the need to update the staff. The next restart of the DC universe made adjustments to the history of Harley's origin: for example, her white skin is no longer the result of makeup, but the consequences of a fall into the chemicals where the Joker pushed her. Harlequin's suit was replaced by a topic, leather shorts and fishnet tights.

Gotham Sirens were also supposed to be a movie, but the uncertainty with Squad suicides ”forced DC to postpone filming at least until the release of“ Birds of Prey ” Harley Quinn is an incomparably better team player than the Joker, and Amanda Waller, a government agent and creator of the Suicide Squad, has noticed it. The detachment got its name for a reason - it was based on death row inmates, whom Waller almost stole from an electric chair to use their skills to complete dangerous missions. In addition to Harley, the Squad included Rick Flag, Katana, Captain Boomerang, Black Manta and already known to our heroine from the Secret Six Deadshot, with whom Quinn had an affair. Each member of the detachment was implanted with a micro-bomb, which was supposed to explode in case of disobedience. After one of the missions, the guard of the prison where the Detachment was kept accidentally disconnected the bomb inside Harley, and she escaped. Waller could not allow the loss of control even of one of her people and sent the entire Squad to return Harley - alive or dead Participation in the Suicide Squad can be called a turning point for Harley Quinn. In the past ten years, she has been portrayed as an antiheroine rather than a villain. And although her mental health still leaves much to be desired, the desire to constantly improve is an integral part of the new Harley, which is trying to return to work as a doctor, appreciates human life and cares for the environment. Harley was able to get rid of the label "girlfriend of the Joker" - and from the clown himself, too, and this is perhaps her main victory. Her life path is the path of an ambitious woman who quit her career for the sake of a relationship that brought her nothing but pain, and then struggled for a long time to regain her own voice and opinion. It was also difficult because the Joker, although not able to experience human affection, was jealous of Harley, considering her his property.

Mr. Jay is also Bluebeard now? As if he had few bodies on his account! Quinn needed to be free, but her heart could not remain idle for a long time. Therefore, for geeks, the transition from Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy from friendly to romantic did not come as a surprise. Harley and Ivy are an even more successful criminal duet than Harley and Joker, if only because Ivy does not try to periodically kill a partner. Pamela Aili (Ivy's real name) helped Harley survive the eternal mood swings of the Joker, each time noting how terribly he treats her, and encouraged her to get out of a humiliating relationship

The animated series "Batman" The close friendship of Harley and Ivy has always made readers wonder if it has boundaries. Paul Dini himself in a special edition of “The Adventures of Batgirl” back in 1998 hinted at a connection between the heroines, but their romance was officially confirmed only in 2015, when DC considered that the public was ready for this. Harley Quinn is a child of a new era, if you like, a millennial. It was no accident that she first appeared not in comics, but on television. She was a complex and interesting character from the very beginning, and without a story about Harley's tricks in a variety of games, cartoons, films and non-canonical comics, her portrait will be incomplete. The gallery of her reflections shows the widest range of this anti-heroine artist, who easily juggles with various personalities. For fans, the first and most important Harley is, of course, the charm drawn by Bruce Timm and voiced by Arlene Sorkin in the animated series Batman. Paul Dini wrote her line so believably and witty that this image is still loved by fans. “Batman of the Future” is a kind of cyberpunk continuation of the animated series “Batman” with the previous team of creators.

The Return of the Joker In the feature film The Return of the Joker, released within its framework, Harley Quinn appeared briefly, but left a lasting impression. There she is a grumpy grandmother who picks up her troubled granddaughters from prison and grumbles at the youth! In this universe, Harley renounces the Joker and devotes himself to raising their common daughter. True, before this, she participates in the abduction of Robin (Tim Drake), his torture and transformation into the Joker Jr. Apparently, then a conscience woke up in Harley. On the alternative Earth-3, the Joker is a successful comedian, and not least thanks to his manager Harlin Quinsel. Unfortunately, Oulman (the evil version of Batman) kills her violently, and the comedian becomes the superhero Jokster. In non-cartoon comics, Harley first appeared in 1997 in the Thrillkiller series, which told what would happen if Batman and Robin were heroic in the early 1960s. Unlike the comedy show with Adam West, these stories were grim and realistic. Harley's name is Haley Fitzpatrick, and she dresses with Harlequin to help the female version of the Joker named Bianca Steeplechase. By the way, Bianca treats her better than any of the male versions of the Joker! True, in the end Biancu is killed by Batgirl, and Haley promises to avenge her beloved.

Thrillkiller In the 2004 Batman Punch comic strip, Harley had her own talk show where she gave out terrible psychology advice to callers who called. When the show was taken off the air, she teamed up with the Joker and became a supervillain. In the games of the Arkham series, Harley is the faithful assistant to the Joker. After the death of her lover, she mourns and even captures Batman, which is dedicated to the addition to Arhkam City - "Harley Quinn's Revenge". In the Injustice fighting game, Quinn reacts differently to the Joker’s death: it unites with the Green Arrow and enters into resistance to Superman’s totalitarian regime. The comic, which reveals the plot of the game, tells about Harley’s friendship with Black Canary, as well as about Quinn's pregnancy and about the problems that a baby from a supervillain could entail. And if you go through the staircase mode for Harley, then in the end she herself will kill the Joker - right at the wedding! You shouldn’t dunk her face in a cake on such a day ...

Batman Kick In the brutal Joker comic book, Brian Azzarello Harley is the silent and most trusted assistant to the Joker, who has just left Arkham and is trying to get his money and territory back. She dances a striptease and backstage flaunts the careless accomplices of the Joker, who in this comic book not only does not yell at Harley, but also sobs, hugging her. In the sequel to The Joker, the comic strip Batman: The Damned, it turns out that Batman has cracked down on the Joker and is now suffering from having committed the murder. Here, Harley gains a voice, decides on an operation to become like the Joker, and paralyzes Batman, trying to rape him. In the comic strip The White Knight, it turns out that Harley was two characters. The first of them, Harlin Quinzel, left the Joker when he killed Robin. The second, Marian Druze, replaced her, which the Joker did not even notice. When the offender is cured of madness and just becomes Jack Napier again, Marian hits him and scoffs at him for being “normal.” Then Harlin appears, stuns Marian and reveals the truth to Jack: she loved Mr. Jay in spite of his shortcomings, and Marian - only for them.

Comic "The White Knight" In the neonaric comic strip Joker / Harley: Sanity, Harley is the main character, a high-profile psychiatrist who compiles psychological portraits of serial killers in Gotham, in which Batman does not smell. A few years ago her friend was killed; the maniac was never found. Now, crimes with a similar handwriting have resumed, and for Harley, this investigation becomes a private matter. The Harlin comic focuses on Harley's crush. The reader will go all the way with the girl — from the affair with the professor, whom the whole college learned about, to the first murder, after which there was no turning back. The Harlin feature is that in this comic strip, the Joker is portrayed as incredibly attractive, almost like Jared Leto.

Joker / Harley: Sanity Few people remember, but "Birds of Prey" were already on television! Such a series was shown in the early 2000s, and Harley Quinn performed by Mia Sarah who was the main antagonist desiring domination over the whole city of New Gotham. Harley doesn't wear a costume, but her final dress is a bit like Harlequin’s familiar outfit. The series lasted only one season.

According to the plot of the recent animated series, which is simply called "Harley Quinn", Harley finally gets tired of the fact that the Joker is pushing her and wants to become his full partner in the criminal business. When the “pie” is expectedly refused, Harley throws it and collects her own team of bad-luck villains, who have something to prove to seasoned colleagues. Her faithful friend Poison Ivy does not forget to remind Quinn that she is strong and will surely cope on her own (the topic of their lesbian relations in the animated series is not affected). By the way, Harley was voiced in this show by Kaylee Kuoko - Penny from The Big Bang Theory. And Kaylee's TBV colleague, Melissa Rausch (Bernadette), has already managed to voice Harley in the 2017 Batman and Harley Quinn cartoon.

The series "Gotham" also had her own Harley Quinn - her role was played by Francesca Ruth-Dodson. This Harley combined the features of several DC characters, but something was recognizable: a black and red suit, the brand name “pie” and complete devotion to proto-Joker Jeremiah Waleske.

Of course, for the mass audience, the main Harley is Margot Robbie from The Suicide Squad and the upcoming Birds of Prey. Robbie, a star of the first magnitude, according to the recognition of the "father" of the character Paul Dini, just fell into the image, making the already recognizable anti-heroine, superpopular.

The Suicide Squad is phenomenal in its own way. The film gathered a huge box office with low critics, was recognized as a victim of editing and will soon undergo a soft restart by James Gann. At the same time, Harley stepped dry from the chemical tub - the image created by Margot Robbie was too memorable to disappear in vain. But her interaction with the Joker pimp played by Jared Leto will definitely be reworked. Harley in “Suicide Squad” is a sheep led by a glamorous psychopath, ready for anything for her “daddy”. Surprisingly, the Joker in the film does not seem to be heartless and even cares about Harley, but we hardly see the continuation of their romance. In the Bird of Prey trailer, Harley cheerfully states that she broke up with Mr. Jay and will now go her own way - along with fighting friends Huntress, Black Canary, detective Rene Montoya and young Cassandra Kane. This team will confront the narcissistic gangster Black Mask. Thus, the film will catch up with the comic and television trend towards the emancipation of Harley, which has gone from under the joker's tyrannical hand.

Harley Quinn is a truly deep character who managed to survive an intense evolution despite her youth. Take a look at Batman with the Joker - their relationship has not changed for decades! But the own way of the cheerful Cheerleader distinguishes her from a handful of ossified veterans. Being a fearless hero or an insidious villain is nothing. To be a bad guy, to improve, become the first number and increase interest in yourself is doubly difficult. Now is a great time for strong heroines, and Harley Quinn is one of the most interesting and lively ones. Read the full article

#comics #HarleyQuinn

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mattness · 6 years ago

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Space Dementia

Another chapter is here, my dear! Again I warn you about errors and mistakes. I'm a lazy translator, forgive me hahah)) OTP: Jennifer Wright/Robert Grey (Pennywise, It)

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Chapter X.

On the threshold of the kitchen was a clown, somehow leaning on the door jamb. He was wearing a gray-and-white puffy dress with orange buttons, but it wasn't as conspicuous as the blood and dirt that stained the whole suit. Red hair stuck out in different directions, and on top of the bald spots could be seen. There was also blood on the snow white face with the red nose and stripes continuing the smile. It dripped long black streams from his mouth directly on the floor, and crazy shining orange eyes looked somewhere through Jen. His left eye was squinting, and that made it hard to see where the clown was looking.

Jen was afraid to move, hearing the unexpected visitor breathing heavily and chuckling softly. Something inside told her that this madman had come to kill her, but somehow he hadn't attacked her yet. Apparently, forces were not.

"Who are you?" Jennifer asked, holding the bat firmly in place. She cursed herself inwardly, realizing how foolish her question had just sounded. "Get out of my house!" "B-ba..." suddenly began to utter clown, making a hesitant step forward, "b-baby, don't you r-r-recognize m-me?" Wright frowned, not understanding. "No! Get out!" "J-Jenni, baby, it's time to f-float", he said, and stepped up again. Jennifer opened her mouth in surprise, not believing her own eyes. Looking more closely, she was able to see behind the stage make-up Robert Grey's face. He was bleeding and completely covered in mud, barely able to stand and was ready to fall to the floor. With his last strength Grey smiled at her and fell with a crash. "Robert?!" stunned brunette cried out, immediately dropping the bat to the side and sat down next to him. She never expected that Grey come to her house. Yes, Jennifer was counting on them to make up after what happened, but…She didn't know it would come out this way. She didn't know he'd show up at her house in a stupid clown suit and covered in blood. "What the hell happened?" whispered to herself under a nose Jen, looking like a black puddle under him slowly increases in size. * * * Two weeks ago Jen went into the house, changing her sneakers for slippers. The quiet noise of the TV made the girl smile and she crept into the living room. Chester was sitting in a chair near the floor lamp, his glasses slightly lowered from the bridge of his nose, reading a book. Noticing daughter, he smiled affably. The book was immediately put aside on the bedside table. "I see, the working day was a success", Chester grinned, his arms crossed over chest. Jennifer smiled sheepishly. "Who is he, Jen?" the first thing her father asked. "You saw us?" "Well, it's hard not to notice standing about ten minutes under the windows of Aston Martin", laughed the man, slowly rising from chair. Jennifer, still embarrassed, felt her cheeks burn treacherously. Father took a step toward the exit from the living room. Suddenly time slowed down. The room swam before his eyes. A sharp pain pierced his entire body. His heart shrank to the smallest size, abruptly stopping the blood. The air in the living room was not enough. His legs buckled, and Chester, clutching heart, fell to the floor. "Dad!" Jennifer cried out in horror, jumping up to him at once. "Daddy!" Tears rained down from her eyes, confusing. The girl tried to get the father in feeling, but nothing worked. He stopped breathing. Jen grabbed the phone and with trembling fingers somehow typed the emergency number. She prayed that the ambulance would come as soon as possible. She was afraid that her worst fears would come true for the first time. The ambulance, fortunately, was not long in coming. Paramedics immediately determined the reason for the sudden stop of the heart of Chester Wright. They tried to make the organ work again with the help of defibrillators. Jen wanted to do something, but she couldn't. Tears continued to run down her cheeks, and mind did not want to accept what had just happened. She watched as the paramedics in white coats bustled around, shifted her father to a portable stretcher and immediately drove away in the car. "Miss Wright, I ask you to control yourself", the chief paramedic of the ambulance said firmly. "You should come with us." The girl nodded and, closing the front door of the house, got into the car. The doctors were still trying to bring Chester back to life. With another discharge of the defibrillator, a weak pulse finally appeared. Jen breathed out a sigh of relief. She was immensely grateful to the paramedics, who continued to fuss, trying to save the life of her dearest person. The car drove quickly through the empty roads of Derry straight to the Central hospital. Loud siren attracted the attention of long-sleeping residents. Jen held on tightly to the hand of the dad, trying to calm down and soothe her tantrum. Pain overwhelmed her, making shudder she with sobs. Why is this happening now? Why? Why did it happen to her father? Why not with someone else? Why? The girl could not understand and find answers to these questions. Everything was happening in slow motion. The car stopped, and the paramedics, along with the stretcher on which Chester was lying, ran out of it, heading for the hospital. Jen somehow got to her feet and hurried after them. Before her eyes stood the familiar white corridors with numerous doors. The muffled working noise seemed to be transported straight from a recent dream into reality. The nurse sitting in the reception immediately stopped the brunette and asked her to explain everything. Jennifer found a little strength and told how her father suddenly had a heart attack. Having registered a new patient, the nurse pointed to the girl on the place for visitors. Jen nodded and walked slowly to the bench. Before her eyes all floated, and the tears flowed with renewed vigor. She clutched her head, silently praying to God to save her father's life. Now for Jennifer this was the most the main. * * * ...One hour followed another. Time dragged on painfully long, and expectation with uncertainty drove mad. The girl nervously bit her lip, not noticing how the hospital gradually becomes quiet. In the middle of the night there was no one in the corridors. At the other end of the hospital, separated by a door that led to the Department with the wards for patients, turned out the light. Jen peered into the depths, suddenly feeling an unpleasant déjà vu. She had been to Derry's hospital before, not in reality, but in her own dreams. In terrible nightmares. Now was happening all the same, that and in one of past dreams. Wright realized that the man she was so worried about was her father. And if you believe in prophecy, at the end of the corridor should appear… Jen frowned when she noticed Robert, who had somehow appeared here. All the tender feelings that she felt for him, immediately withdrew into the background, replaced by the very real hatred. The girl wanted to pounce on him and scratch that perfect sugary face in the blood. He is the cause of all disasters. Wherever he goes, that's where people died. He kills them. He and only he! Now, even the absence of any precise evidence on this occasion she did not care. Jennifer was sure it was Robert Grey's fault. "Ms. Wright", gently called her the head doctor of the hospital, holding a clipboard. The girl was distracted from Grey, who was still talking to the nurse at the front desk. She rose from seat in front of the man in the white robe, wiping the tears from her flushed and swollen face. "How is my father, doctor?" as calmly as possible asked Jennifer, softly clearing his throat. "We did everything we could", the doctor assured her, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "He'll live. But now he needs peace." "Good", the girl nodded. "You should rest, too, Miss", he remarked, frowning. "You can't improve the situation by sitting here until morning. I think Mr. Wright would agree with me. Go home and get some sleep. Come tomorrow at visiting hours." Jen shook her head, crying again. "I can't leave him alone!" "Miss..." "I can't!" the girl's voice broke into a scream. "Jenni", came Robert's gentle voice, whose hands fell gently on her shoulders. The brunette immediately shuddered, turning sharply to him. Grey stared at her, not understanding. He wanted to make it better, but it caused a completely opposite reaction. Not what Robert expected. Now the man foresaw Jennifer's hysteria on the grounds of possible loss of a loved one. Grey found her despair mixed with hatred and pain. They were disgustingly bitter because of the tears, so he didn't even try to absorb them. "Get outta here!" Jen yelled furiously, pounding him with her fists. "It's all because of you! You put him in the hospital! This is all your fault!" Robert gritted his teeth, catching the girl's hands and gripping her wrists tightly. She tried to break away, but the man squeezed her skin harder, causing her pain. The girl hissed, still struggling. "Let me go right now!" "Mister, calm the girl down and get her out of here", the chief physician said sternly, looking at Grey's calm face. "She breaks discipline and curfews hospital." He nodded in response and dragged Jennifer along with him. The brunette continued to resist and scream, attracting the attention of all the nurses and doctors. Everyone looked at her like she was mad. The doctors had already prepared a couple of syringes with sedatives and sleeping pills. Grey felt them about to lose control, so he tried to speed up his pace. Once on the street, he pushed the girl away from him. Jen somehow stood on her feet, brushing her wet hair from face and turning to Grey. "What kind of circus are you doing here?" Robert asked coldly, reducing the distance between them. "Do you want to be tied up and sent to a mental hospital?" "What business is it of yours?" Jennifer hissed angrily. "You'll get rid of me! I got you. It's you! You kill those missing people, cover your tracks carefully, and…" "What the fuck are you talking about, Jennifer?! Listen to yourself!" Robert studiously portrayed puzzling a man, not understanding, as she so quickly saw through his. Today everything was fine... She dreamed of passionate kisses and making love with him, and now she almost hated him for something that he really wasn't involved. Yes, Robert felt Chester Wright's body weaken, but he really didn't do anything. It was a natural and irreversible human process to which Robert had nothing to do. Killing with his mind, and even at a distance, he certainly did not know how. At least that wasn't on his list of alien abilities. Grey knew exactly what he could do with a human. And, by the way, the death of Chester Wright was not to his advantage. "What am I talking?!" the brunette was indignant, wiping her tears again. The blue eyes, filled with hatred and pain, turned red. "How do you explain to me that wherever you go, people disappear right away, huh? Or your extraordinary ability to materialize where I am, even though I don't remember ever telling you where I am!" Robert irritably rolled her eyes, pulling out of his pocket a cigarette and preparing to smoke. The girl immediately went angry and pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, throwing it aside. He sighed heavily, pursing his lips. "So what? Nothing to say? Or was everything I had assumed to be true?" "I'm waiting for you to calm down", the man snorted with displeasure, calmly taking out another cigarette. Jennifer with the force pushed Robert from herself. He stepped back a few steps, frowning. In the green eyes immediately appeared a reddish spots, but the man cleverly held back his anger. He knew very well that tomorrow Jen would regret it and come running to him, begging for forgiveness. Yes, he was one hundred percent sure of that. So Grey didn't say a word about her correct assumptions. It's too early for him to reveal his true nature to her. Jennifer's mind hasn't completely gone mad yet. Need to lay the groundwork for the new information she's about to receive. "Get out! Get the hell out of here!" in despair, cried the girl, making her voice began to tremble treacherously. "I don't want to see you again! Get the fuck out of my life, you're bitch!" Only grinning, Grey shrugged and calmly turned on the heels of his patent leather boots, headed for his expensive car. He felt the surprised and discouraged look of Jennifer, who did not understand. Apparently, she thought he would continue to insist on his own, or at least try to explain. However, something went wrong. Wright watched in complete stupor as he got into the car and started the engine. She grabbed her head, settling on the cold asphalt and succumbing to a new attack of hysteria. What had she done?! Jen sobbed loudly, choking on her own tears. The girl imagined how pathetic and pitiful looked, but nothing could help it. Pain bound every movement and the realization of loss didn't give rest. Jennifer leaned forward, pressing her forehead to the road and praying to God that she would die right here and now. "I'm such a fool..." murmured to herself the girl, crying about ten minutes leaning on the road. The dark blue Aston Martin had long since left, making it clear to Jen that she had lost her last hope of solace on that dreadful night. She had lost a man who trusted her and was probably ready to love her. Jennifer swore again and somehow got to her feet. She really need to follow the doctor's advice and relax. Tomorrow morning everything will be fine. She'll see her father again, who will be glad to see her. Everything will be fine as usual. However, this "fine" will no longer with Robert. * * * Having bought a bunch of oranges in the morning, she went to the hospital the next day. She had to take a taxi because she couldn't pedal the bike. The night hysteria had done a terrible thing to Jen: first, her face was swollen, and the blood vessels in her eyes were broken; secondly, the whole body was cramped with unpleasant cramps with pain; well, and thirdly, she sent to hell the only person who had been paying special attention to her lately. Never before has such a broken Jennifer felt. She didn't know what to do, and now she was hoping for support from her father. Although yesterday he got the most. Throwing her snow-white robe over her shoulders, Wright quietly opened the door to the room where her father lay. She carefully looked into the room and immediately got a tired, but loving gaze of brown eyes. "Jenni", Chester called faintly, with a faint smile. "How are you, sunshine?" "Terrible, daddy", Jen breathed, sitting down in a chair by the hospital bed. "I thought I lost you yesterday." "I'm all right. I'll lie here for a couple of weeks and be as good as new", Mr. Wright assured her, and gently stroked her black hair. "You shouldn't have worried so much. All eyes are red, Jennifer." She barely held back her tears, painfully biting her lower lip. "Don't cry, baby girl", quietly chuckled the man, when Jen buried her face in the blanket. He continued to stroke her head reassuringly. "Everything will be okay, Jennifer. Better tell me about your boyfriend. Because I kind of ruined your night." The girl gave a snort, turning her head and looking at father. Even though he was chained to a hospital bed, he kept joking and behaving as if nothing had happened. Good mood Chester could convince her that everything really will be fine. "He's gone, dad", Jennifer admitted honestly, and a single tear rolled down her cheek, falling straight onto the blanket. "How is that? You were almost happy yesterday, and today he left you?" Mr. Wright was perplexed. "I chased him away. He came to the hospital yesterday to calm me down, and I got mad and yelled at him", she said with a sob, again burying her nose in the blanket. "Oh, Lord, what have I done, dad?" Chester sighed, not knowing what to say. Now she reminded him of Mary, who was sometimes just as quick-tempered and could do all sorts of stupid things. Then Wheeler regretted it very much and always begged for forgiveness, and he always forgave. Mr. Wright hoped that in time Jen's occasional temper would come to naught, and that would allow her to be happy. He sincerely wished his daughter happiness. "Do you think he likes you?" Chester asked cautiously, feeling Jenni's fingers squeeze his hand. "It seemed to me that, yes", sadly replied the girl, painfully biting lower lip. "If the guy is not a fool, I think he will show up after some time", smiled her father, and the girl herself could barely contain a smile. She always wondered how her father had managed to give her confidence in the future with a few insignificant phrases. No one closer and kinder dad on this planet for her not was. The incident and the disease is now forced to appreciate and love him more. Jen began to cherish every minute she spent with her father. * * * Present days Jennifer somehow dragged Robert to the second floor of the house to her room and laid him on the bed. She checked to see if he had a pulse, but it didn't work. Grey's icy hands made the girl terrified. Something was wrong with him. He wasn't breathing, but she refused to touch him. Abundantly flowing down from a clown's costume blood stained all around. Jen tried to find the wound by unbuttoning his coat, but found nothing. There was not a scratch on his snow-white skin, which made her frown. Suddenly Robert began to cough, causing the girl to flinch. Black liquid, little resembling blood, filled his mouth and flowed plentiful masses. Jennifer helped him to spit, and Grey immediately came to himself, breathing noisily in the air. Wild orange eyes, he looked at Wright, who didn't understand. "Robert, are you all right?" she doubted it very much. Without answering, he tried to get up and made his way to the door of the room. Grey, as if drunk, staggered from side to side, over and over again spitting incomprehensible black liquid. "Kill... Kill!" somehow Jennifer were able to decipher his unintelligible mumbling. He growled like an animal, looking for the cause of all his troubles. Turning, Grey bared his black-stained fangs and decided to pounce on the frightened girl, but the strength of it was not. Wright confidently came when he reached for her hand. Suddenly on the bare chest of Robert, the girl noticed the bullet hole. "Jesus, have you been shot?" horrified Jen, looking into his eyes, orange iris which is very red around the edges. The clown nodded, moaning faintly and giggling at the same time. Blood dripped from his mouth, and a hand tightened into a white glove that was completely covered in dirt, forcefully squeezed the girl's cheeks. He made her look at him, causing the brunette to flinch. An unpleasant chill ran down Jennifer's back, as she noticed Robert's sharp fangs filling his mouth. She still hoped it was all some nightmare she was having. "Help me, sweetie", Grey whispered softly. "Get... G-get out this stuff of me..." Jen quietly squeaked, feeling like a stronger man's hand squeezed her jaw. "Help me... And I won't kill you, Jennifer", he smiled softly and at the same time rapaciously, and the blood began to run down his chin again. "Okay", with fear to squeeze out the girl and made to lie clown on her bed. With every minute his breathing became heavier. The devil's red eyes stared up at the ceiling, and Robert waited patiently for Jen to get over it. The girl removed the obstructing fabric and touched the hands of a bullet wound. Fortunately, the bullet entered shallow, and it could be removed without difficulty. Noticing the scissors on the bedside table, Wright immediately grabbed them and began to pull the bullet out of the profusely bleeding hole. As soon as Jen had done what was necessary, she stared in surprise at the tiny creature that had nearly killed Grey. The bullet was silver in the light of the room lamps. Robert exhaled a sigh of relief and watched calmly as the wounds on his body slowly began to heal. The girl once again experienced a real shock, watching him. Putting the bullet on the nightstand with the scissors, she decided to clean the house, because half of the corridor, the whole kitchen, her room and the stairs were stained with blood suddenly appeared Robert. Jen quietly got up from bed, thinking that Grey needs to rest. He closed his eyes and seemed to have fallen asleep. The next moment, however, Robert grabbed the brunette by the arm and she stared at him in surprise. "Thank you", the clown said with his lips. The girl smiled wanly in response and hurried away from the room, trying in her head to understand what happened. * * * Robert more or less awake until the early hours slept in the room Jen. She has quietly got ready and left for work. Now she had to perform not only the duties of the packer of goods, but also the cashier. Riley, who loved to show up before anyone else, is missing. The authorities did not say a word about it, and Jen quietly continued to work together with the other colleagues. Two weeks had passed since Chester had been hospitalized with a heart attack, and his rehabilitation was a success. He felt fine and was on the mend. Jennifer hoped that he would be released from the hospital any day now, and she would look after him at home. Trying to drive away the bad thoughts, she tried to fix everything that destroyed that ill-fated evening. Hatred for Robert had long since gone, and the accusations against him now seemed so baseless. God, what's gotten into her? She was so ashamed of herself! She was especially ashamed after he showed up at her house last night in a stupid clown suit. Jennifer desperately wanted to know what had happened to him, and who had shot him with bullets of pure silver. However, Grey's condition left much to be desired, so she left him alone, deciding to postpone all inquiries for later. "Again scribbling to your beloved?" Emily, the store's sales assistant, asked. A dark-skinned woman straightened her lush hair and stood next to her, leaning on the counter. "Yeah, he misunderstood me", Jen put the phone tried to lie, to be left alone. "If he really care, he would have answered at once", she smiled, making Wright dissatisfied rolled his eyes. "It's more complicated than you think." She squeezed the bridge of her nose with two fingers and sighed again. Jennifer always knew that in the relationship's question her understands only Tyra. However, her friend now could not listen to her stupid problems, she went to Los Angeles for work and was completely absorbed by this, so to call each other has become problematic, not only because of different time zones. "Well, I don't know", Emily shrugged and, noticing the new customer on the doorstep, turned her attention away from Jen. "I would on your place already three hundred times get out him of my brain." Wright snorted and looked at the man who had come to choose clothes. The girl looked more closely at him, suddenly recognizing him as Roy Gordon. She was so embarrassed that she was ready to hide in the warehouse, just not to talk to a former classmate. And how the wind that womanizer has brought in Derry? What is he even doing here? Why the hell did he decide to go to this particular store? Jennifer mentally cursed everything in the world for such an unexpected "gift" of fate. Luckily for the girl, he didn't look at the shopkeepers much. The man enthusiastically chose his pants, and Jane looked at the computer monitor, which were displayed images from CCTV cameras. Roy carefully chosen, as if trying not to make a mistake in the choice and price. He looked at the tag of one of pants and, apparently, checking the size and price, confidently went to the cashier. "Hell, even did not try on, asshole", hissed angrily Jennifer under her breath, trying to keep a straight face. Roy went to the cash register and put the blue pants on the table. The girl immediately took off the magnets and, without looking up at the buyer, punched the price tag. "Hey, I think I know you", Gordon said suddenly, putting the money out of his wallet. "You're Jennifer, right? We went to university together, remember?" "Hi", Jen smiled tightly, finally looking up at him and handing him the change. "I remember." "What wind brought you here?" Roy asked, leaning on the table and deciding to talk to her. He carefully assessed the whole look of the girl, mentally noticing that she is very good. There was no reason Gordon didn't pay attention to her on campus. "Yeah... Work. Temporarily", without much interest, replied the girl, continuing to mentally curse all around. "What are you doing here?" "I'm passing. I just dropped by for one day, then I will go to Pennsylvania", the man admitted with a radiant smile. "Can we go out tonight?" Jennifer arched her right eyebrow questioningly, once again marveling at the frivolity of the man she had once been crazy about. Now she with joy been mulling, that this time finally passed. However, not everything changes over time, especially people. Jen figured out in head a thousand options on how to dump Gordon, but she did not say a word as the door to the shop opened again. Roy and Jennifer turned their attention to the new visitor. She felt like heart skipped a beat and her legs were like cotton treacherously. Her cheeks flushed red, and a pleasant warmth filled her body. Robert stood in the doorway, his hands in his pants pockets. Green eyes quickly found Jen, and on chubby lips instantly emerged smile. Grey looked as if he'd left a beauty salon and as if he hadn't been dying hours before. "So... What about dinner?" Roy asked, for whom the new visitor was nothing. But not for Jennifer, who suddenly became not herself. "Emily, cover for me at the register!" girl shouted the colleague, completely ignoring Gordon and heading to the man that so patiently waited for her. Colleague Jen immediately appeared in her place and smiled to Roy. He was completely frustrated, not understanding why he was ignored. "Hey, you didn't answer my question!" "Leave her be, lad", burst out laughing Emily, watched Jen and Robert. Meanwhile, Robert Grey calmly walked Jennifer out of the store. The girl nervously bit her lip, thinking where to start the conversation. Robert studied her carefully, knowing that he had arrived at the right time. The man literally saved her from the annoying guy from the past, who suddenly decided to get a date. Inside Robert something unpleasant clenched, he had to see this scene. No one had the right to attempt his potential victim, except himself, of course (by the way, yesterday's attempt was unsuccessful). However, Grey knew who to eat for dinner tonight. "Rob, tell me, please", Jennifer hesitantly began, clearing his throat, "what happened yesterday?" "What are you talking about?" the man asked in surprise, shrugging. Of course, he knew exactly what Wright meant. Why did Pennywise come to her in the middle of the night covered in blood, on the verge of life and death? He genuinely wanted to get rid of it, thought, that tickles. However, the plan failed miserably. Pennywise made a mistake for the first time, and paid for it. It thought it's die if Jennifer hadn't helped. Luckily, she managed to get the silver bullet that was eating away at him. However, he had to spoil half of the girl's house, but this he did not spare. Jennifer not understanding him. "You came to me yesterday in a stupid clown suit, bleeding to death", she said nervously. "Asking for help. I took a bullet out of you, and you passed out." "Did you miss me so much that you made it all up?" Grey grinned, moving to Jen on the step. "B-but the blood... I was up all night scrubbing the whole house from the black blood", embarrassed brunette finally starting to get confused in everything. "You were dying…" The man chuckled, hugging Wright's shoulders and noticing the familiar confusion in her blue eyes. She tried to understand, where truth and lies, where reality, and where fiction. The girl sighed heavily, glancing at Robert. He was perfectly fine and seemed to feel just fine. Maybe she really was imagining it? Or was it really a terrible nightmare? But it was so real... Jen was afraid of losing her mind over everything that was going on in her life. "I'm sorry, Jenni, for leaving you at such a difficult time", Rob began suddenly, leaning over her face. "I'm not going anywhere else, baby." She smiled sadly at Grey, hoping very much that she would. She clung to him, closing her eyes and feeling his hands gently stroking her back.

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duhragonball · 6 years ago

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[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (109/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation. This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

Previous chapters conveniently available here.

[21 February, 233 Before Age. Interstellar Space.]

"Six Saiyans all at once? You must be slowing down in your old age, little mammal. I remember a time when you defeated fifty without breaking a sweat."

In the sickbay of Luffa's star-yacht, Dr. Topsas applied bandages made of his own webbing to Luffa's wounds. On occasion, he would hold out a section of his silk with two hands and smear a medicated gel onto one side with a third hand. Four other limbs supported the weight of his massive arachnoid body. He used the eighth to hold one of Luffa's hands as he worked.

"They were tougher than usual, that's all," Luffa said. "And I knew you'd be along to patch me up, so I didn't bother blocking their hits."

"Yes, of course," Topsas said as he wrapped up Luffa's right shoulder. "You meant to shred your forearm like this. Forgive me. It can be difficult for my untrained eyes to tell the difference. What seems to be a careless mistake is actually a masterful forgery."

"Ow!" Luffa said. While she had been watching him tend to her arm, one of his other limbs had stuck something into her thigh.

"A regenerative serum," Topsas explained, "to help repair that tendon in your leg. Most Saiyan patients might have caught me before I managed to inject them with it, but you acted as if you were completely unaware. It pleases me to see how much you trust me, Luffa."

"Look, I know you two missed each other," said Zatte, who had taken a seat on one of the other examination tables in the sickbay. "But could you cut the banter for a few minutes and tell me what's going on?"

"Some clown named Trismegistus is powering up Saiyans and sending them after me," Luffa said. "If Dotz hadn't foreseen their attack on Planet Lubegev, they would have wrecked the place and waited for me to hear about it and walk into their trap."

The revelation startled Zatte enough to make her forget her earlier impatience. "You mean they wanted to fight you?" Zatte asked. "That's crazy."

"I think you just defined the Saiyan species, Ms. Zatte," Topsas remarked.

"They weren't that crazy," Luffa said. "Their combined power gave me some trouble. Plus, they were very well-trained for fighting as a group. Pretty sure some of them used to serve in the Royal military. These guys would have been pretty talented, even before Trismegistus got ahold of them. With his Jindan treatments, they were pretty impressive. If they hadn't lost their nerve in the end, I might have been in some real danger."

"Define 'danger'," Zatte said.

Luffa looked at her and smiled. "They might have killed me."

"Yes, but let us remember that they did not kill you," Topsas said as he waved a diagnostic scanner across Luffa's back. "You prevailed over difficult odds, as we have all grown accustomed to seeing. Then you returned to the ship, where you will make a full recovery, much to the relief of your long-suffering wife."

"Thank you, doctor," Zatte said.

"Hey, I told you I was okay when I came on board," Luffa said.

Zatte pointed at Topsas. "I just like to hear it from him, all right?" she said. She looked at Dotz, who was lying in one of the beds, with an intravenous drip in her left arm. "I'm sorry, I should be thanking you. If Luffa hadn't known about this in advance, it could have turned out much worse."

"Oh, uh... well, I'm afraid I wasn't much help, ma'am," Dotz said. "I only forecast one Saiyan, not six, and I had no idea they'd be so powerful. If anything, I should be apologizing..."

"Oh, come on!" Luffa shouted. "You guys are acting like I lost back there. I had my back against the wall and I still kicked their asses! It was amazing, at least until the end when one of them turned coward. Isn't anyone happy for me?"

"In a word, no," Topsas said.

"Hell no," Zatte said.

"I still feel guilty about it," Dotz added.

"Well, too bad," Luffa harrumphed, "because this won't be the end of it. I may not have precognition powers like Dotz, but I've fought enough battles to know this Trismegistus isn't finished yet."

"What are you saying?" Zatte asked.

Luffa hobbled over to a chair and took a seat. With most patients, Topsas might have questioned the point of getting up from an exam table to sit in a chair only a few paces away, but he had learned to pick his battles carefully where Luffa was concerned.

"Those guys who jumped me on Lubegev had the same upgrade as Jolok, the Saiyan who put Dotz in a coma and tried to take me out on Quadzityz," she explained. "When Jolok and I fought, he told me he was defying orders by running off to fight me, but he did it anyway because he thought he could catch me off guard and take all the glory for himself."

"...And?" Topsas asked.

Luffa rolled her eyes and groaned. "Think about it!" she said. "If there were only seven of these jacked-up Saiyans, why wait to deploy them? Why draw it out, long enough for one of them to lose patience and run off to go into business for himself? The reason is that there's a lot more than seven. Trismegistus is trying to build an army of Saiyans with these powers. These six were supposed to be the first wave. A test, to see how well I'd do against them. But it would take a while to move that many pieces into place. Jolok couldn't wait that long, which is why he tried to start things early."

"The first wave?" Zatte asked. "Luffa, you make it sound like this is the start of a full-scale offensive!"

"Hah! You always say the sweetest things," Luffa said. "To be honest, I have no idea how many Saiyans are in league with Trismegistus. Once those six fail to report in, he'll know they weren't enough to beat me. So next time he'll send eight, or ten! If I beat them, he'll send more, assuming he has more to send. But I think he's thought that far ahead. One thing's for sure. There's plenty of Saiyans out there who'd love a chance to take me down, even if they have to gang up on me to pull it off."

"And how, little mammal, do you expect to defeat these enemies when you're still recuperating from the last battle?" Topsas asked.

"By doing the one thing those bastards would never expect," Luffa said as she rose out of her chair. For a moment, she seemed to strike a heroic pose, like a wounded warrior preparing for an epic last stand. Then, she shuffled over to the bed next to Dotz and lay down in it, pulling the covers over herself.

"I'm sorry, but what would that be?" Zatte asked.

"Following my doctor's orders!" Luffa exclaimed. "My body will get stronger with every battle I fight. As long as I stay one step ahead of my injuries, I ought to be able to keep up with Trismegistus' attacks. He thinks I'll run myself ragged trying to stop his goons, but I'll tackle them on my terms, not his. And then, when he's finally out of options, he'll have to give me what I want."

"What's that?" Dotz asked.

"King Rehval," Luffa said with a satisfied smirk. "If that bastard's not already mixed up with Trismegistus, then it's only a matter of time before he will be. They need each other. Trismegistus has a way to increase a Saiyan's power, so if he really wants the most out of it, he'll have to use it on the strongest Saiyan he can find, and that's still Rehval."

"What if you're wrong?" Zatte asked.

"Then I'll deal with it," Luffa said. "For now, all I can do is fight these guys with everything I've got."

"But what if that isn't enough?!" Zatte shouted. "What if they're too much for you?"

"Take it easy, would you?" Luffa said. "We can always ask for a second opinion."

Dr. Topsas cleared his throat before speaking. "I have little experience with such matters," he said, "but if you sincerely wish to hear my advice, then I would recommend--"

"Not you, Doc," Luffa said. "Dotz here is a fortune teller. She may have gotten the details wrong, but she knew when and where the Saiyan attack would happen. I bet she could predict the next one if we give her a chance."

"I'm not worried about where the Saiyans will strike next," Zatte said. "What I want to know is whether you'll still be alive when it's over!"

"Well that's easy enough," Luffa said. "Dotz can read my fortune, can't you, Dotz?"

Dotz was taking a drink of water when Luffa said this, and nearly spit it out. "I, uh... I'm not sure if I should get involved in this..." she said. "I wouldn't want to cause any hard feelings between the two of you."

"Don't swear it, Dotz," Luffa said. She reached across the space between their beds and offered her hand. "Zatte and I have been through tougher situations than this. And I'm a lot stronger now than I've ever been before."

"That isn't the point," Zatte said, putting her hands on her hips. "Dammit, you always get this way when you smell a worthy adversary."

"It's great, isn't it?" Luffa replied as Dotz began examining her open palm. "I feel like a kid again, hunting dinosaurs in the wild. I'd probably have trouble keeping still, but Doc wants me to rest, so it's sound tactical advice."

"I should really get to the bridge," Zatte said.

"What's wrong?" Luffa asked. "You don't want to know my future?"

"Oh, I'm sure you live to be a hundred, and you conquer the whole galaxy or something," Zatte grumbled.

"I'm sorry," Dotz said, "but I'm having some trouble."

"What is it?" Topsas asked. With a speed that belied his bulk, he moved to Dotz's bedside and checked the readings on medical sensors.

"No, I'm fine, doctor," she said. "What I meant was that I can't seem to read Luffa's palm."

"What is it?" Luffa asked. "Bad news?"

"No, it's..." Dotz swallowed hard as she tried to find the right words. "Well, it just... stops. Unless I'm doing something very wrong, Luffa, you have no future."

"How very melodramatic," Topsas said.

"Cool," Luffa said with an impressed smile.

"Wh-what?!" Zatte asked.

Dotz looked at Luffa's hand very carefully as she ran her fingers across her palm. "I've never seen anything like this before," she said apologetically. "I've been telling fortunes for thirty years, and I've never..."

"Hey, don't worry about it," Luffa said. "You're not fully recovered from your run-in with Jolok, so maybe that's got something to do with it. Besides, my species makes its own destiny. It'd be kind of boring to know how the movie ends, right, Zatte?"

But Zatte didn't answer. When Luffa looked up, she saw her running out of the sickbay, sobbing.

*******

[21 February, 233 Before Age. Interstellar Space.]

Cardune's entire life had been leading up to this moment. He had been so blind in his youth, wasting his talents on pointless battles, siezing just enough plunder to break even. Marriage, family, success, they had all been hollow pursuits, but he did not regret those years, for even these had been part of the plan that had been laid out for his life.

He loved Trismegistus, more dearly than he had loved anything before. The Thrice-Blessed One had transformed Cardune, perfecting him into his true self. In his former ignorance, Cardune had come to him seeking strength of the body, but Trismegistus had given him so much more than that. It made so much sense now. What good was physical might without harmony of the spirit? Only by balancing the mercurial and sulfurous essences in his soul could Cardune achieve his true potential. This was Jindan, the power that turned an ordinary Saiyan into the Universal Reagent. Through Cardune and others like him, Trismegistus would transform the entire universe.

There were difficulties, to be sure. No path worth following would be easy, least of all the Sacred Way. Cardune had sacrificed much in exchange for his newfound power. Trismegistus had taught him that this was the way of alchemy. It was best to forget what he had given up, so as to fully embrace what he had received. This was easier said than done. Often, Cardune caught himself thinking about his partner, and their daughter and son. Mostly, he wondered what had become of them after he was admitted into the cult. Once, he thought he had seen his daughter serving as an attendant to one of the high priests. It was hard not to be relieved, even proud, but this wouldn't do. Cardune had given up his family, so it was no longer his place to worry for their safety, or to take comfort in their prosperity.

This was why his joints ached from time to time. His emotional indiscretions interfered with his spiritual balance, which diminished the effectiveness of the Jindan formula in his body. Meditation helped. While it never seemed to improve his condition, it at least distracted himself from the pain, and kept him from dwelling on things he couldn't control. Like the clock on the wall of his quarters.

Trismegistus was an alchemist, possessed of the secrets of creation itself. For the Thrice-Blessed, remaking the universe was no different from a child mixing vinegar and baking soda. He never called himself a god, though somehow this seemed to make him seem even more noble, as if he were laying silent claim to something even higher than divinity. The Saiyans who belonged to his flock would become his Holy Reagent, the means by which he would effect his great work, but the kinetics of this act were a complete mystery. Mere acolytes like Cardune could not hope to understand. He was a glob of clay wondering when the potter would begin.

Cardune could only act on what he knew, which were the orders he was issued. He was given command of a starship, and he and his crew traveled to a particular location and held their position until the time was right. Their supplies were limited, as Cardune was expected to lead his crew in ritual fasting at certain intervals. Cardune found the hunger useful for diverting his attention from his own problems, but the other officers relied on their assigned consorts to distract themselves from their empty stomachs.

Sex was held in high regard within the Jindan cult. Trismegistus taught his followers that it was a means of balancing bodily humors. Through repeated physical intimacy, they could rid themselves of those essences they did not need, and replenish essences which they lacked. Ever a prudish species, the Saiyans found this polyamorous philosophy deeply disturbing, but this was part of the price for the Jindan power they all shared. Trismegistus had arranged a complex system to determine who was to sleep with whom. Higher ranking members were given greater freedom of choice in this, while the lower members had none. As the commander of his ship, Cardune could have anyone else on board whenever he wished, but he preferred to decline this privilege. Whenever he took a consort for the night, it only reminded him of the husband he gave up to join the cult, and so the entire exercise was self-defeating. He only partook as often as he did in order to set a good example for his crew.

Mostly, he spent his off-duty hours waiting in his quarters, letting his hunger and restlessness argue with his faith. His orders were to hold his position in deep space, maintaining radio silence and a cloaking field to avoid any possible detection. For three weeks, he and his crew had been cut off from the rest of the universe, waiting for a sign to move out. If it pleased Trismegistus, they would die here, waiting for his sign, and the ship would serve as their cosmic tomb. At times, Cardune wondered if their master had forgotten them. He forced himself to repeat the mantras he used during meditation, in an effort to refocus his devotion.

And then, at last, the sign came. Cardune hadn't known what to expect. There was no subspace radio transmission, no voice speaking to him in his mind. Just a feeling in the pit of his stomach, and a sudden urge to find his spear. All of Trismegistus' followers were issued spears. Along with the Jindan power and the Mindworm, which guarded them from telepathic assault, the spears were said to be the third of three blessings Trismegistus bestowed upon his flock. Cardune was never told what the spear was for, just that it was important. Now, as he found it leaned against the wall of his quarters, he began to appreciate its importance.

The head of the spear was shaped like the barbed point of a harpoon, and now it glowed a dull red color, though Cardune could feel no heat when he touched it. Instead, he felt an almost instinctive understanding that this was the moment he and his crew had been waiting for. Trismegistus had cast them into the darkness, and now he was summoning them back. And suddenly, the mental anguish Cardune had endured these past three weeks seemed to melt away. Gazing at the spear, he felt there was nothing he could not do, and he knew that his entire crew now shared the same feeling.

With a newfound sense of purpose, he stepped out of his quarters and headed for his post to order his ship into action.

*******

[21 February, 233 Before Age. Interstellar Space.]

On the bridge of Luffa's star-yacht, Zatte had finished crying, and somewhat awkwardly tried to get on with the work of checking the ship's systems. She could sense Luffa approaching the entrance to the bridge. For those who could sense ki, it was hard not to notice Luffa's presence on board. While she had the chance, Zatte turned away from the door and wiped her eyes one last time, in an effort to look a little less pathetic.

"Hey," Luffa said as she stepped through the doorway. "I would have been here sooner, but Doc thought I should give you some space."

"It's okay," Zatte said. "I'm fine, really."

"I'm sorry," Luffa said. "Whatever it is I've done, I'm sorry."

"No, you're not," Zatte said, finally turning to face her. "You can't be sorry for what you are. I'm sorry. I lost it back there. I let you down."

"What are you talking about?" Luffa asked.

Zatte turned and took her hands into her own. "You want to fight," she said. "It reminds me of the day the colony fell. You were covered in Tikosi blood, and we both expected to die there. You always told me how much you enjoyed that battle, and how impressed you were with me."

"I guess it is a lot like that," Luffa said. "I probably got a little too excited about this Trismegistus thing."

"I know you love this sort of thing," Zatte said. "But it scares me. It always has. Fighting is one thing, but against the kind of odds we faced on Dorlu Prime? I know that's a dream come true for you. Most days I can handle that. Today, I slipped. She said you had 'no future’ and I just couldn't..."

She pulled Luffa close and wrapped her arms around her tightly. "I want you to have a future!" she said. "I want to be there with you, and fight for your cause, and I'll burn for you if I have to, but I want to grow old with you too! I want one of us to die in the arms of the other, and if it's me, then I want you to leave my corpse behind wherever it happens to fall."

"Hey, I already promised you that at our wedding," Luffa said. "Dorlun funeral, all the way. I won't let your death get in the way of the living."

"And if you die first, then... then..."

"Of course," Luffa said, returning her embrace. "If we make it that long, that's what we'll do. But there's no guarantees. We won't make it there unless we fight for it. Every step of the way."

"You're right," Zatte said. "It's just... it's hard sometimes."

"It's okay," Luffa said. "It really is. You're allowed to be weak sometimes. Weakness is part of getting stronger. Look at me. I took a real beating on Lubegev, and now I've got to stay in bed and heal up."

"Can you really beat them?" Zatte asked.

"I think so," Luffa said. "But I won't know until I try. That's why I have no future, Zattie. The only future a Saiyan can have is the one she takes. It's whatever I make for myself."

They held each other for a time, and then an alert sounded from one of the bridge consoles. Luffa pulled away from Zatte to check it out. "It's a recorded message from the Federation Council," she said as she read the display. "What the hell do they want?"

She tapped the console to begin playing the message, and the main viewscreen displayed the image of a bald man with brown skin and a red military dress uniform. He smiled somewhat insincerely as he spoke into whatever recording device he was using. "Madam Federatrix," he said.

"Ryba Booth," Luffa said aloud, though she knew he couldn't hear her. There was a somewhat one-sided rivalry between them. Booth commanded a military dictatorship before Luffa forced him to co-found the Federation along with three of his adversaries. He longed for greater power over the Federation, to extend his personal rule to other worlds beyond his home planet of Despye, but Luffa's influence over the Federation made this impossible. She was too popular to outpolitick, and too powerful to overthrow. His only chance was to wait for her to fail on the battlefield, and then he could use his command over the Federation starfleet to usurp her position. The smile on his face suggested that he felt closer to that outcome than he had been in some time.

"If you are receiving this message, it is because I am unable to reach you directly. The Federation is under attack by an enemy fleet. I have deployed our own fleet to intercept the invaders, but intelligence indicates that many of them are Saiyans. Should any of them manage to land on an inhabited world, my ships may be incapable of dislodging them."

Luffa and Zatte exchanged concerned looks. "If these are anything like the Saiyans you fought on Lubegev--" Zatte began.

"I know," Luffa said. "Booth may have no idea what he's dealing with..."

"I'm including tactical charts with information on the planets most likely to be invaded. I believe the Saiyans will attempt to concentrate their forces on Gudgid III, so I've--" there was a disruption in the message, as the audio briefly devolved into static-- "hold the line for now. The Ninth Wing may be vulnerable, but--" Static again. "--ommend you join the battle at coordinates J58 by 126."

There was an interruption in the playback of the message. The image of Booth became distorted, and though he appeared to be speaking, the audio was gone. Luffa looked over to the navigator station, but Zatte had already there, plotting a course. "It'll take us four hours to get there," she said.

"Then we'd better hope Booth can last until then," Luffa said.

"Luffa, you're hurt," Zatte said.

"I know," she said. "I'll have to get creative when we get there. Let's take a look at his charts..."

"Luffa, you said you would rest," Zatte reminded her.

"I just want to take a look," Luffa said, "and then I'll go back to-- This... this can't be right!"

"What's wrong?" Zatte asked.

Luffa tapped a few keys on the console and put the charts on the main veiwer. "Look at this," she said. "Booth's showing Saiyan activity in at least two dozen star systems."

"Two dozen? But what about Gudgid III?" Zatte asked.

"I mean, they could converge on Gudgid," Luffa said. "Normally, that would make sense. Harass the border, keep the defenders spread out while they try to chase you down, and then concentrate your forces on a planet worth sacking. Booth's analysis is sound, or it would be if these were garden variety Saiyans. But if we're talking about Saiyans as strong as the ones I just fought... If these are more of those Saiyans jumped up with this magic power, and if they're all working for Trismegistus, then they could do more than just sack one planet and run for it. They could hold an entire sector or two if they play their cards right. It might take weeks to clear them all out!"

As Zatte looked at her wife's face, she saw her expression grow increasingly concerned. There could be no doubt now. In four hours, Luffa would fight again. And again. Perhaps she would prevail, but at what cost? This was the question Zatte wanted to ask, but she didn't want to break down into tears again, and so she asked another question instead.

"Even if we do clear them out, what'll be left of the Federation when it's over?"

NEXT: Fight Fire With Fire.

#dragon ball #fanficton #lssjluffafic #super saiyan #luffa #zatte #dr topsas #dotz #cardune #ryba booth

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hysterialevi · 7 years ago

Text

Legend pt. 3

Author’s note: Sorry these chapters haven’t been that frequent. Lately I’ve been running a bit low on motivation and I didn’t want to rush anything out, so that’s why these parts have been taking centuries to release lol. But I’m excited to get back to work, and I hope you all enjoy this fic. Thanks for being so patient and sticking with me through all these stories. Love you guys :)

From Bruce’s POV

THAT NIGHT

Rushing through Gotham’s streets in the Batmobile, John sat beside me and happily spoke to himself as we carried on with our nightly patrol, keeping an eye out for any criminals that could’ve been running amok.

Even though the clown was technically supposed to be hiding from the Agency right now, that didn’t stop him from wanting to help me with my work as Batman. And considering the situation we were in, I wasn’t in much of a position to turn him down.

Recently, the crime in Gotham had become relentless, and ironically, Waller’s presence didn’t do us any favors. If anything, the director and her agents just seemed like different types of criminals to me, and it was my job to get them out of the city. Fast.

I just hoped John would actually follow my code. I had no problem putting my trust in him, but he wasn’t exactly a man of restraint, and the last thing I needed was for someone to get killed tonight. Lord new this city had seen enough death.

“So, what’s the status, Bats?” John asked with an energized, toothy grin, breaking the silence. “See any baddies on the loose?”

I squinted slightly at the road ahead, gazing through the beams of my headlights.

“Nothing so far.” I replied. “Things have been pretty quiet tonight.”

“Why the nervous look?” He commented. “Isn’t that what we want? Or are you just getting bored? ‘Cause I certainly am. I wanna punch someone already! Hehe!”

“Well,” I said, hugging a corner, “I was expecting to see at least a robbery by now, but it’s been peaceful. A little too peaceful for my liking. It’s almost as if Gotham’s...waiting for something. Biding its time.”

John shrugged. “Sounding a bit paranoid there, buddy. But, hey. Who knows? Could be because of the Agency. I mean, heck -- if weirdos like me are hiding from them, I imagine common criminals would also want to keep out of their sights, too. Not to mention we are driving around in a giant murder machine. Not exactly subtle.”

“...That’s true, I guess.”

“Relax, Brucie,” he reassured with confidence, patting my shoulder. “I swear, you’re gonna have a full head of grey hair before the sun rises. You have a partner now, remember? This burden is no longer yours alone to bear. I promise, if I see anything out of the ordinary like that shattered window up there, you’ll be the first to know.”

A pang of realization hit me at that statement and I came to a sudden halt, causing John to lurch forward like a slingshot with a yelp.

“What?” I asked, taken by surprise. “Where?”

John regained his composure and peeled himself off the dash, pointing upwards at what appeared to be an apartment building.

“There...” he said with a slight groan. “I bet someone used it to break in.”

I furrowed my brow at the scene and prepared my gear, slowly exiting the Batmobile.

“...Or out. Come on. Let’s go take a look.”

THE APARTMENT

Grappling up to the broken window with my arm around John, the two of us landed on a simple balcony as we discreetly checked inside, making sure whoever caused this damage wasn’t still around.

“...See anything?” John whispered, peeking over the sill.

“Looks clear,” I observed. “But the apartment’s a mess. There was definitely some sort of struggle here. Be on your guard.”

Activating my earpiece, I contacted Alfred as John quietly hopped inside ahead of me, navigating his way around the toppled furniture.

“Alfred,” I said lowly, “John and I have come across a peculiar scene in a nearby apartment. It looks like a fight took place here...and a rather violent one at that. I’ll send you the address, but don’t call the GCPD just yet. I want to inspect the area first.”

“Of course, sir. Keep me updated...and please, be careful.”

Returning to the situation at hand, I started examining the wrecked apartment and the clues scattered around me as John conducted his own investigation, both of us trying to formulate a cause for this mess.

Some of the furniture had been broken, numerous dents had been beaten into the walls, and a flickering lamp rested on the floor along with some shards of glass. How did the neighbors not hear any of this? Were they simply gone when it happened? ...Or did someone make sure their lips stayed shut? I had to find out.

“Batman!” John called, beckoning me to the kitchen. He was kneeling down by something, but the counters in front of me blocked my view. I hurried over.

“What is it?” I asked. “Did you find anything?”

Carefully treading through the ruined furniture, I stepped next to my partner and crouched beside him, only to come to an abrupt pause when I noticed there was a man lying against the stove with a gun in his grip.

Both his shirt and hands had been stained with blood -- most-likely his own, considering the wound on his abdomen -- and his face was riddled with severe contusions. Judging by their freshness, this man was attacked today.

“...What do we do?” John questioned.

I reached for the man’s gun, checking the magazine. None of the ammunition had been depleted.

“He didn’t have a chance to fire,” I concluded. “The attacker must have taken him by surprise. Or at least been quick enough to bring him down before he could defend himself.”

John gazed at the disarray around us. “...Well, he certainly put up a good fight without the gun. Maybe he was trying to get to it?”

I nodded. “Possibly. Hang on a minute. I’m going to see if I can identify who this man is.”

I contacted Alfred again.

“Master Bruce,” he greeted, sounding relieved. “How goes the investigation?”

“There’s a body here,” I reported, “but I don’t recognize their face, and neither does John. I need you to search the database for any possible matches.”

“A body?” He repeated grimly. “Oh, dear. What do they look like?”

I scanned the victim. “Male. Caucasian. 185 centimeters. Short blond hair and a beard. Appears to be around his early thirties. Has a distinct series of tattoos on both arms and on the side of his neck. Scar just above the left brow bone.”

Alfred was quiet for a minute.

“...Find anything?” I checked.

The butler deemed successful.

“Sir, I’ve just looked up the address you sent me and cross-referenced that with any people who fit your description...and there’s only one match. His name was Joseph Hunt.”

I froze in shock, falling silent as I suddenly realized who this man was.

“Joseph Hunt?”

“That name mean something to you, Bruce?”

I examined the man, a series of memories rushing through my head as I observed his somewhat familiar features.

“I went to school with Joseph as a kid,” I concluded. “If I recall correctly, he was always quite the bully. Didn’t exactly have any friends. Clearly, not much has changed.”

“...Indeed,” Alfred confirmed in an uneasy tone, searching for more information about him. “According to the codex, Hunt had quite a troubled life. Despite going to the same school when you were children, it seems that the two of you took very different paths as adults.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Hunt lived a life of crime,” he explained. “It says here that he was involved in multiple robberies, drug deals, burglaries, and even an attempted murder. Of his own father, no less. He also worked with The Pact for a time. It...certainly raises the question of whether Hunt was the...true victim in this scenario.”

I caught on instantly. “You think someone killed him out of revenge?”

“It’s definitely a plausible explanation. You can’t commit that many felonies without making enemies, Bruce. Just look at Thomas. Behavior like that is always certain to be your undoing.”

I glanced at John for a moment who was still busy rummaging through the evidence around us, eagerly waiting for an update from me.

“True, but unfortunately that doesn’t really narrow it down,” I countered. “There were loads people working with The Pact, and who knows who he was mixed up with before then? I only know one of his victims personally, and they’re in prison right now. It had to be someone else.”

Alfred paused. “Wait, you know one of his victims?”

“Yeah,” I responded casually. “Oswald Cobblepot. He’s not a victim of Hunt’s crimes -- as far as I’m aware -- but he was one of the kids Joseph would bully back in school. And I’d always be the one to protect him...” my voice softened at the recollection, and I couldn’t deny that I felt a tad nostalgic thinking about my childhood.

But I quickly snapped back to reality with a gentle cough, bringing my focus back to the crime scene. “Ahem. Like I said though, he’s in prison. So it couldn’t have been him.”

Alfred was unconvinced. “...The Batcomputer would disagree.”

My mind went into a state of alarm. “What are you talking about?”

“Official records would tell you that Cobblepot is still being held in Blackgate, when in reality, he was released just two days ago at the request of the Agency. For what reason however, I couldn’t tell you. Details are close to nonexistent.”

“Dammit,” I cursed. “Why would the Agency set someone like Oswald free? They know what he’s done -- what the Penguin’s done. Surely, they wouldn’t trust him...but then again, Waller does have a habit of using criminals in place of her own men. I mean, look at Harley and Selina. Hell, she even slapped a collar on Bane. I guess there’s really nothing stopping her from recruiting one extra pair of hands.”

Alfred agreed. “I’m afraid you could be correct, sir. Question is: why now? And why Oswald? Out of all people, what’s convinced Waller that she needs his help? Nothing good, that’s for sure.”

“We’ll figure that out later,” I said. “Right now, I need to deal with Joseph. We can’t just leave him here--”

“--The hell?!” A man’s voice interrupted. “Get away from me...!”

Whipping around at the sudden outburst, I let out a quiet gasp when I saw that -- contrary to what I was expecting -- Joseph was actually still alive, and attempting to swat John away with a very weak, bloodied arm.

“Geez!” The clown exclaimed. “I was only trying to help!”

Joseph’s head whirled towards me, revealing a pair of fatigued, darkened eyes.

“...Batman?” He breathed out, recognizing my mask instantly. “When’d you get here...? What’s...what’s happening?”

I carefully approached the panicked man.

“It’s all right, Joseph,” I comforted in a low, but gentle tone. “You’re safe now. My partner and I just arrived a few minutes ago.”

That only seemed to confuse him more.

“You know who I am? How do you...ah, what the hell. I don’t even care anymore. What do you want from me? You here to arrest me?”

I knelt down next to him.

“Slow down, Joseph. We’ll get to that, but I need to ask you a few questions. First things first: do you remember what happened? Or when it happened? Do you know who the assailant was?”

Joseph appeared to relax slightly, and his shoulders slouched out of relief, but the rest of his temperament still felt incredibly restless.

“...I-It was...after I got home,” he recalled, his body limp with exhaustion. “Don’t know what the exact time was, but the sun was down already.”

“Where were you before that?” I asked. A faint look of shame spread across his face.

“The Stacked Deck. I go there quite a lot. Guess that’s why it was so easy for the attacker to figure out my schedule.”

I found that a bit strange. “Wait, you think they were studying you?”

Joseph shrugged. “It would make sense. I mean, when I opened the door, he was just...standing there. Right in the middle of my own, goddamn apartment. Like he was expecting me or something.”

“That does seem odd,” I agreed. “Any idea who he was?”

The shame in his expression grew even more prominent at that, and his head lowered out of guilt.

“I was gonna shoot him at first,” Joseph confessed, gesturing to his gun, “but when he told me who he was... When I finally saw his face... I just...couldn’t. A stupid fuckin’ move, I know, but I just didn’t have it in me.”

I urged him to go on. “Who was he? Do you have a name?”

His lifeless stare sharpened with concern, and his jaw tightened out of anxiety.

“...Oswald Cobblepot.”

Shit, I thought to myself. Alfred was right.

But...it still didn’t make any sense. Joseph wasn’t a saint, sure, but he never caused enough trouble for the Agency to notice him. At least, not while I was with them.

So, why would they let Oswald go after him? What did Waller gain from killing some random criminal? Was Joseph really that much of a hindrance to them? I doubted it. This whole situation was a mystery...and I had the feeling Joseph knew more than he was letting on. But it was time I let the GCPD in. If the Penguin was back on the streets, they needed to be aware.

“I think I’ve heard enough,” I concluded, rising back to my feet. “John, keep an eye on him. I’m going to contact GCPD.”

“Wait!” He insisted. “...Do you really think handing him over to them is a good idea?”

I halted mid-action, my hand paused just beside my earpiece.

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it,” John continued. “Waller has her boot on Gordon’s neck right now, and she’s certainly not interested in helping Batman at the moment. If we give Joseph to her, who knows what’ll happen? She could just finish the job behind closed doors, and then we’d never figure out the rest of the puzzle! Besides, this guy was with the Pact! And he clearly has history with that Cobblepot punk, too. He might know some things we don’t. Things that we can keep hidden from Waller...”

I mindlessly began to lower my hand.

“...That’s...actually a good point,” I admitted. “But what would you suggest we do with him instead, then? Like I said before, we can’t just leave him here.”

John scratched the back of his head in thought. “Why not bring him back to the cave?”

I stared at him in bewilderment. “You’d let him inside the heart of our operations?”

“You know me, Batsy,” the clown reminded, placing a palm over his chest. “I have a knack for reading people -- just like I read you back when we first met -- and something tells me we can trust him.”

I crossed my arms. “And if we can’t?”

John scoffed. “Pfft, you’re Batman, for Pete’s sake! What’s one common criminal to deal with if things go awry? We could handle him easily! Unless, of course, you’d rather risk Waller getting her hands on him...”

I sighed in defeat, glancing back at Joseph reluctantly.

“...I’ll consider accepting his help,” I announced, causing John to clap excitedly, “but we’re not taking him to the cave. Not for now. In the meantime, get him to the Batmobile. If we’re going to move him anywhere, we need to patch him up first.”

Pulling Joseph’s arm around his shoulder, John eagerly lugged our new “friend” to safety and gave me an approving thumbs-up, strolling away merrily. Meanwhile, the other man wearily stared at me in wonder -- almost as if he had been expecting a much worse outcome -- and simply allowed my partner to drag him off as he said a quick word.

“...Thank you, Batman.” Joseph croaked, his voice raspy and wounded. “A man like me doesn’t deserve your help, but you gave it anyway. I won’t...I won’t forget this.”

I nodded firmly at him. “You refrained from taking a life tonight, Joseph. I’m sure you’re a better man than you think.”

He brought his eyes to the floor in sorrow, a hint of regret coating his intense gaze.

“Yeah...I used to tell myself the same thing.”

#telltale games #telltale batman #the enemy within #bruce wayne #oswald cobblepot #john doe #joker #cobblebats #batjokes #fanfic #story

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diyunho · 5 years ago

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The Joker x Reader - “Queen Of The Damned”

In the whole eternity, The Queen of the Underworld only loved once: he was mortal and died shortly after she gave him a child. So when The Joker says he’s a Prince, he’s not actually lying or being a presumptuous lunatic: the green haired man is in fact royalty and sole heir to The Realm Below.

“Stop fidgeting!!!” the nurse admonishes. “This is a new experimental drug and it will help you, OK?” she tries to reason with the patient confined inside a straitjacket, heavy chains bounding him to the metal table.

“Let me go!” he hisses and tries to bite her as she checks his neck for pulse.

“I can’t let you go, Mister Joker. We’re trying to make you better, alright?” the caregiver dodges his teeth before J can sink them in her flesh.

“If you don’t untie me, my Mother will come!!! She doesn’t like it if I’m in danger!”

“Shut the hell up, you insane bastard!” the attending physician can’t hold in his bitterness while mixing the serum.

“Doctor Reeves!” the woman raises her voice. “That’s not the way we talk! I know you are new at Arkham Asylum, but I would really appreciate it if you treat our cases with respect!”

“I’m sorry,” the physician apologizes for his unprofessional remark. “He gets on my nerves!”

“Yes well… Please keep your personal opinions to yourself because they’re not doing any good! The patient is very agitated; would you like me to take over?” she offers and gets cut off.

“I don’t need your expertise, I’m a doctor for God’s sake!”

“I wasn’t implying otherwise,” the nurse sighs at his obvious crankiness; why does she have to be stuck during the night shift with Reeves?! Arkham’s South Wing is already harboring the worst criminals and a psychiatrist that took the job for the thrills can’t possibly render assistance to the troubled convicts incarcerated here.

“I’m done,” he taps the syringe and approaches The Joker when the lights suddenly flicker. “Another power outage?! The storm is not that bad!” the guy rants and doesn’t realize the prisoner is not struggling to escape anymore.

“My Mother’s coming!” the most demented smile flourishes on The Joker’s lips. “I warned you!” he maniacally starts laughing with delight. “You should have listened!”

A low rumble shakes the immense building and the convoluted hallways fill up with mist: the Queen of The Realm Below steps in the world of the living again, surrounded by her loyal army of twisted warriors.

“Protect The Prince!” the invisible wraiths shriek, crawling on the walls in order to destroy the cameras. Some fly through brick and metal with the sole purpose of fulfilling their ruler’s command: no greater honor than aid her son trapped in the human kingdom.

He often gets in trouble and somehow miraculously vanishes or avoids hazardous situations; this is his first time at Arkham and the authorities will believe tonight’s events are an inside job or simply an elaborate breakout plotted by The Joker’s team.

Ironically enough The King of Gotham is not even crazy: his mind works on a totally different level due to the unearthly heritage. There is no cure for a person that’s not sick, no medicine or therapy allegedly mending something that’s not fractured.

“Why isn’t the generator kicking in?” Reeves stares at the ceiling and the nurse carefully listens, pointing out a disturbing detail:

“Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” the doctor crinkles his nose. “It’s silent.”

“Exactly,” she mutters. “Why is it so quiet?”

“I have no idea,” he prepares to poke The Joker’s arm when the halogen bulbs instantly go out. “Ana, can you…” the psychiatrist mumbles as the lights turn back on. “Finally!” he turns towards the woman and gasps at the frightening apparition standing next to him. Your sword whooshes in the stillness and the corpse falls to the ground, abruptly followed by the caregiver’s: both didn’t have the opportunity to process what they saw by pure coincidence. It was gone in a second along with their existence.

The Queen towers over the medical ward, slowly taking off her helmet; her hair intensely burns, eternally fueled by the fires of The Underworld.

“You came!” The Joker face brightens up with pure happiness noticing the creatures’ claws release him from his constraints: they grumble, coo and chirp seeing The Prince is safe and sound; he pets a few kneeling at his feet while rushing in your arms. “Mother!” J sniffles and you hold him tight until his body relaxes a little bit.

“Are you hurt?” you whisper and your son pouts, burying his cheeks in the cold silver of your plated armor.

“No,” the muffled word prompts a kiss on his forehead; The Joker lets go, unwilling to watch his mother depart: he’s aware she can’t linger for too long, yet the desire to stay close to her never fades. “When are you going to take me with you?” the piercing blue eyes inherited from his father glare into yours.

“Soon,” the elusive reply makes him frown.

“You promised and I’m always left behind!”

How can you explain why he’s still here?... J wouldn’t comprehend what coming with you to The Realm Below means: he would have to get rid of his mortal shell and you just don’t have the strength to witness him die.

Despite the horrifying moniker, The Queen of The Damned is neither good nor evil; her actions are invariably guided by circumstances.

She takes care of lost, damaged spirits and although powerful and feared, Y/N is also the recipient of her legions’ constant devotion, for no other Monarch of The Underworld ever enjoyed being cherished by its subject as much as you are.

The abomination born from her love with a human didn’t diminish the horde’s allegiance: it actually made them adore The Queen more because affection is desperately craved in The Realm Below and they can’t wait to have a Prince willing to share his Mother’s duties!

But The Joker’s arrival keeps on getting postponed…

“You know what I’ll do?” J mischievously snickers. “I’m gonna call my crew and tell them to pick me up. The mystery of how I’m able to walk out of this place without their intervention will drive them nuts! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!” his sinister chuckle resonates in the room; he feels such gratification thinking about it one could presume he’s in a cheerful disposition. “Did you clear the path for me?” The Prince inquires and the entities snarl, excited he’s paying attention to their mighty deeds. “Perfect!” your son praises. “I’ll signal when to open the gates, ok?”

They growl at his approval and you have to interrupt the joyful mood:

“I have to go…”

“Is dad waiting for you?” J asks, already guessing the answer.

“Yes,” you nod and reassure: “Don’t worry, I’ll return when you need me!”

Before the sentence ends The Queen disappears, abandoning her descendant inside the Arkham Asylum. The Joker sulks, upset he can’t follow you and gets distracted by the commotion created on the other side of Block H: apparently some guards weren’t annihilated as expected.

“You said you cleared the path!” he scolds and picks up the phone, dialing Frost’s number. “No matter, I’ll get reinforcements and we’ll make this a party on our own, hm?” the silver grin widens at the concept of fighting his way out himself.

In the meantime, J’s mother materializes by the Endless Wall that separates The Realm Below from The Realm Above: its transparent, glass like composition is meant to keep you apart from the man you love. Why?

The response is easy: The King reigning over The Realm Above always craved your fondness and felt betrayed when you gave your attention to a mere human; deciding to give Kai a child was the epitome of mockery for the jealous emperor. He never accepted your choices had nothing to do with him. Thus he took the matters in his own hands and ensured Kai’s demise, making certain you won’t be able to save him: the mortal you loved was killed in a car crash and went to The Realm Above, which was the plan all along. Since The Joker’s father was at peace when he passed and not a lost, broken soul, he didn’t wind up in your kingdom; The Emperor sealed the borders as soon as Kai appeared on his domain, making sure you won’t touch or hear each other again.

You tried to break the spell without success: only the one that casted such magic could reverse it and The King has no intention to do so. He likes torturing The Queen of The Damned and her beloved, that’s why he lingers in the shadows to glutton at their agony every time they meet.

Today is no exception and it sure brings The Emperor great comfort to view the aftermath of his revolting actions: it probably hurts because you’re unable to do more than gaze at the man you love. Such a fit punishment for a stuck-up Queen rejecting his proposal. You sure got what you deserved! All the powers you possess are useless against his impenetrable curse unleashed out of pure resentment.

Hmm… what’s going on?... You suddenly seem flustered and The King is trying to estimate on the motive; Kai keeps on calling your name, yet you can’t discern the sounds anyway. You swiftly fade in a hurry, neglecting to wave goodbye for a valid pretext: the sharp ache in your chest alerted that something awful happened to your son.

**************

The Joker is lying on the floor, almost unconscious from the blood loss. The red stain under him is growing bigger and bigger, reaching the collapsed security officers that stood between J and his freedom. He was overly hyped and decided to create mayhem: being reckless provoked the dark side of his personality and he didn’t wait for his gang nor allowed the wraiths to intervene.

The Clown Prince of Crime definitely counts on his Mother’s aid, therefore he doesn’t have to worry about consequences to his endeavors. He trusts you won’t fail to show up and get him out of messy situations like this one.

“M-mother…”, The Joker wheezes as you hover over him. “Mother… h-help me…”, he begs and your hesitation puzzles your heir; his father distracted you and in exchange J got severely injured.

“… …. …. I won’t… I can’t have your father, but I’ll take you…” The Queen confesses, adamant to overcome her delay in fulfilling his wish for years. Maybe she won’t be determined like she is now if another chance will arise in the future.

“Really?...” the hope in his tone makes you sadder. “Mother…” he winces in pain, trying to touch you. “Please h-help me…It…it hurts…”

You grab his fingers and squeeze them in yours, pecking his tattooed knuckles.

“I know…I’m sorry…”

“W-why won’t you…” and he pauses, taking a last labored breath, “…help m-me?!...”

His eyelids are closing, the individual labeled as one of the worse criminals lastly fleeing the prison of his mortal half. The Joker is dead and The Prince of The Realm Below emerges from his remains, stunned to wake up next to you.

“Mother?...” he blinks and you cup his face, relieved you had the courage to do what you deferred in the past.

“It’s ok,” you smile. “You’ll get used to the sensation, give it a few moments,” you pass your hand to his burning hair, amazed at the terrifying beauty he was blessed with thanks to his ancestry.

“Boss!!!”

“Mister Joker!!”

“Mister J, where are you?” the questions echo in the deserted Block H: his henchmen finally infiltrated the area, spooked at the unnerving feeling that something is shady. When they arrived, the Asylum’s gates were open; nobody around on the street, no guards, no medical personnel, nobody they could spot anywhere on their way to pick up The Joker as instructed.

“Over here!” Frost shouts and rushes to The Joker’s corpse, swiftly taking his pulse. “Shit!” he mumbles when he detects no heartbeat.

“What the fuck?!” Panda is the second to stumble on the scene, baffled to notice his employer covered in blood wearing just a pair of sweatpants.

“We need to get out this instant!” Frost commands as the others join the small group. “Help me carry him!”

“J?..” a woman’s voice emerges. “J?” the visibly pregnant Ava runs on the empty corridor. “Oh my God!” she panics when she sees them trying to lift him up. “J?” she gently caresses his face, panicked when there’s no movement. “Is he dead?” she presses on his wounds and starts crying since the guys are quiet. “Aren’t you going to do anything??!!” she screams, desperate to acknowledge not too much can be done.

“… Mother…” The Prince articulates and you already predict his request: “… Can I stay?”

Who else understands him better to begin with? He loves the mortal and you can relate to his anguish. Of course he wants to go with you also, yet there are things that are holding him back in the human world.

“I suppose I’m condemned to ages of loneliness…” you utter and give him a violent nudge before you change your mind.

The Prince falls back into his body; The Joker gasping for air makes Frost and Panda almost drop him on the marble floor.

“J!” Ava exclaims in disbelief. “Baby??!!” she brings her ear to his lips because he’s saying something.

“Mother… Mother…” J faintly repeats and the woman misinterprets. “Yes, I’m going to be a mom and you’re going to be a dad. You already know this, hm?” she caresses his face. “Be careful!” Ava reprimands as they wrap Richard’s jacket around The Joker and Panda drags a stretcher next to them.

“Jesus boss, we thought we lost you!” Jonny adds and barely deciphers his reply:

“You’re not that lucky…”

The Joker keeps staring at The Queen and the army hidden to the rest of them: she’s leaving and although weakened, he wants to apologize for generating more sorrow when she doesn’t deserve it.

“Forgive me…” J whispers and your last words only he can discern give him unexpected bliss:

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

**************

You come near the transparent wall, seeking to find consolation even if it’s impossible: Kay is on the other side, the palm of his right hand against the invisible barrier. You cover it with yours, wishing you could tell him so much but what’s the point?... He can’t hear you.

“I couldn’t bring him with me,” The Queen whispers nevertheless. “He wanted to stay… and I couldn’t force him…”

Something is trickling down your face and you touch it, confused.

What is this?! Tears don’t exist in The Underworld; a few drip on the barrier and it starts sizzling to your legion’s dismay. They sniff the bubbly fumes, curiously scratching at the expanding chain reaction: the wall is melting.

You and Kay watch the gap becoming larger and larger until there’s enough space to fit. Is this real or an illusion?!

I guess you’ll have to find out so you take a few shaky steps towards him, not being able to suppress your astonishment when he yanks you in his arms.

The Emperor is lurking in the shadows, furious his unbreakable magic is dissipating with each passing moment. Your warriors are granted free passage again and they spill inside The Kingdom Above, howling while awaiting orders.

As she hugs the man she loves, The Mother of lost spirits sneers through her clenched teeth:

“Attack!”

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker x reader #the joker fanfiction #the joker imagine #the joker jared leto #the joker #the joker suicide squad #joker #joker fanfiction #joker jared leto #joker suicide squad #mister j #Mistah J #dc #dcu #joker imagine

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rickyriddle · 7 years ago

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Anime/Manga psychopaths

Hi there! So, for this post, I’ll present you 10 anime/manga characters who are showing psychopathic traits. Maybe some of them weren’t intended by the authors to be a psychopath, but they still possessed lots of psychopathic traits. Before you begin your reading, there is something I need to clarify first. I had seen many lists made by other people about psychopath characters, but I had noticed that most of them didn’t seem to know what exactly psychopathy is. They seemed to think that a murderous and crazy character, as well as sadistic, was necessarily a psychopath. It’s false. Even if psychopathy is a mental disorder, psychopaths aren’t crazy. They understand what they are doing and doesn’t care if it’s wrong. They aren’t always killers either. Crazy characters who are killing for insane reasons are most likely psychotic, which isn’t the same thing.

I’ll give you a quick definition of a typical psychopath: Charismatic, manipulative, can easily gain people trust, can easily fake normal emotion and looks normal, seem like a nice and friendly person, lack of empathy, remorse and fear, unable to forme real bond with others, dubious morality, narcissistic, selfish, liar, like to have control over others, view others as object, easily bored so they always search for excitement, feal pleasure over others’ pain, often really smart.

Do not mix them with sociopaths. Both psychopathy and sociopathy are part of the same disorder, which is anti-social personality disorder. Even if there are similarities between those two, they are also different. Both lack empathy and remorse and are often charismatic and selfish, as well as liars. But when it comes to murder, a psychopath is able to plan it meticulously, while sociopaths often kill by impulsion. Their motives are also different. Psychopaths kill usually for pleasure, while sociopaths it’s usually by anger or revenge. Psychopaths enjoy causing harm, while sociopaths simply are indifferent to others pain. Psychopaths can more easily control their emotions then sociopaths.

Without further ado, here’s my list of 10 psychopathic characters from anime/manga I had seen (warning: spoilers):

Hisoka (Hunter x Hunter)

The murderous clown of HxH. He’s charming in a way (pretty sure Biscuit would agree), but also really eccentric. Hisoka’s main interest (or even only interest) his to fight powerful people (nen users) and kill them. He even gets sexual pleasure by doing so. He killed a lot of people in the series, and never show any kind of remorse or empathy towards others. He’s only sparing those he knows would become strong later, so he’s not really sparing them, more saving them for later, with the intend of eventually killing them. Gon is one of those he is waiting to kill, despite his young age, showing that he’s patient and able to control is murderous pulsions. He’s also able to look sympathetic, just as he did in Greed Island.

Takechi Otoya (Akuma no Riddle, shojo-ai)

One of the psychopaths on this list that I don’t think it was intentional from the author. For this one, I think the author simply based her on real serial killers, and most of them are psychopaths, and some sociopaths or psychotics. That’s probably why Otoya has traits from those three disorders, such as careless when she kills (sociopath) and insane behaviour when she’s about to kill (psychotic). But overall, she fits the psychopath type: she charismatic, charming, she’s able to charm and trick her prey in a really manipulative way and pretends to be a friendly person. She’s also a serial killer who had killed 29 people (women) for sexual pleasure and show no remorse or empathy for her victims. Her motivation is only for her own pleasure and doesn’t seem to have any hatred towards her victim. If you're interested, I made a more complex analysis about her, you can click here.

Yagami Raito (Death Note)

Or Yagami Light if you prefer. This one his a good example of a psychopath who is hungry for power, since he also has a God complex. Raito is a model student, really intelligent, and able to look nice and reliable to others. while in reality, he has no real attachment to those people, views them as disposable, almost as if they were tools for him. He has no problem killing innocents or even allies to get what he wants. He’s manipulative and charismatic, and even if he claims to want to make the world a better place, his true goal is to become the new God of the world, because he thinks only him could have this position, which is kind of narcissistic. He seems to feel pleasure when he’s able to trick people and kill them and has no real bond with anyone, not even his family or his girlfriend.

Towa Monaca (Danganronpa)

Ah, the mini-Junko, also known among the fans as Satan. Even if I doubt the author really intend to make her a psychopath, she does fit pretty much all the criteria. She seems to be an innocent little girl, she’s charismatic and can easily gain her “friends” trust, but in reality, she’s manipulating them, she doesn’t care about them and is absolutely not sad when some “died”. She’s a genius who enjoy others’ misery and pain, and has no remorse for those she hurt, she doesn’t seem to have any empathy. She toying with others and use their weaknesses to make them do what she wants and have no regret for the pain she causes them. All she wants is to create more chaos and is ready to sacrifice a lot of life for that (including kids). And her behaviour is not because of Junko, even before meeting Junko, Monaca tried to make her friends commit suicide just for fun. Monaca’s psychopathic nature is probably because of her childhood, since she was abandoned by her mother and abused in her father’s family. Psychopathy can be a mix of genetic and environment, which could be the case with her.

Oh Sangwoo (Killing Stalking, yaoi)

Okay, he’s not from a manga, but from a manhwa, but close enough (those are even called Korean manga these days so...). Sangwoo looks really friendly and charming to others, he’s charismatic, smart, popular and can easily gain others trust. But in reality, he’s a serial killer, he’s sadistic, manipulative, and can plan his murder. He likes to have control over others and show no remorse for his crimes. He toys with his victims and is able to manipulate almost everyone, including the police. He also has a bad childhood, with an abusive father, and a strange obsession towards his mother. According to some studies, an unhealthy relationship with the mother can be what triggered psychopathy in those who have this gene.

Baek Yeonhwa (White Angel Have no Wings, yuri)

Another manhwa, but this time a girl. She’s a good example of a non-murderous psychopath. But it’s not because she isn’t killing that she’s less psychopathic than the others. She most likely isn’t interested in killing because of the risks and because she has other ways to satisfy her sadistic desires. Yeonhwa is acting as a frail and sickly girl, using her albinism, but in reality, other than the fact she has a bad sight and is weak under the sun, she’s far from being frail and is, in fact, a strong fighter. She’s playing the innocent a nice girl with others, a model student, and even stands against bullies to befriend the main character. But in reality, despite her charming look, she’s manipulative and cruel, she’s treating others as her toys and enjoy mistreating them, hurting them, bullying them and even sexually assaulting them. Even her sister admitted that she enjoys others’ pain. Her sister is one of her “toys” and Yeonhwa showed no regret for what she did to her, even when her sister ran away from home. Even when other people show worries towards her victims (without knowing Yeonhwa is responsible for that), she has no remorse and even uses them to torment her victims even more.

Makishima Shogo (Psycho-Pass)

What to be expected from a series where the name is literally a pun with the word psychopath? In the Psycho-Pass universe, they are people known as criminally asymptomatic, people that can commit crimes without being spotted by Sybil (who is able to spot criminals or potential criminals). Those people are most likely psychopaths. Shogo is a good example. He’s a charming man who can easily gain people’s trust to do his bidding and highly manipulative. He treats others almost as toys for his own amusement, and toss them away when they are not useful to him. He has no hesitation to kill and no remorse, he even enjoys it. His pastime is to make others kill, and toying with the police. He was ready to cause the death of a lot of people simply to change the country to his own taste, which is chaos and violence.

Orihara Izaya (Durarara)

Yeah, that guy. I heard that in the novels there is more depth for that characters, but I’m basing my analysis on how he his in the anime only. And in the anime, he fits the psychopath type. He’s a rather charismatic man who can easily gain others trust, but he’s usually manipulating them for his own enjoyment. He claims to love humans (even if he’s technically one, it’s almost like he doesn’t view himself as one), what he likes about them is their unpredictiveness. He likes to put them into chaotic situations just to see them struggle and observe them. He never seems to feel regret for his actions and can hardly bond with others. He’s messing and toying with others for his own pleasure and even tried to make someone commit suicide.

Kamishiro Rize (Tokyo Ghoul)

A beautiful and charming woman who easily charm men in order to trick them an eventually eat them, taking her time to play with them and even torturing them. Lovely. She has no regards for human lives (and it’s not only because she’s a ghoul, many ghouls do have respect for human lives). She remorsefully manipulates men by playing the nice girl, just to sadistically eat them and enjoying the pain she inflicts them. I must admit that I didn’t read all Tokyo Ghoul:re, so maybe there are some elements I’m missing.

Sebastian Michaelis (Kuroshitsuji)

Okay, let me beings by saying this: no, I don’t think Sebastian is a psychopath. Then why is he on that list? Well, I know his behaviour is because he’s a demon, but still, most of his actions and personality fit the psychopath type, and he does have psychopathic traits. He’s charismatic and charming and can easily make others trust and even like him. But in reality, he is a sadistic being who doesn't care about others, he only cares about himself. The only reason he takes care of Ciel is because he wants to eat his soul, otherwise he doesn’t care about Ciel, he enjoys to see him struggling and even tried to eat him when he thought Ciel had given up on his revenge. Sebastian is enjoying killing and clearly have no empathy towards others. So he may not be clinically a psychopath since he doesn’t have a human brain, but he sure does act like a psychopath.

So those were 10 potential psychopaths. As you can see, they aren’t all the same, even if they share similar traits (lack of empathy and remorse, charisma, sadistic). They all have a desire for dominance over others, and some use murder to achieve it, other by positions of power, and some by control over others. If there are other characters you think are psychopaths, or if you think that those I view as psychopath aren’t, don’t hesitate to comment this post or send me a message and I’ll analyze your opinions to see if I may be wrong about some of them. If you liked it, I may make another post about psychopath characters with your suggestions, or about other mental disorder (such as autism/asperger syndrome). Thanks for your reading!

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dangerousimagines · 7 years ago

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Before the Fall - Part 10

Summary: Before he was known as the Joker, he was Jack. Just a normal man, who fell in love with his bosses daughter. After being caught, he’s thrown onto the path of madness and has no choice but to become the clown prince of crime.

A/N: Holy shit guys. It’s been so such a long time since I’ve updated this fic that I actually had a lot of issues writing it. I’m not sure how much longer this fic is going to be but I’m still conflicted with how I want it to end ;-; Crazy stuff.

Pairing: Joker x Reader, (Past) Normal!Joker x Reader

“Not anymore…”

You couldn’t stop staring at him, everything about him was different. From his unnaturally green hair to the pale whiteness of his skin. You didn’t understand, he couldn’t be alive, you watched him fall to his death. This couldn’t be real.

The two of you stared at each other in silence for some time before you noticed him frown. “What’s wrong, doll face? You don’t seem happy to see me,” he stated, a laugh accompanying his words. His lips then curved up into a grin, exposing the silver adorning his teeth.

“W-What happened to you…” was all you could manage to ask him.

“You were there,” he smirked, his voice becoming low as he leaned in closer to you. “That night…when you father attempted to kill me. Although he did ‘succeed’, I was reborn.”

His eyes stared dangerously into your own, forcing you to try and understand the words he was saying. But the madness in his voice was all you could focus on. You wondered if there was anything left of the man you once loved. You cautiously rose your hand towards his face, but you didn’t get far as he snatched your hand by the wrist. You watched as his eyes moved from you to focus on something behind you.

“Do it.”

It was hours later when you finally woke up, your head was aching and your vision was still blurry as you tried to figure out your surroundings. Slowly, you pulled off silky sheets that covered you and rose from the bed. You were strangely relieved to see that you were still wearing the same clothes as before. You brought your hands up to your face, carefully rubbing your eyes as the pain in your neck slowly starting making itself known. He’d drugged you, that much was clear. Drugged you and taken you here, wherever here was.

Moving from the bed, you chose to go right for the door. As you reached for the handle, you were shocked to see the door opening from the other side. You quickly backed away, something in you stirred at the possibility of it being Jack, whether it was excitement or fear, you didn’t know. You let out a shaky breath as the door was opened fully and the man stepped through the door way.

“Frost…”

“You’re awake,” he muttered. “I brought you a change of clothes, I figured you’d want to change out of that dress.”

He held out a bag towards you and you eagerly took it, nodding a thanks. He turned around for a moment, his hand still on the door handle as he looked back to you over his shoulder. “I’ll be outside the door, let me know when your done changing.”

You waited for the door close before you changed out of the uncomfortable dress you’d been in for god knows how long. You wasted no time in changing into the clothes he’d brought you, a sweater and jeans. Simple and comfortable, all you really cared about at that moment. You left your dress on the bed and took a few uneasy steps towards the door. “I-I’m done,” you called out.

He didn’t reply, instead he just opened the door as he had done before. Once the door was open, he stepped out of the way and motioned for you to leave the room. You looked at the hallway before looking at him. He noticed your hesitation and quickly figured out what it was stemming from. “He’s not here,” he assured you.

“He’s not?” You confirmed, unable to shake the feeling of disappointment from the back of your mind. When Frost shook his head, you finally gathered the courage to remove yourself from the room. He led you down the hallway, neither of you spoke a single word as you passed doorway after doorway. You couldn’t help but wonder how big this place actually was. After what felt like a long journey, he finally brought you into a sitting room with tasteful decorations. It was nothing like the room you’d woken up in, the walls were a soft modern grey color, matching the other finishings around the room. A fireplace was situated along the center of the wall and already lit. Something about it reminded you of the house you used to live in with your father.

“Sit down,” Frost muttered, pointing to one of the leather sofas.

You sat down without protest, leaning back into the leather material as you watched Frost sit down across from you. “What exactly is he intending to do with me?” You suddenly wondered from him. Your arms folded over your stomach as you stared at him, your face remaining calm.

“You are to remain here, until I am told otherwise,” he informed you.

“Here?” You confirmed, “like as in…this room?”

He looked past you, pointing to a set of doors behind you. “There is a full bedroom and bathroom here as well. You’ll be comfortable.”

“I’m not going to kept in a cell?” You challenged him, your eyebrow raising as you spoke.”No lock and key?”

“If you’d prefer a cell, I could always put you in one,” he joked.

“No I think I’ll stay here. I’ll let you know if I change my mind though.” You couldn’t help but smile, however it didn’t last long. Leaning back into the sofa, you allowed your eyes to move back to the man who sat opposite of you. “What happened?”

“At the party?” He guessed.

You shook your head, “No, before that. How is…how is Jack alive? What happened to him…”

Frost let out a sigh as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he tried to figure out what he was going to say. “Honestly, (Y/n). I don’t even know myself. I arrived at Ace Chemicals too late, everyone was gone…except him. I was expecting to find a body but…I found him laughing like a mad man, standing in one of the vats of acid…”

Your eyes widened as you nodded for him to keep going.

“I took him back to one of your fathers old abandoned warehouses. I didn’t know how bad he was until I had him calmed down, he had seriously lost his mind. He wanted me to help him destroy Gotham, I’m glad that I managed to talk him out of it. He’s different now compared to how he was that night, now he’s more…grounded I guess.”

“It was you guys…you’re the ones who have taking out the crime bosses around Gotham, aren’t you?” You asked.

He nodded slowly, knowing that you’d eventually figure it out.

“But why?”

“He doesn’t want any competition, he wants to rule Gotham. Your father has been really making it difficult for us though,” he admitted to you.

“So that’s why I’m here?” You wondered from him. “He’s going to use me as leverage against my father?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

“Don’t lie to me!” You spat at him, moving to stand. “I’ve been lied to my whole, everyone has treated me like I’ve been some kind of idiot and I’m sick of it!” You paced the room, feeling as if you needed to destroy everything in it.

Frost didn’t move, he remained passive as you yelled at him. “(Y/n)…if I knew anything else, I would tell you but…he really hasn’t told me anything. Even with the party, we were told that the plan was to rob the party goers, I didn’t even know you were there.”

“Is that the truth?” You stopped in front of the fireplace. Your eyes focused on the chaotic way the flames moved along the burning wood.

“Jack…he’s not the same person he once was. He’s so unpredictable now, I can never assume to know what his plan is anymore.”

“So what am I suppose to do…” you finally said after moments of silence.

“Just wait, be patient. I’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt you,” he promised.

“Why would you put yourself in danger to protect me? Why am I so special?”

“My daughter…” he began, his voice losing its usual calm tone. “I had a daughter, she would of been around your age if I’d protected her better.”

“Frost, I’m sorry…” you stepped towards him, reaching to put your hand on his shoulder but he suddenly stood up.

“You don’t have to apologize, it was a long time ago,” he assured before he walked towards the door. “It’ll be locked, with a guard stationed at the door at all times. So please, don’t give him a reason to get angry, don’t try and escape.”

You nodded in agreement, watching as he left. The room was quiet enough that you could hear the door being locked from the other side. You let out a shaky breath as you moved to sit in front of the fireplace. Everything you’d learned today and confirmed what you’d already known, Jack was gone.

He was really gone and replaced with this dangerous mad man.

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#joker fic #joker x reader #the joker #suicide squad imagine #joker suicide squad #joker #before the fall #fanfiction #fanfic #jared joker #jared leto #jared leto joker #reader #reader insert #reader fanfiction

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bwicblog · 8 years ago

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Fawnprince-05/17/2017

The city of Himmel was alive as always, people moving about streets and such like a well maintained circulatory system. A few stragglers here or there taking short cuts through an alley way or two but for the most part trolls were highly aware of what they were about or where to go. The city was a few hours treck inland of Provenence and meant more so for trains or cargo of any other sort.

A large lake parked off to one side bringing in decent temperatures so citizens didn't have to be baked alive on concrete streets all the time. Beyond that the buildings were tall and majority of shops seems either staples or odd attempts at being hip and ontop of newer trends.

Contemporary.

Speaking of which a particular indigo stood with his own little acoustic guitar behind one of the shops, a ritzy coffee shop that offered you whatever your little heart could desire! Although an alley way behind it isn't exactly as....glamorous as the interior of the shop but oh well he'd already set up the time and date for his own little private meeting and sent these co-ords to his favourite maroon.

Leaving Ashley to carefully leave his jacket folded off to the side, sleeves rolled up, hair perfectly coiffed as usual, and waiting patiently while playing on his phone. Pestering Hadean occasionally as well for 'being late' when it was actually still not quite the meeting time anyway. He was just THAT particular.

rebatrolls-05/17/2017

Traveling to a fight was quickly becoming the worst part of fighting, in Hadean's eyes. Why couldn't everyone just live in the same damn area for easier punching convenience? Between waiting for Sipara and Laledy to get sprung from jail (He was still a little salty, but the amount of time they'd been stuck there had dulled it quite a bit,) figuring out where the fuck everyone was going and how they were getting there... It was a mess. But hey, they all got there in mostly one piece. Maybe a little windblown, but what could one expect when they rode on a damn bike? At least didn't get stopped by any legislacerators, Hadean considered that a sign. Clearly fate itself wanted this fight to happen! And Hadean wasn't about to question a little bit of luck when it was finally working out to his advantage for once. The coordinates and photo Ashley had provided seemed to match up with the location Hadean found himself at, he noted with a little bit of relief. He hoped he didn't look too eager for any waiting purple eyes as he hopped off Prisma's bike, trying to work out the kinks from sitting on it for so long. It was time to get pumped! After all, this was a damn redemption fight. He had something to prove to the world here. Once he was sure his legs weren't about to fall off he decided to take point, heading in to the alleyway while leaving his friends to do... Whatever they had to do with motorcycles. "Be right back, won't start the fight without anyone~!" Finding Ashley wasn't too hard at least, Hadean was sure he could spot that damn hairdo from a mile away. But why did he look like he got lost on his way to a guitar jam session instead of waiting on a fight? "Is that a fucking guitar? I came for a fight, not to join hands and sing kumbaya." He was a little put out by how much effort he had put in- he had painted up his mug for this? Well, he guess a fight was a fight. "We're gonna have an audience. So that, like. No one culls anyone. Okay? Good."(edited)

Vii-05/17/2017

"I don't believe that--" He barely managed to get it in before Hadean's sharply dressed self (Prisma had to admit, he was still patting himself on the back for the decision to send him off to the tailor, even if he did get him chewed out for drinking) disappeared around the corner. There's a heavy, deflating sigh that leaves him, shaking his head in a what can you do sort of way while kicking the stand up and arranging it appropriately within sight of the alley. His gloved hands linger on it far longer than they should, eyes staring blankly into space. This was actually happening. Hadean, in all his overly rambunctious ways, was dragging himself into yet another unnecessary fight. Yes, he had an explaination... but that neither justified or made sense of it. It was a bandaid on a festering wound of mentality, and it takes so, so much effort to follow the red blood. There's a twinge of irritation, too, with the crackdowns and the arrest of Sipara and Laledy and everything else. It was foolish, the entire thing was foolish. He didn't understand the sense -- or lack thereof -- of the entire thing. And, furthermore, there's a blood-simmering spite that wells up from his stomach when his eyes fall on Ashley finally. But it was Hadean's fight, and the last thing he wanted was to intervene in a way that made him feel weak or childish or anything else. Instead, Prisma folds his arms, leaning against the alleywall and keeping a venemous gaze on the indigo. There aren't even words to offer up to Hadean's opponent -- the only things he has to say are bitter and acidic. "Make sure you trash him, though, Hadean," The cheer in his voice at addressing his favorite was... unsettling against the contrast of his expression and attention to Ashley.(edited)

mar-05/17/2017

Honestly, by the time Boopis was done schmoozing the policeradicators, Sipara had sort of expected Prisma to have put a stop to the fight. But no: a few hours later, she's snickering as Laledy staggers off of the bike, and everyone's standing in the shady-ass alley of some bougie coffee shop. As far as things go, it wasn't the worst place to fight! It's secluded enough to keep people out, quiet enough not to draw eye, and big enough to fit everyone in. Mostly big enough. That guitar was taking up enough room for a whole 'nother person. Whatever. At least Hadean looked nice. And the purple was gangly enough that.. she was pretty sure he could take him, if he didn't break out the voodoos. It was a glib thought: of course he was going to have 'em, he was a fucking indigo, and this was a fucking wretched. Why didn't Prisma just cuff him to the damn bed? Sure, Hadean would've howled about it. But if he wanted to fight highbloods so much, he ought to at least be making money. There's no reason to sulk, though, not when the fight was right there. And if he dropped vooodoos.. well, at least Lal wouldn't be bothered. "Yeah, no culling, that's not fucking sportin'. Hey, Hads, don't forget to go for the horns~," she called, sliding in next to Prisma, and tugging Laledy along. (Tugging was a strong word for it, when she was practically glued to his arm. He couldn't see. She had to be helpful.)

Fawnprince-05/17/2017

Ashley wasn't exactly please by any means at the commentary. Where was his jovial cheering on the sidelines? This wasn't exactly fair in any sense of the word....Really all Halvea told him was to not die since she couldn't be assed to get a new secretary right now and that he had a lot of work to catch up on when he got back considering the timing. Blah blah, he let's out a sigh. He'll just have to be his OWN hype then! He puts on the cheesiest smile he can, beaming and whips his guitar around to his front. " Course babe, we can't have a good jam sesh without an audience! There's more than I was promise but that's fine sweetheart. " Ashley's eyes dart up and down a bit, taking in Hadean's attire and appearence before leaning to the side a bit to check out his little crew. Sneering for a moment at the discombobulation of everyones outfits. Really they at least could've all dressed somewhat similiarly. oh well. He's just pleased Hadean isn't in say....sweatpants. God he'd just LEAVE if that was the case. " Glad you clean up real nice though Hadsy, really does a boys pusher some good." A hand is placed on his heart for some dramaticism then put back on the strings calmly strumming out a few little chords as he double checked it was all nice and tuned. But truly he was wanting get a gauge on reactions for just a sample of his powers. Not good to go in blindly of course with all your eggs in one basket. He sang out each note a bit for each strum, double checking and harmonizing each properly.

rebatrolls-05/17/2017

Hadean knows his friends aren't exactly happy about his chosen fight. But in his eyes they were just being wrigglers! Sure, he was a purpleblood. But it wasn't like he wasn't aware of the dangers! Hadean knew how much muscle a highblood could pack, even one that looked like a beanpole. He was prepared, his psi was fully charged, and he was ready to rumble. He kept his scowl up at sweetheart, chin raising at that stupid smarmy smile. Maybe he could knock some teeth out. Give him a fat lip to remember him by even, that sounded fun. The sneer that lit Ashley's face was just another nail in his coffin in Hadean's eyes. Of course he was going to curl his lip, but Hadean knew they were all awesome. "Fucking precious diamond in the rough right here, just needed some polishing." He kept his voice dry, focusing momentarily on solidifying energy under his clothing as armor. It was a trick he had used before with Emerel, but he knew Ashley would need more if he went swinging fists. Hadean was just hoping a paper-pushing purple wasn't as skilled a fighter as his last opponent. He's confused why the fuck he has a guitar, and why he's playing it. Did he miss something? His thinkpan skips a few beats though, with each strum. What was that? Were those voodoos? Hadean wasn't used to this feeling, more familiar with the bog-standard clown. But if he was feeling voodoos, he figured that meant the game was on. And against highblood endurance, he wasn't looking to draw this out. He moved forward, focusing his psi to his hand in a familiar weapon- a staff probably wouldn't cull. If he wanted to keep his hands busy with the guitar, Hadean was more than happy to go swinging for his knees.

Fawnprince-05/17/2017

Oops he either got tired of Ashley killing time, or he struck a chord. ( OHHOOHOHO) But regardless he wasn't stupid enough to stay still, he'd tightened his strap enough before hand to make moving a tad easier. It does cause a momentary cease in strumming but you can't stop his mouth. Can't even stop his mouth in regular situations why would he stop it when it mattered? He lets out a little chuckle, hurriedly stepping back, but not catching the swing quite fast enough to dodge effectivley. Whatever little hop he'd tried was just barely enough to make sure his knee caps weren't harmed but did get a fair amount of hopping out of him as ankle got caught. A hiss leaving his mouth. Chuckling again he strikes back up another hum, strumming a few chords again but louder and more rhythymacly. Starting up his own little diddy. " Ohhhh~ Dear little Hadsy~ That'll sure be the night when you actually land a swing! That'll be the night oh yes! When you actually land a hit it may even be next sweep we just don't know but it'll be quite the night honey!" He even decided to throw in some little dance-like movements in, distancing himself from Hadean without making a run for it.

rebatrolls-05/17/2017

Hadean is a little satisfied when he gets his chuckle to turn in to a hiss. An ankle hit wasn't what he was going for, but maybe it would slow Ashley down. Hadean didn't know what he was doing with the guitar- why wasn't he fighting? He didn't get it and it made him wary. Was this just a game to him!? "How about you stop fucking singing and fight!?" That comes off a bit more snarly than Hadean meant for it to be, but he was getting angry. He came here to beat a troll up and feel like he regained some dignity after his last fight. He didn't come to be toyed with! The dancing does not help either, and he isn't going to tolerate the space. In his mind, if Ashley wanted to be an annoying little pipsqueak, he'd hit him until he changed his tune. (Heh.) He goes for another swing, but a motion that he's done countless times before suddenly feels off. He doesn't understand why he's swinging inches away from where he had targeted, why his aim was so batty. Was he in his thinkpan? How? ...Was it the music? He didn't know if that was a thing. He pulled back a distance just to watch him, weighing his options and trying to see Ashley's next move.(edited)

Fawnprince-05/17/2017

If he could, he would start laughing outloud non-stop. Really! Look at this, that miss, that request? Even that smidgen of confusion he's got going this is everything Ashley was hoping to get out of this. Hadean needed to learn a little respect for this 'paper pusher'. He was moving UP in the business world, but not even that! He wanted to show Hadean what he actually had a passion for. A little rock n roll~ Apparently he hadn't dropped enough hints back when they were planning this whole tiff out. Unfortunate! Ashley wanted to actually give him a little fair warning but by looks of it....well... " Hadssyyy HADSY Of course I'm fighting~! Hadean babe, everyone fights some how..Inside...outside~! Themselves--" Ashley really didn't like the distance between them anymore, seeing as Hadean had backed off too. He made sure to start moving closer, almost tempted to get so close as to try dancing with Hadean even. Would that be too cheeky...who knows! Whatever he's going to try leaning back and continuing to serenade the maroon. " Don't you like this little song I wrote for you oh Hadean~?"May 18, 2017

rebatrolls-05/18/2017

Hadean decides it has to be the music. He's too smug about his little jeers, they mean something. Like the worst subliminal thinkpanwashing in advertisements ever. His blood is boiling at that look on Ashley's face, how proud of himself he seems to be. But if it's music, just blocking it out should work ust fine. Summoning up his psi was harder than it should be, it felt like his thinkpan was moving through sludge. But if Hadean was anything, it was stubborn. It took him longer than he would have liked to form two maroon shells around his ears, psi solidified to block those vemon-laced sound waves. Thank god for the amount of maroon he was already wearing, he didn't have to worry about Ashley crying that he clashed. Being blocked off from sound wasn't exactly something Hadean did often, but he was willing to do what it took to win. And if his next swing with his staff was a little more vicious than the first few, well. Ashley deserved it for being smarmy.

Fawnprince-05/18/2017

" OHH~ GAH!?" Before he could break into further singing the colliding staff stop him. Breaking the voodoos flow and forcing him to stumble off to the side. Ashley takes those few precious moments of balance regaining to be confused. He didn't TELL Hadean to hit him. Why would anyone allow themself to get hit in a fight?? He's not THAT desperate yet. God that'll leave at least some bruising what the fuck dude. Once rebalanced he spins on his heel a bit to glower at the psiionics user. Earmuffs? Really?? Rude! Rude as ever. Knowing it was useless anyway Ashley still decided to yell out his frustrations. " I go to the trouble of serenading you with a song babe and this is what I get?! Winter wear?!" Well. Whatever. Maybe he's just not loud enough. Ashley had doubts about hadeans psi as he did most lower hues. He'd never tested that theory until now really but ehhhhh it's fine. Right? With increased gusto and mezzo forte he picks right back up on singing. Hands playing rapidly, not ready to give up.

" Dear Hadsy~ won't you take those off and play nicely~? "(edited)

rebatrolls-05/18/2017

Hadean got way too much satisfaction at that nice solid contact. He almost wishes he could hear the moment his singing turned in to pain, but the sight of him fumbling would have to do. He grins back at that glower, letting his enjoyment at hurting him show bright and clear. Hadean didn't mind letting him know he was enjoying his pain! Maybe it'd even unnerve the shouting little prick. Hadean let him go back to singing, deciding to go sly about this. He thought he was too good to fail, Hadean was happy to use it against him. He had no idea what he was singing, but he hoped it was something to get him to stop swinging. He let his staff droop slowly, let himself play possum as he let the staff fade so he could take some slow steps towards Ashley. He let himself wobble a bit, head tilting as he tried to gauge how well Ashley was taking the bait. He just wanted to get close enough to give him one good smack. In the nose, preferably, but... The throat would work to quiet him up, wouldn't it?

Fawnprince-05/18/2017

Watching Hadean closely Ashley kept up his playing. Growing more and more excited as he got pretty into his song. Leaning towards the maroon blood as he bellowed out each lyric. Watching. Waiting. Observing to see if he'd follow proper prompts. Eyes ever so slightly tinting with a ruddy hue when prompt after prompt is unfulfilled. So, whats a troll to do when his audience is ignoring him? The obvious of course, he rears back for a moment and headbutts him with full force. Yeah sure it'd stun Ashley a bit with recoil but hey it wasn't his hands or voice so that's what mattered to him. Him and his poor half baked plan of action. " Listen up Hadean! I'm not at the climax yet it's rude to skip out like that sweet heart ! Playing me for a fiddle. Real mean honey" he didn't sing out that portion. Wasn't even sure if Hadean could hear it but ahhhh his ego.

rebatrolls-05/18/2017

Hadean wasn't prepared for a headbutt. Who went ramming their skull in to people? He was busy watching his limbs and considering maybe Ashley using his horns, not... That. It sure as fuck hurts! But at least he doesn't get him in the face, Hadean wouldn't have appreciated being the one with the broken nose. He snarled out a curse though, taking a few steps back just to try and get some distance. Try and assess the damage and be thankful he had a nice solid skull on him. But he sure was getting sick of Ashley treating this like some sort of damn game. His next snarl has a lot more edge to it, lips curling back to show off his teeth. Hadean had been trying to play nice, but that was over. He was going to make Ashley take this seriously. He flexed his fingers as he drew up his psi, staff reforming before it expanded in to a razor-edged battleaxe. It was about as close to a default slashing weapon as he got, and he hoped as he swung it that Ashley would wise up and stop his damn singing.

Fawnprince-05/18/2017

Oop. Ah well guess he still can't hear, unfortunate Ashley was hoping this could've been resolved without gashes that threatened his wardrobe. He weighs his options here on what to do. Goal number one would be to get him able to hear again, and goal two is to keep his own wardrobe safe. The sweater was real cashmere he can't ruin it! Taking a deep breath Ashley rests his arms on his guitar and looks around the alley way for a moment before quickly kicking over a trash can and getting it rolling towards Hadean. Honestly not the most graceful or whatever thing to do in this situation but. Well. Hadean didn't need to know he didn't exactly HAVE a strife to summon up. It's not every night someone is actually able to cover their ears effectively on the spot. Also just to mock Hadean he stops singing but whistles a bit instead.

rebatrolls-05/18/2017

Hadean wasn't pleased when Ashley decides to kick a trashcan at him- was he still trying to play!? Hadeanw as getting himself awfully riled up on the idea of not being taken seriously, he was damn sick and tired of it. And sick and tired of that guitar too. He has to dodge the trashcan, frowning at the distraction and trying to redy himself for a follow-up attack from the yuppie purpleblood as a plan formed. If he wasn't going to put the damn guitar down, he'd ruin it. With that idea in his head, the next swing of his axe was aimed solely at that stringed instrument of douchbaginess.

Fawnprince-05/18/2017

Despite every part of his mind saying move FASTER, he just doesn't. He moves as fast as he physically can but it's just not enough. Swiveling would've been faster to move his percious instrument out of the line of fire but why would anyone willingly turn their back to an axe? He really does enjoy having an intact spine, it's pretty great! The sound that errupts from the splintering instrument is top tier, stock sound. Twanging of strings and smashing of wood. It's not a cheap guitar, no but really even ironwood would struggle to take a direct axe hit surely. The momentary silence from Ashley that follows is pretty horrowing however as well. " Ah.....AH....." He stutters to find words, looking at the masacared, what he considers, CHILD OF HIS. Then comes the horrible scream as he pulls his strap up and off his head to let the wood fall down with a few clangs and clunks.(edited)

Vii-05/18/2017

This entire "fight" was a farce, and it's enough Prisma has to refrain from dragging his hands down his face in embarrassment. Even with the attempted psionics - voodoos, for indigos? - it was... humiliating. And blood boiling, once it began escalating. Certainly he didn't want Hadean in any sort of fight, but to be in a fight where the other wasn't even willing or able to use a weapon? There's a low hiss that escapes between his teeth, prompting him to take a step away from Sipara and Laledy. Hadean was turning this into a real show, and he didn't want to be there to pull him off this Indigo pissbaby when they finally cracked over their guitar-- It's just before the scream that he whirls on heel, striding back to the entrance of the alley. At first. For air, but there was something... there. With the crack downs, it was probably police but --? Why would they be surveying Himmel? it seemed quiet enough. He should go back to the fight but Sipara could surely handle... Hadean would be fine as long as he could -- and there it was again. A hot flash down his spine, Something was watching them, and he abandons the alley entirely to find it. Surely the police didn't come back for Sipara and Laledy? Or did their hounds detect Hadean?

Fawnprince-05/18/2017

Ashley looks back up at Hadean, essentially tunnel visioned at this point. There's no strife to summon, and he can't use his voice. But if Hadean wanted to REALLY fight, like REALLY REALLY fine then. He'd play along. He'd more than play along even, he'd win. So he does what any sensible troll would do when faced with a troll with powerful psiionics and there's no weapon in your own hands. Tackle them!!!

rebatrolls-05/18/2017

Hadean can't hear that scream, but he knows that look plenty. He finally hit a nerve. The guitar was gone and Ashley had discarded the corpse, finally focusing on him with a look other than amusement or disdain. That was what he was here for! Anger! Passion! The lust to shed some fucking blood. He didn't even notice Prisma's disappearance, not when he had a whole bunch of scrawny purpleblood tackling him. He goes down but it's fine, that's what his armor is for. He just had to hope it actually held up under purple strength. Instead of focusing on keeping his ass safe like a normal damn troll, he decided to abandon the axe for a pair of psi brass knuckles to swing at that stupid face that was suddenly too close, holy shit.

Fawnprince-05/18/2017

He was quick to dig his well manicured nails into Hadeans shoulders. Hissing and barring teeth before taking a hit to the cheek. Hands refusing to Let go of the new death grip he had on Hadean but the force was plenty enough to break his glare. If he was a more fanged troll there'd be severe issues with biting himself, being unblessed in that department seems to have saved Ashley hide this time. Minus ten for intimidation points though. He couldn't keep his thoughts straight on how to attack next and ended up settling for trying to ram Hadean down against the ground. Mind fogged on how to steady his strength, what amount to use or even what could be considered appropriate for this situation. A part of him didn't care! Why should he! This...LOWER BLOOD destroyed his most prized possession!

rebatrolls-05/18/2017

Damn claws did not feel that great in Hadean's shoulders and neither the strength in those deceptively scrawny hands. Damn purpleblood, he took a hit to the face like a champ and just kept going as angry as ever. But then that was what highblood rage did, wasn't it? He would have gone for another swing, but the feeling of being lifted and slammed back down was one hell of a distraction. The crack of his skull against the ground was a disturbingly familiar one, brought back the ghosts of the beatdown that had driven him in to this fight. Was this going to be a trend for him now? The very thought had him boiling even through the daze of impact. He hissed, reaching up to claw back at Ashley and to try and prevent another slam like that. He hoped he had a bit more experience in grappling as he tried to flip them in to a roll. He wasn't sure how much better an angry purpleblood was under him than over him, but he was willing to take a try.

Fawnprince-05/18/2017

There's a second attempt at smashing his opponent into the concrete but before he can force more contact he had to turn his attention to the suddenly flipping world. He let out more hisses, knuckles threatening to whiten as his grip tightened on the maroon. He didn't know WHAT was keeping him from digging in harder but the resistance he felt only served to fuel his rage. " GOD Hadsy you really need to get rid of all this dead skin. " Ashley taunted, squirming underneath the maroon to try getting his feet underneath. Hadean needed to buy him dinner before this sort of thing would be allowed! Yeesh!

rebatrolls-05/18/2017

Ashley was strong, but thankfully he was light. Hadean grinned when he came out on top, digging his claws in past that sweater in search of skin. Ashley was spluttering but Hadean wasn't letting his earplugs go away- who knew if his words had the same effect as his music? Ashley was squirming but Hadeant hought it was only kind to give him a taste of his own medicine, jerking him up to slam against the ground. Not with as much strength, but he just wanted the satisfaction. "How about you give up before I bloody your fucking face!?" That was probably a bit louder than he meant for it to be, but. Hopefully that just made it intimidating!

Fawnprince-05/18/2017

The knock to the back of the head wasn't lethal but not being prepared for it along with the prodding of fingers into his shoudlers left Ashley momentarily shocked. Acting on reaction more than anything as he swung a punch at Hadean before finally getting his feet under neath the guy to kick him off with force, probably scuffing up that pretty suit but oops! Weirdly enough in the back of Ashley's mind he wishes he'd helped Hadean take the jacket portion off at least and set it aside with his own but that odd piece of thought gets reclouded over immediatley. Remembering his lost loved one laying shattered only a few feet away. " Oh shut UP!" He yells back, again, useless but he's too prideful to not respond.

rebatrolls-05/18/2017

The satisfaction didn't lost too long, unfortunately- but a purpleblood punching a guy in the face could shatter a lot. Just... Hopefully not Hadean's jaw. He was still reeling when the kick sent him soaring, but at least between his suit and his armor the alleyway floor didn't tear up anything important. Just maybe some of his remaining pride. He forced himself to sit up, working his jaw just to make sure everything was still in its place. He thought a molar might be lose, but... That was okay. He'd either heal it or replace it. His mouth was full of the taste of blood again so he spit it to the side, forcing himself back to his feet. The garbage can that had been tossed at him was still nearby, so he decided to give it a kick towards Ashley. Nothing like rotting garbage to get a primma donna back on their feet, after all.

Fawnprince-05/18/2017

With the weight finally off him Ashley took in the damage to his sweater. It wasn't in SHREDS of course but to him even the amount of damage Hadean did was enough for him to peel it off and discard of the damned thing. It was getting too heated for it anyway, he tried to rationalize withhimself. The sound of rolling tin however caught his attention again, looking at the source and hopping up to avoid it. Gross?? Also it was rude to copy. Ashley glared over at Hadean, breaking out into a smirk then laughing a bit at the bloodied mouth he'd ended up giving them. " OH sweetheart oh no~ I'm SOOOO sorry honey. Let me fix it." Ashley taunts again, giggling in between words. He hadn't gotten to do an actual fight in so long it was actually almost fun! Just like normal trolls say it is. Ah conformity~ A few steps were taken towards Hadean, standing back up straight and fists clenched.(edited)

rebatrolls-05/18/2017

It was damn fun to make him scramble away from the trash can, Hadean was grinning at the sight bloody mouth and all. But that's what he got for getting busy with sweater removal! He should have been more like Hadean, he had tested extensively to make sure he wasn't going to overheat in his outfit. Just another sign that for all his strength, Ashley didn't think things though. Not that Hadean could talk too much on that subject... He context of his words is lost on Hadean, but he could recognize giggling when he saw it. Why the fuck was he still giggling? That gangly mess was coming back for more, so Hadean decided to meet him. A little application of his psionics was enough to lengthen his claws in to something longer, six inch razor sharp points that he had no qualms about using, feinting a hit at his face before sweeping low instead, across his stomach. He wanted them both to bleed.

Fawnprince-05/18/2017

The giggling didn't stop, in fact it evolved into full on cackling. Hollow, adrenaline fueled, laughing. Almost melodic in a sense maybe if he had actually intended for it to be but otherwise it was unsettling to say the least if Hadean could actually hear. At least they had a lovely audience to hear it! He took the farce swipe at face value and stepped back in an attempt to avoid it. It wasn't nearly enough to step away from the lower swipe however, feeling the slice of psi claws dig into and cut a gash into his torso. No his organs weren't going to spill out like an old roman honorable death but well, one his shirt was ruined and two, there was indigo blossoming up and dripping out now. Ashley looked down to assess the damage momentarily pausing in his cackling to gasp at the slice. His skin was unmarked besides THIS new set of additions. It only fueled the hate in him further to realize the intense after care he'd have to deal with to keep it from scarring. Off reflex he puts a hand over the cuts. Pointless, it didn't need pressure, and it only made a mess of his hand but it was weirdly a comforting action. LIkely since he didn't have to look at it now. Ashley was quick to hook a foot behind Hadean's ankle and yank as hard as he could. Those claws weren't a joke and he wasn't about to let them get any closer.

rebatrolls-05/18/2017

That bright purple was what Hadean wanted to see! Punching him had been satisfying but there was just something so enjoyable about making a jerk bleed. Of course, he hadn't been only aiming for the graze of claws, but... Hey, this was a no-cull fight. He had to keep his temper in check, he didn't need to cull anyone tied to the legislacerators. Those stupid overpriced shoes sure did do a good job of tripping a guy up. Hadean snarled as he went back down, holding those claws in front of him in case Ashley went pressing the attack. He wanted more damage on the purple bastard! But then, he was sure Ashley was thinking the same about him. He kicked out at an ankle, hoping he might get lucky. It wasn't as bad being on the ground if he wasn't the only one, after all. Maybe a little grappling, a knife to the throat might be enough for him to tap out. Then Hadean could win.

Fawnprince-05/18/2017

Unfortunate for Hadean the Indigo wasn't as predictable as he tended to give off. Or well he could be if he was in a better state of mind vs what's going on right now. Pure blind unbridled rage with terrible cackling as a cherry on top. He's quick to grab the ankle of the foot launched at him. Claws again digging in as he gripped tightly. Mouth filling with words to taunt the non-hearing opponent but exploding as more laughter. Indigo jeans or just him losing it? It was anyone's bet. Another set of claws follow the first set right into hadean's leg. Followed by a swift tug. Ashley wasn't exactly one with enough raw strength to just chuck someone straight up but he had enough strenght to muster up to at least swing Hadean to the side and toss at one of the alley walls. He needed to tire him out. Immediatley. Get those STUPID headphones...earmuffs...WHATEVER off him.(edited)

rebatrolls-05/18/2017

Kicking him wasn't a good idea, Ashley was quicker than Hadean would have given him credit for. And more willing to let go of his new wounds, of course. He tried to yank his leg back but that grip was tight, claws digging deep to splinter through his armor and cleave through flesh. Of course, that wasn't the worst of it, no. Hadean got to have a very short flying lesson. There was no avoiding impact, all he had the thought to do was curl his head and shoulders in so he didn't think his thinkpan splatters all over the bricks. He landed hard, and- ohh boy. He could feel how shattered the armor was on his back, how much of the impact still went through. A quick wiggle of fingers and toes was promising for spinal cord damage at least, but he knew he'd be one hell of an aching mess as the bruising came. Right now it was dull, thinkpan pumping chemicals to keep him able to fight. Getting up was one hell of a struggle, but Hadean wasn't letting himself stay down.

Fawnprince-05/18/2017

There was a momentary set of claps from Ashley as he watched Hadean rise again. " Nice sweetheart! I'm so proud of you honey!" But, he wasn't ready to be the one to call timeout. He was huffing and puffing a little from the effort of that throw. Grossly enough the strain of what muscles needed to do such action caused more bleeding out of his wounds. Staining into his pants. When the adrenaline of this all runs out he'll need to nurse all that, launder immediatley, and be sure to maybe look into sewing it up...Dermal or deeper was going to be an issue a band-aid couldn't simply repair. Again he wasn't done though! Ashley charged at the maroon, feinting a punch before setting a hand against the wall. Other fist actually making contact, he'd read something or whatever about some sort of solar plexus. Okay he didn't read he skimmed, and no he didn't know where it was but??? Eh details, details. " Wish you could hear me Hadsy, honey haha~"

rebatrolls-05/18/2017

What a fucking dick. He was clapping after sending Hadean in to a wall! The rage helped against the pain a little bit, enough for him to muster a glare. At least the sight of all that indigo was nice. Shame he hadn't gotten a little deeper, it would take him too long to start getting weak from blood loss this way. And ohh fuck, he was charging. Hadean pressed back against the wall, but he didn't flinch at the feint- the hit to the stomach still landed though, and though his armor was still mostly solid there it still hurt, helped choke the breath out of him. This was too familiar- getting pinned in and whaled on. Hadean probably should have learned from the first time, but his blood was up. There was blood in his mouth, cool indigo on him, and- fuck it. He snarled as he reached for that damnably maroon tie, using it to haul him in as he lunged forward. Maybe if he had remembered the audience he wouldn't have gone for biting Ashley's mouth, but. That was for Future Hadean to deal with.

Fawnprince-05/18/2017

Wh- Ashley's brain scrambled to process what the actual fuck Hadean was doing, wading itself through the rage addled mind to try garnering a hold on real thought finally. Processing power going into trying to figure out why his mouth stung. HIS MOUTH and why was Hadean so close to his face? That sobered him up pretty fast actually, gut reaction telling him to bite back or at least attempt to and to press forward. Pulling back would lose him a lip more than likely. Hand that was formerly aiming for the maybe solar plexus fisting into Hadean's outfit in case he tried to make a break for it. Hand against the wall migrated to one of Hadean's earmufflers, clawing at it now that he was close enough to finally do so. He'd be damned if Hadean remained deaf for the entirety of their first interaction. That aside.... Whatever this was turning into Ashley was a part of it now so there was that he guessed. There was a lot of charged and mixed feelings over this.

rebatrolls-05/18/2017

Hadean wasn't nice about sinking his teeth in- most trolls didn't like the idea of getting a chunk of lip taken out, he had Ashley about as close to pinned as he was gonna get in this situation. And hey, he wasn't hitting him. That was the problem with letting trolls close to soft fleshy bits. He did notice he had both hands busy, but that worked just fine with Hadean. He let go of his tie, smoothing his hand up. It took a little more effort than it usually would to form a knife, but he didn't hesitate about pressing it against Ashley's neck as one muffler finally gave up the ghost, crumbling under Ashley's insistence. He let go of his lip to give him a wide indigo-stained grin, ignoring that cool blood slipping down his chin. "Give in, or I'll give you a niice cut. Won't be so pretty then." It was a fucking dirty trick. But Hadean was alright with that.

Fawnprince-05/18/2017

Ashley kept clawing until he felt his nails hit against flesh and hair, taking in a fistful even when he was being threatened. Jaw a little slack , partlydue from not exactly enjoying the taste of bloodin his mouth his own or otherwise. He weighed his options here. Trust that Hadean is calling a bluff and will keep this no-culling? Or get sliced and ...yeah get sliced and that's that...OR...... Thirdly. The hand fisted in Hadean's clothes, sturdy and well made he mentally adds, lets go delicatley touching at his own neck and searching to put it over hadean's. Locking eyes with the warmer troll. Gripping a bit, hinting for the knife to be lowered. " And lose a new toy? Hadsy, honey you think so lowly of me to think I'm dispensible...." There was a temptation to give a sing songy lilt to his own words but....he resisted and spoke like a normal troll. No funny business. " Just when this was getting interesting babe." mistakenly Ashley' bit at his lower lip trying to be all ~sensual~ or some bullshit but yep he is. Definitley cut up there, and hisses from the accident.

rebatrolls-05/18/2017

Hadean digs the knife in a bit when he feels that cold hand on his flesh, even against the squeeze that followed it until there was a glint of indigo. Stop no-cull rule. Things were easier when he could just drain a troll dry. Ashley had so much life in him too... He'd make a damn good meal. "I don't have to open you up all the way, Ashy. You're purple, if I was careful it'd be easy enough to just carve you a little. Of course, if you keep it up, I could always get a little excited and slip..." Calling his bluff only worked when Hadean had something to lose from it. And he wanted to win, damnit. "It can still be interesting. All you have to do is admit that I could have slit you open and had myself the grossest fucking indigo shower there ever was. Say I win. And maybe I'll give you some more of my time in a way that's not trying to gouge your neck open, hm?"May 19, 2017

Fawnprince-05/19/2017

There's a soft gasp from Ashley at the stinging feeling of flesh being cut into. Using any usual jive or excitement in his voice would likely cause it to get worse so he ended up speaking lower, mumbling almost. Voice a lower rumble than usual so only Hadean would be able to hear. Hand ever so carefully trying to pull the knife away. " You're excited by me, honey? That's so sweet.... I'll gladly spend the rest of the night with you babe~" Carefully. Ever so carefully he lilted the last few words. Carefully humming a few bars of what could be a song after. Anything to get that knife away. ANYTHING.

rebatrolls-05/19/2017

There was only so much he could resist against a highblood trying to move his hand back from his vulnerable neck- but what Hadean could do was just keep making his knife longer, keeping that point close to his skin no matter what. He was prepared for the singing, had tried to steel himself against the effect, that haziness. He just fed in to his pain and anger to try and overrule it, lips peeling back as he gave his angriest roar. It wasn't anything like the notes of a highblood rage, but there was still plenty of anger in it. He was tired with the messing around, sick of Ashley treating this like some big fucking game. "Say you surrender right now, or I'm slicing you open. If you sing, I'll make sure you can never make another fucking sound again."

Fawnprince-05/19/2017

There was a little whisper of ' Losing doesn't taste good does it?' as Ashley took in a small inhale, being sure to not guillotine himself. Sorry Hadean he just couldn't be gutted today. Hand gripping tighter on Hadean's with as much force as he could muster while pulling it away. Not a side motion but more towards Hadean himself and away from Ashley's own neck. No he wouldn't dare slice off Hadean's head but the more real he could make a threat himself the better. As a little coup de grace he decided to sing a little gentle Lullaby to Hadean. Demanding he surrender. Pressing ever so closer to the red hued troll. Forehead against Hadean's. " Sweetheart~ Let's stop this fighting ~ We know it's fruitless....."

rebatrolls-05/19/2017

Damn purpleblooded strength. Try as he might, there wasn't much budging Ashley- the difference in strength was just too much. He was too limited by being unable to cull the bastard, the threat of what would happen if he did loomed too heavy. He was pinned with a knife against his throat, Ashley all up in his space. And then came the damn singing, catching in his ear and sinking claws in to his thinkpan. His arms stopped fighting against Ashley, the knife flickering out of existence as he gave up the energy. Was it fruitless to fight? Was his whole fucking life fruitless? Why the fuck did he keep losing?

Fawnprince-05/19/2017

Ashley gave a last final squeeze dangerously skirting on using too much strength. With his rage calmed the pain of his gash was steadily catching up to him. A stronger, more battle hardened Indigo likely would've been able to keep going no sweat but it was Ashley. Not a true subjug of any variety. A sigh interuppted his song temporarily he tried to continue but hissed again at the feeling of an overly warm body against his icy cold wound not being the most comfortable feeling. He refused to let this all slip from him however, with how Hadean had treated him his ego demanded the last laugh here. The option of ramming his mouth against the others and biting as hard as Hadean had came to mind. So without thinking he did just that. Hand leaving the side of Hadean's head to claw at his suit, it'd be rude to claw at his head of course but Ashley was desperatley beginning to need a distraction from his clawed self.

rebatrolls-05/19/2017

The feeling of surrender faded a bit when Ashley's song stopped, but Hadean didn't go swinging again, just blinking hard against the sudden vertigo. He didn't get too much time to dwell on the thinkpan whiplash though, not when there was coolness against his lips, followed by the hot splash of his blood and pain. And boy was that familiar too, history happily repeating itself. Right down to his damn clothing getting destroyed. He couldn't pull away, but this wasn't like with Emerel- he wasn't helpless, he didn't want to be helpless. So he swung at Ashley's middle with a hiss, hoping he didn't destroy his lip.

Fawnprince-05/19/2017

The sudden strike sends him mentally realing, biting down harder than before, hand gripping harder than before and hand raking at Hadean for some kind of stable ...ANYTHING. Only his mouth lets go eventually letting out an awful groan of pain then huffing as he tried to regain breath. Losing to Hadean was becoming less ego damaging and more of a painful idea based solely off the possibility of not getting to do it again? Was that weird? Ashley hoped it wasn't weird he didn't fight often but it was just thrilling maybe too thrilling. Hm. Regardless, he tried to headbutt again. He was too tall to go for much but the semi-slouch that came from the hit to his weak spot had him aim for HAdean's nose. " Oh fuck o-off hadsy." He sputtered out.(edited)

rebatrolls-05/19/2017

His lip feels like it's on fire when he bites harder- Hadean would be rocking the 'made out with a blender' look again for a while. But then he kept biting first so really, he's asking for it. At least he lets go before he bites it right off, and Hadean gets to enjoy that groan. It's something. It shows he's not just fruitlessly hitting himself against a brick wall, he'd take whatever he could take right now. He wasn't expecting another damn headbutt, and oww. His tried to turn his head in time but failed to do anything but avoid a break. He cursed when it immediately started to fill with blood again though, just adding to the mess of his face as he swung for Ashley's middle again. It worked before, after all. "You first." That came out a bit more slurred and stuffy than he meant for it to, but he got the point across.

Fawnprince-05/19/2017

Another pained groan, more dragged out, more pained. There was going to be serious issues if he kept taking hits there. There was serious issues already but....more concerning issues. His meat did not need to be beat like this. His knees began to buckle at the pain, but he refused to go down alone, literally trying to drag Hadean down with him in any manner he could. A hand letting go of hadean's clothes and going for that hair of his. The other grabbing for a sleeve as he started to deadweight. He was a mess. Grappling like this, semi-bloodied, glasses likely askew at this point, hair maybe having acquired some blood from the headbutt. A disaster. But he didn't want to think of any of that right now. Just a way to get this to be done with.

rebatrolls-05/19/2017

There was very little of Hadean's body that didn't hurt in some capacity now. He felt like someone had taken a meat tenderizer to every part of his back, his face was just a mess and mix of blood... But he wasn't giving in. Even with as little in the tank as he had, he wasn't just laying down and letting Ashley beat on him. Getting dragged to the ground, on the other hand... That was a different story. He wasn't very heavy usually, but Hadean was tired. Laying down might have felt good if he hadn't had to fall to get there. He hisses at Ashley, at the hand in his hair, but it's strained. The adrenaline is fading fast now as he tries to paw at the bloody mess that is Ashley's stomach. "Give up already..." Fuck. Did he have to be nice? "Fucker. Don't hit me again and I'll... Let this be a tie." Another damn tie. But wasn't that better than the risk of losing?

Fawnprince-05/19/2017

Ashley makes sure to keep Hadean close. Huffing and puffing with each touch at his wound. Almost wheezing at times. It took more energy than he would've liked but he glowers at Hadean. " ....let it be a tie? You??....Babe..." He tugs at Hadean's hair harshly. Groaning again at his stomach simply burning. " Just submit honey. You roughed me up good, dollface."

rebatrolls-05/19/2017

The hair yank gets a slight rumble, weakened by how sore he was. But he was trying to be nice and this fucker was throwing it in his face! "I'm not a fucking dollface. Bulgemunch... I caused more bleeding than you did... We keep talking and you'll eventually get weaker and weaker... Just. Accept a tie... Give you a fucking rematch when we're better..." He thought that made sense.

Fawnprince-05/19/2017

" With that new....busted nose you got I think we're even...." Ashley nods tiredly. Fine. A tie. in his mind he feels he still did a better job but whatever. Stupidly enough he moves to bonk his forehead against Hadean's again. Not a head butt but a tap that he just leaves lingering. Augh Hadean looked disgusting. Their blood just did not mix into a nice color. No ones did really but Ashley made sure to note that this was a bad look. " Tie, Babe." Again, gross but Ashley gives a pity prize of a nip and a peck to Hadean.

rebatrolls-05/19/2017

Hadean grumbles at the bonk, but allows it. It's the least he could do after all, since he finally got the asshole to bend a little. Maybe the next fight would end with him actually using his damn name instead of nicknames, but... Wriggler steps he supposes. This was just the step of letting him know that even a Maroonblood could wreck his shit. The nip and peck get him a dirty look, and he's quick to scoop up some of his blood in his hand before he reached over to pat Ashley's cheek. "Next time I'll be ready for you to be a cheating little fuck."

Fawnprince-05/19/2017

There's a weak laugh from Ashley. in response. It's interuppted obviously by another groan of pain but once that's over he does enjoy the look he got from Hadean. Point one for him~ " You're the cheater asshole..." A grimace at the bloody pat then he shifts slightly. More blood dribbling from his wound. Hands slowly letting go of Hadean as he pushes himself up to sit on his knees. " Let me clean up your messed up face honey. My place is nearby."

rebatrolls-05/19/2017

"Fuck off, I didn't try fucking thinkpan jacking you. Slimey fucker." Hadean watches him move with a frown, more than happy to keep his carcass parked for a few moments longer. The pain was definitely starting to sing now as he finally sat up, spitting more blood to the side as he mulled over the offer. He knew he must look like a fucking mess. It was probably dangerous for him to be seen walking around like this on his own... Legislacerators were still out in force after all. And.... Crap. He didn't want to get his friends in trouble. Speaking of friends... He glanced over to them, giving Sipara and Laledy a wave. Where was Prisma? Did he get too upset by the fight and leave? "How close is close. Y'got medical shit?" At least walking down the street with a purpleblood would probably ward off most legislacerators. He hoped.

mar-05/19/2017

At some point, she left off on the commentary. But the fight calmed almost as soon as it flared, and Sipara let out the breath she was holding when Hadean waved at her. He looked like a mess, sure, but he was fine enough. A little blood never hurt anyone! And they were talking, from the looks of it, which meant it wasn't not something she'd have to jump in on. Good. If she was going to play four squares with Hadean, then it wasn't going to be as third wheel to a blueblood. Eugh. "You two done shacking up in an alley?" she calls out, patient. "'cause, Hads, if you're not gonna cull 'em, I gotta step.Pri ran off to puke in a dumpster, and I kind of want to, like, make sure he didn't fall in."

rebatrolls-05/19/2017

"Done for now, thanks Sips~" He thought it was maybe a little cheeky to blow a kiss to her, but he was in a mood. And a little buoyed by the tie, he'd be honest! It felt good to give as good as he got, even if it hadn't ended in a complete victory. Better than absolute ailure. "Tell Pris I'm sorry I scared him off, would you?" He thought that was a fair enough apology, even if he had the feeling Prisma would be feeling a little put off by him for a bit. He'd win him back over. He hauled himself to his aching feet, pausing before he offered a hand to Ashley. "C'mon, up." Man, he hoped his cool new outfit was fixable...

Fawnprince-05/19/2017

Ashley looked around at the mess made while Hadean spoke to his in Ashley's opinion ,cronies , frowning at his smashed guitar. It was unrepairable in this state and he wasn't keen on bringing the corpse back home with him. Nice. Fuck Hadean. That sweater might be salvageable though. And his blazer avoided it all still nicely folded and tucked away where he left it. He looked at the hand offered him, it was in poor taste but he waved it off. Letting out a terrible his as he pushed himself onto his feet. " Close as in a few blocks away, babe. I paid good money for it, nice view. Large. Don't worry about anything I got it. " Sobriety was damning as he realized he probably looked way worse than planned. Stepping around a bit to grab his sweater and blazer , tempted to put both on to help cover up his stomach wound. But blood was harder to get out than he would've liked. Even worse he could FEEL it congealing on his skin. UHG. Holding his things in his arms, glasses put back right and hair.....well he had attempted to make it look playfully tusseled instead of ruined, Ashley shoots Hadean a cheesy, bloodied smile. " coffee's at my place too. You made this more violent than I'd planned honey. "

rebatrolls-05/19/2017

He tried to be nice and got rebuffed, how rude. He found it a little bit hard to be angry about it though- lifting Ashley would have hurt. "Gee whiz, aren't you mister important highlood with a big fancy apartment. Catch me if I start swooning at the fucking opulance." Well, maybe he'd have some food. Hadean was hungry after the ride over and the fight. He rolled his eyes as Ashley started fussing over himself, like it was possible to make it look like they were doing anything but fighting. Hadean knew he was a fucking trainwreck, but that was what a shower was for. Might make Prisma feel better to see him not covered in gore anyways. He shoots Ashley back his own bloody grin, straightening up even if it makes his aching back protest. "Sorry I didn't just let you make me dance around and hit myself, fuckwad. Told you you shouldn't underestimate me. Now lead the way." He'd have to steal that damn tie sometime at the apartment...

#prose #c:ashley #c:laledy #c:sipara #c:prisma #c:hadean

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