(no subject)
Title: Public Presentation
Author: tsukiraven
Universe: Nonlanverse, post-TDK.
Disclaimer: The Joker and Batsy/Bruce Wayne are the products of better minds than mine.
Rating: PG
Warnings: None. Work-safe.
Word Count: 623
Summary: Inflictions. He speaks louder and slower on the weightier words, the ones his companion should really notice.
A/N: Inspired! Just a dribble to tide myself over until the next prompt- not for the contest. I'm also trying to get a feel for them so again, sorry if it's a wee bit convoluted. Hope you enjoy!
On a rooftop. Any skyscraper. Their scene is the night.
“It’s nights like these-“ he pauses, and sweeps his arms wide. Grandeur. “…” Another pause. Licks his lips- tongue flicking out to moisten the scars at the edges. Begins again. “Nights like these where you just feel so…so inspired.” Inflictions. He speaks louder and slower on the weightier words, the ones his companion should really notice. “Don’cha just feel…inspired, Batsy?”
“Enough games.”
He giggles; high pitched, wheezy. Maybe a little wet in the lungs. “Games? Hee, hee hee! Oh, Batman, you-"
“Why did you bring me here?” He growls. The green haired man across from him is still giggling, it wears his patience very thin, very quickly. Soon the thin line holding him to his last rule might snap, that twine of meat and morals. That might be what the other man’s counting on.
But it just as easily might not be.
“You brought yourself, Bats,” In the break between sentences he licks his lips again. It’s more frustrating than anything. “Always bringing yourself to me…You come whenever I call, everytime…”
Short. That tendon of temporary peace is ever fraying. “That’s because you threaten people, you hide bombs in buildings, you-"
“You always come-"
“-guns, knives, machetes-"
“-you know, I-"
“-I won’t let you endanger innocent people-"
“-really, re-he-ally, think-"
“-while I’m around-"
“-we’re destined to do this forever-"
Neither one is listening to the other, at least, not for anything more than words. Nothing behind the face value of the simple, interrupted sentences that are flying like arrows from a madman’s mouth to a vigilante’s ears.
He growls, low and rough in his throat. His day’s been rough. They’ve mistaken him for a murderer again.
Low whistle. “Isn’t it be-yuu-ti-full?” A click of his tongue. “So beautiful…when you’re looking down on it.” Turns and smiles- unnatural, even with good intentions. His lips are stretched and mangled. He probably smiles too often for it to be anything more than a cheap gesture, anyway. “How does it feel? For them to be looking down on you, for once? Isn’t this much…better?”
He’s gotten his companion’s attention: there’s actual listening going on now. Trying to dig into the meaning behind the words.
Grin.
Hook.
There’s a hook in the Bat’s frowning mouth. The Joker will pull it. Reel him in.
“Do you…” Licks his lips, the smacking sound less irritating, more natural. Background music. “Don't you mind it? Why do you let them just…look down on you?” Waves his hand towards the city. Eye contact, eye contact, still, it’s maintained. “They’re only beautiful, only worth looking at from wa-a-ay up here…I can’t imagine what it’s like to be down there, in the thick of it, day…after day.” Dead. Serious. Sympathetic, too. “And I really pity,” sly “anybody who can. Anybody who…can’t have a taste of this.” Voice goes low. Not begging to be hit, but similar. “But they don’t pity us, oh no. We pity them. In a sense, doesn’t that make me...merciful?” Head thrown back, there’s a smile on his face. A laugh in his throat. "The pity thing, I mean. I'd still kill them all"
The laugh, the last line, they may have marred his point but the hook is there. Tug tug- line.
“You’re not merciful.” Halting growls, this time. He speaks in halting growls, lower than before. “You’re a murderer. And I’m not going to stop until I bring you down.”
He shrieks with laughter, joyous, bouncing: if grown men did indeed do such things.
“You were listening,” he croons, licks his lips again. It’s more arousing by this point than anything else.
Motionless, he’s waiting. The madman elaborates:
“We’re destined to do this forever.”
Sinker.
The Batman smiles.
All this time they’ve been coming closer…and before the scene ends, they kiss.
The curtain drops.
They kiss again.
Author: tsukiraven
Universe: Nonlanverse, post-TDK.
Disclaimer: The Joker and Batsy/Bruce Wayne are the products of better minds than mine.
Rating: PG
Warnings: None. Work-safe.
Word Count: 623
Summary: Inflictions. He speaks louder and slower on the weightier words, the ones his companion should really notice.
A/N: Inspired! Just a dribble to tide myself over until the next prompt- not for the contest. I'm also trying to get a feel for them so again, sorry if it's a wee bit convoluted. Hope you enjoy!
On a rooftop. Any skyscraper. Their scene is the night.
“It’s nights like these-“ he pauses, and sweeps his arms wide. Grandeur. “…” Another pause. Licks his lips- tongue flicking out to moisten the scars at the edges. Begins again. “Nights like these where you just feel so…so inspired.” Inflictions. He speaks louder and slower on the weightier words, the ones his companion should really notice. “Don’cha just feel…inspired, Batsy?”
“Enough games.”
He giggles; high pitched, wheezy. Maybe a little wet in the lungs. “Games? Hee, hee hee! Oh, Batman, you-"
“Why did you bring me here?” He growls. The green haired man across from him is still giggling, it wears his patience very thin, very quickly. Soon the thin line holding him to his last rule might snap, that twine of meat and morals. That might be what the other man’s counting on.
But it just as easily might not be.
“You brought yourself, Bats,” In the break between sentences he licks his lips again. It’s more frustrating than anything. “Always bringing yourself to me…You come whenever I call, everytime…”
Short. That tendon of temporary peace is ever fraying. “That’s because you threaten people, you hide bombs in buildings, you-"
“You always come-"
“-guns, knives, machetes-"
“-you know, I-"
“-I won’t let you endanger innocent people-"
“-really, re-he-ally, think-"
“-while I’m around-"
“-we’re destined to do this forever-"
Neither one is listening to the other, at least, not for anything more than words. Nothing behind the face value of the simple, interrupted sentences that are flying like arrows from a madman’s mouth to a vigilante’s ears.
He growls, low and rough in his throat. His day’s been rough. They’ve mistaken him for a murderer again.
Low whistle. “Isn’t it be-yuu-ti-full?” A click of his tongue. “So beautiful…when you’re looking down on it.” Turns and smiles- unnatural, even with good intentions. His lips are stretched and mangled. He probably smiles too often for it to be anything more than a cheap gesture, anyway. “How does it feel? For them to be looking down on you, for once? Isn’t this much…better?”
He’s gotten his companion’s attention: there’s actual listening going on now. Trying to dig into the meaning behind the words.
Grin.
Hook.
There’s a hook in the Bat’s frowning mouth. The Joker will pull it. Reel him in.
“Do you…” Licks his lips, the smacking sound less irritating, more natural. Background music. “Don't you mind it? Why do you let them just…look down on you?” Waves his hand towards the city. Eye contact, eye contact, still, it’s maintained. “They’re only beautiful, only worth looking at from wa-a-ay up here…I can’t imagine what it’s like to be down there, in the thick of it, day…after day.” Dead. Serious. Sympathetic, too. “And I really pity,” sly “anybody who can. Anybody who…can’t have a taste of this.” Voice goes low. Not begging to be hit, but similar. “But they don’t pity us, oh no. We pity them. In a sense, doesn’t that make me...merciful?” Head thrown back, there’s a smile on his face. A laugh in his throat. "The pity thing, I mean. I'd still kill them all"
The laugh, the last line, they may have marred his point but the hook is there. Tug tug- line.
“You’re not merciful.” Halting growls, this time. He speaks in halting growls, lower than before. “You’re a murderer. And I’m not going to stop until I bring you down.”
He shrieks with laughter, joyous, bouncing: if grown men did indeed do such things.
“You were listening,” he croons, licks his lips again. It’s more arousing by this point than anything else.
Motionless, he’s waiting. The madman elaborates:
“We’re destined to do this forever.”
Sinker.
The Batman smiles.
All this time they’ve been coming closer…and before the scene ends, they kiss.
The curtain drops.
They kiss again.