The Dark Knight: First Fandom Attempt
Title: Gotham's Last breath
Character[s]: Batman, Joker
Pairing: Batman/Joker
Summary: When you have nothing left, what more is there to do?
Disclaimer: I do not own anything Batman.
And he falls, stumbles over himself actually. His wild, dark green eyes boil, but his smile never quakes. He reaches out his long, skinny hand and wraps it around the iron plank a few feet away from him, dragging his bleeding body forward and up. This small amount of leverage helps him stand, though he wavers, he stands himself up tall and smiles even harder, panting for air from where he stands.
I watch him from my spot, bleeding and wounded, in pain against a crumbling wall as he struggles to walk. It’s like a drunken man dancing, as he trips, as he falls and pulls himself back up with nothing but sheer will power and insanity driving him on, and he stumbles over his lanky little feet, because he always was a clumsy man. But even so his smile never falters, never fades as he stalks closer, eyes wild, hair unkempt - an animal untamed. And he always looks right through my soul.
“What . . .?” he asks, in a tone that suggests he is breathless, but a hoarse laugh escapes his lips after, “What do you have left? What keeps you going even when I've stripped everything away from you Bats? Everything you love is gone . . . . Rachel, Gordon, Harvey . . . Even that old man of yours. I crushed it all into dust. What do you have left?”
I hate him. I hate him because he’s right. He’s so fucking right it hurts. It hurts to face him, to look him in the eyes, because he’s right. It’s my entire fault that this city has crumbled. That everyone I love was taken away from me. And what do I have left?
“And still,” he licks his disgusting, scarred red lips, “After all this, you just can’t break that one rule can you? You’re that stubborn, that arrogant . . . That you'd let everyone die to save your own selfish pride?”
And I don’t say a word, because I can’t. I can’t fight him anymore. I can’t fight him when he’s right. His smile is mocking me and everything that I stand for. What was I even trying to prove in the first place by dressing up like a bat wearing tights? Trying to protect this city, when I only failed it miserably? What was I trying to prove to myself?
“This is why you and I get along so well.”
He falls to his knees in front of me, and I let him wrap his bloody, dirty little hands around my neck, and I let him bring his face real close, close enough to smell his rancid and rotting breath and feel it against my skin. He smiles in my face, laughs a bit under his breath, and nuzzles his nose against the burrow of my neck. He looks at me now, deep into my eyes, smiling all the same.
“You know what you have to do,” he breathes, whispers this little lullaby to me while he flutters his lashes and stares down at me with a listless stare. His hair falls in greasy blonde rivulets down the sides of his face, and I watch his teeth as his ruby red lips move with what he says.
“Just take off that mask of yours, and I’ll take off mine. I mean, unless you want to find a new city to continue our little game in. I'm game for anything at this point. But the real question is, are you?”
I growl now, because I’m full of rage. And I can’t stand myself for my pride, my selfish, horrible pride that won’t allow defeat. But what do I have left? I’ve already let everyone else die.
I lower my head, can feel him smile, and his hands snake up to my mask. They shudder from anticipation, shaky and blood stained hands that find each side of my face and gently rub what's exposed of my cheeks, savoring the time, body an endless tremor that quivers with excitement. This is what he lives for I realize. This is what makes him who he is. Or maybe he really is just obsessed with me? Is it insanity that makes him keep this game up, or has it become a drug that he can't live without? Am I really that intriguing to him?
He continues his work, and slowly snakes it inch by inch up my face, peeling it off of my sweat caked skin that makes it harder to get off, and I feel naked as he does. I’m becoming vulnerable, becoming prone to all his sniggers and snide little remarks he sneers under his breath. I can feel his body shaking against me, and my own body is shivering with him, our bodies both reeling with different feelings and I think I can hear his heart beating in harmony with my own. I can feel the cool air brushing against each inch of freed skin, as it slowly comes off. Breathing seems like it should be easier, but it's not. And the long wait ends as the mask comes off, and I can feel his eyes widen considerably in his head, diseased smile spreading over the sides of his face until the scars seem to rip at the seems. And it falls to the ground beside us, just like the thread of safety that was the only thing left. He has won.
His laughter starts off small, chuckles to giggles, to maniac like howling! It’s mocking me, yet I let him run his hands into my brunette hair. I let him pull me close, and push his face into the strands of my sticky string head, taking in every inch of me. I feel myself breaking, because it’s all too much. His hands are like curious children, running down from my face to my neck, to my chest, and up again. They rub my ear lobes then come together to my lips where they gently trace every crease and chapped surface of them, and up to my eyelids, running over them, smoothing them out; they seem to know no boundaries.
His own rugged lips push against mine, to explore me with his long snake like tongue, forcing itself into the burrow of my mouth to nest there, wiggling around to get comfy, in and out to find more room, and then leaving to find more prey. He kisses everything, each lid of my eye, the tip of my nose, the corners of my lips right over my jaw and to my ear where his gross yellow teeth nibble on my ear. I don't protest at all, too absorbed into myself to care, and at the same time his attention always gets the best of me. It's what dragged me into this in the first place. It's what destroyed me and everyone and everything else that I loved. And even though I hate him so fucking much it is this simple little fact that keeps me from murdering him, and oh have I thought of doing so. It is that I love him.
And just like that, all my pride falls forgotten too, and I am Bruce Wayne again. And as Bruce Wayne I have no shame. I cram the hidden batarang right into his gut, and I can hear his breath catch in his throat for a moment.
His laughter falls into a baritone of steady breaths, and I can finally look up into his face. He smiles at me, almost peacefully, as he falls into my chest, and I gather him up because he’s the only thing I have left now. The only thing I know.
“Wow . . .” he breathes, and he sighs and snuggles into me more. “Just . . . wow . . .”
And suddenly he moves, very quickly in his current predicament, and just like that a very sharp pain fills my abdomen. I gasp, as it all comes too fast for me. When I look down I find the shard of glass embedded in between my armor plates, and I cringe and roll my head back against the wall behind us as it becomes too much of a hassel to hold up any longer.
I can feel his smile on the skin of my neck, as he pulls himself up using my body as support, and his breath is warm and kind of inviting. He coughs loudly, letting out a raspy and desperate laugh. I can feel my own heart beat slowing down a bit, my own breathing coming out in very ragged pants, and my half-lidded eyes strain to look down at the mop of blonde-green hair tangled within my hand, because I’m holding him close now, since he is mine and only mine.
“Did you think . . .” he says, between breaths, “I’d just let you take me?”
I smile, chuckle a little under my breath because it is the end, and why not die at least smiling? I push my head into his air, breath him in as he did with me, and shudder a little when the smell of apples and gunpowder tickle the inside of my nose. Not what I expect, but it's the sweetest smell I've ever smelt.
"No. . ." I manage to mutter back.
He laughs at this and shakes his head. "No, no, no. Batsy, I told you before . . . you complete me."
He truly is a man of his word.
Character[s]: Batman, Joker
Pairing: Batman/Joker
Summary: When you have nothing left, what more is there to do?
Disclaimer: I do not own anything Batman.
And he falls, stumbles over himself actually. His wild, dark green eyes boil, but his smile never quakes. He reaches out his long, skinny hand and wraps it around the iron plank a few feet away from him, dragging his bleeding body forward and up. This small amount of leverage helps him stand, though he wavers, he stands himself up tall and smiles even harder, panting for air from where he stands.
I watch him from my spot, bleeding and wounded, in pain against a crumbling wall as he struggles to walk. It’s like a drunken man dancing, as he trips, as he falls and pulls himself back up with nothing but sheer will power and insanity driving him on, and he stumbles over his lanky little feet, because he always was a clumsy man. But even so his smile never falters, never fades as he stalks closer, eyes wild, hair unkempt - an animal untamed. And he always looks right through my soul.
“What . . .?” he asks, in a tone that suggests he is breathless, but a hoarse laugh escapes his lips after, “What do you have left? What keeps you going even when I've stripped everything away from you Bats? Everything you love is gone . . . . Rachel, Gordon, Harvey . . . Even that old man of yours. I crushed it all into dust. What do you have left?”
I hate him. I hate him because he’s right. He’s so fucking right it hurts. It hurts to face him, to look him in the eyes, because he’s right. It’s my entire fault that this city has crumbled. That everyone I love was taken away from me. And what do I have left?
“And still,” he licks his disgusting, scarred red lips, “After all this, you just can’t break that one rule can you? You’re that stubborn, that arrogant . . . That you'd let everyone die to save your own selfish pride?”
And I don’t say a word, because I can’t. I can’t fight him anymore. I can’t fight him when he’s right. His smile is mocking me and everything that I stand for. What was I even trying to prove in the first place by dressing up like a bat wearing tights? Trying to protect this city, when I only failed it miserably? What was I trying to prove to myself?
“This is why you and I get along so well.”
He falls to his knees in front of me, and I let him wrap his bloody, dirty little hands around my neck, and I let him bring his face real close, close enough to smell his rancid and rotting breath and feel it against my skin. He smiles in my face, laughs a bit under his breath, and nuzzles his nose against the burrow of my neck. He looks at me now, deep into my eyes, smiling all the same.
“You know what you have to do,” he breathes, whispers this little lullaby to me while he flutters his lashes and stares down at me with a listless stare. His hair falls in greasy blonde rivulets down the sides of his face, and I watch his teeth as his ruby red lips move with what he says.
“Just take off that mask of yours, and I’ll take off mine. I mean, unless you want to find a new city to continue our little game in. I'm game for anything at this point. But the real question is, are you?”
I growl now, because I’m full of rage. And I can’t stand myself for my pride, my selfish, horrible pride that won’t allow defeat. But what do I have left? I’ve already let everyone else die.
I lower my head, can feel him smile, and his hands snake up to my mask. They shudder from anticipation, shaky and blood stained hands that find each side of my face and gently rub what's exposed of my cheeks, savoring the time, body an endless tremor that quivers with excitement. This is what he lives for I realize. This is what makes him who he is. Or maybe he really is just obsessed with me? Is it insanity that makes him keep this game up, or has it become a drug that he can't live without? Am I really that intriguing to him?
He continues his work, and slowly snakes it inch by inch up my face, peeling it off of my sweat caked skin that makes it harder to get off, and I feel naked as he does. I’m becoming vulnerable, becoming prone to all his sniggers and snide little remarks he sneers under his breath. I can feel his body shaking against me, and my own body is shivering with him, our bodies both reeling with different feelings and I think I can hear his heart beating in harmony with my own. I can feel the cool air brushing against each inch of freed skin, as it slowly comes off. Breathing seems like it should be easier, but it's not. And the long wait ends as the mask comes off, and I can feel his eyes widen considerably in his head, diseased smile spreading over the sides of his face until the scars seem to rip at the seems. And it falls to the ground beside us, just like the thread of safety that was the only thing left. He has won.
His laughter starts off small, chuckles to giggles, to maniac like howling! It’s mocking me, yet I let him run his hands into my brunette hair. I let him pull me close, and push his face into the strands of my sticky string head, taking in every inch of me. I feel myself breaking, because it’s all too much. His hands are like curious children, running down from my face to my neck, to my chest, and up again. They rub my ear lobes then come together to my lips where they gently trace every crease and chapped surface of them, and up to my eyelids, running over them, smoothing them out; they seem to know no boundaries.
His own rugged lips push against mine, to explore me with his long snake like tongue, forcing itself into the burrow of my mouth to nest there, wiggling around to get comfy, in and out to find more room, and then leaving to find more prey. He kisses everything, each lid of my eye, the tip of my nose, the corners of my lips right over my jaw and to my ear where his gross yellow teeth nibble on my ear. I don't protest at all, too absorbed into myself to care, and at the same time his attention always gets the best of me. It's what dragged me into this in the first place. It's what destroyed me and everyone and everything else that I loved. And even though I hate him so fucking much it is this simple little fact that keeps me from murdering him, and oh have I thought of doing so. It is that I love him.
And just like that, all my pride falls forgotten too, and I am Bruce Wayne again. And as Bruce Wayne I have no shame. I cram the hidden batarang right into his gut, and I can hear his breath catch in his throat for a moment.
His laughter falls into a baritone of steady breaths, and I can finally look up into his face. He smiles at me, almost peacefully, as he falls into my chest, and I gather him up because he’s the only thing I have left now. The only thing I know.
“Wow . . .” he breathes, and he sighs and snuggles into me more. “Just . . . wow . . .”
And suddenly he moves, very quickly in his current predicament, and just like that a very sharp pain fills my abdomen. I gasp, as it all comes too fast for me. When I look down I find the shard of glass embedded in between my armor plates, and I cringe and roll my head back against the wall behind us as it becomes too much of a hassel to hold up any longer.
I can feel his smile on the skin of my neck, as he pulls himself up using my body as support, and his breath is warm and kind of inviting. He coughs loudly, letting out a raspy and desperate laugh. I can feel my own heart beat slowing down a bit, my own breathing coming out in very ragged pants, and my half-lidded eyes strain to look down at the mop of blonde-green hair tangled within my hand, because I’m holding him close now, since he is mine and only mine.
“Did you think . . .” he says, between breaths, “I’d just let you take me?”
I smile, chuckle a little under my breath because it is the end, and why not die at least smiling? I push my head into his air, breath him in as he did with me, and shudder a little when the smell of apples and gunpowder tickle the inside of my nose. Not what I expect, but it's the sweetest smell I've ever smelt.
"No. . ." I manage to mutter back.
He laughs at this and shakes his head. "No, no, no. Batsy, I told you before . . . you complete me."
He truly is a man of his word.