you really should S̛M̴IL͜E more . . .

[particularlyvexing]

His words rang in her ears like a loud church bell, beckoning her to worship. But this wasn’t church and he wasn’t a priest. Sitting with him would not gain her a ticket into heaven and she liked that fact. She smiled sheepishly and went to sit with him. She crossed her legs, turning her body toward him. “I’ll have a whiskey. On the rocks?” She bit her bottom lip gingerly and blushed. He really knew how to chat up a lady but also get right to the damn point. 

Her heart was still beating rapidly as she saw one of the girls bring them their drinks and she reached down for hers and brought the cold glass up to meet his. “To a night neither of us will forget.” She smirked, taking a sip and sighing at the incredibly satisfying liquid that burned her throat. “So… what is your name, Stranger?” she asked, smirking slightly, unable to look at him without blushing. He definitely wasn’t ugly. He was fucking gorgeous and had this haunting glow about him. Like she’d be crazy to go home with him but crazy not too all in the same breath.

She scooted closer to him, only slightly. She felt very vulnerable in this moment. Although that was probably because she was wearing a black bedazzled bra, a red thong, black thigh high socks, and red spiked heels. She had her hair up in pigtails as well. “If you don’t mind me asking… what made you choose me? There are plenty of gorgeous women in this place. Why me?”

[hahaheeheehaha-blog]

There a brief huff of laughter, a slow smile curling on his lips as she takes a seat beside him instead of atop him. Good girl, he muses, fingers running along glass as he follows the way she moves, shy, uncertain. So his words have taken her off guard, good. When another round is brought, he raises his glass to meet hers with a delicate clink. A brow raises at her words, spotting the quick tongue beneath the demure mask. Interesting. Either way, he lets her do the talking for now as he sips at his drink and leans back in his seat.

“Ah ah ah, all good things to those that wait, for now, you can call me Mister J.”

His smile is a display of white teeth and questionable intent. Her hair tickles his arm where it’s draped along the back of the booth and he watches her give in, crawl slowly closer. All skin and innocence dressed in black and red. “I don’t mind,” he says simply enough, turning to face her and daring to curl a finger lazily in the wave of a pig tail. Her question is to be expected, the building is full of beautiful women all bursting at the seams with potential.

“You’re different than them. You’re hungry for it.”

Another smile, a tilt of his head as he lets go of her hair in favor of taking another drink. His gaze is wandering the club, considering her words and wondering if maybe he should find another to satisfy his appetite. Again he’s pulled back to her innocent curls and crimson red lips. Fingers, chilled from his gin, catch her chin holding her fast.

“You’re just shy of being something unobtainable,” he muses, his thumb following her lower lip and smearing it with practiced ease. “The rest of these women wear their age like a badge. But you’re practically a virgin by comparison and I happen to like that in my women.” His gaze follows her throat, contemplative, as he chuckles low and dark. Her lipstick is vibrant against her pale skin when his thumb drags down her chin to smooth along her throat. Slowly his hand retreats from warm skin in favor of cold glass.

                               “Tell me why you stayed.”

[particularlyvexing]

@hahaheeheehaha

It was a slow night but Harley liked those every once in a while. It gave her time to think and really just enjoy dancing, despite all of the googly eyes that were glued to her body. She let her blonde hair fall to her shoulders as she pulled the pony tail out, feeling the music as she swung around the pole seamlessly. She ground against it, moving her body as smooth as the ocean. 

She swung her hips from side to side as she squatted down to the base of the pole and then scooped her body up, her bottom in the air, probably grinding into some man’s face. All the better to grab an extra tip, she supposed. She had been dancing for a year and she was doing pretty well for herself. She was away from her insane parents and off on her own, living her life. She was just scraping by but it was enough… for now. She didn’t want to dance forever. She wanted to travel and see the world… find the elusive “one”. 

When her set finished, her manager came over to let her know she was being requested for a lap dance. She felt his eyes on her instantly as they bore into her skin, taking in her every curve. She felt chills run up her spine. She nodded and walked over, her heart suddenly beating harder than she’d ever felt it before. What in the world was wrong with her? She never got nervous like this for lap dances. This was part of her job. A part that she’d gotten fairly used too.

“You requested my presence, darling?” she asked, smiling her charming smile.

[hahaheeheehaha-blog]

“Something like that.”

Oh she’s beautiful, perfectly ample where it counts but there’s something desperate in her eyes. He noticed it when her gaze swept the crowd and swallowed the feeling down with the burn of gin. A motion of his hand and he’s passing a few twenties to the manager with a nod towards the blonde being groped. Up close she’s painfully young and all legs.

The music is enough to fill the space between them before he motions to the other side of the booth. His gaze remains pointedly on her face, as if dipping lower was breaking some kind of rule. Skin was precious only when it wasn’t pawed and tugged at by countless men. So, he being a gentleman, keeps his eyes on hers.

“You have a choice,” he says softly, kindly as possible, “come sit in my lap, whisper in my ear about how you want ‘Daddy’ to give you something good, and maybe earn a hefty tip depending on how badly I want to fuck you.” A pause and he sips idly at his drink. “Or you can take a seat, let me buy you a drink, have a pleasant conversation, maybe learn my name, and earn more than a few twenties fluttering against your ass.”

Now his eyes wander, appraising carefully, before crawling slowly back to her face. She may as well already be naked for what little she’s still wearing. Ice clinks against glass as he sets his drink back on the table, leaning back, waiting.

                       “So darling, what’s your poison?”

[particularlyvexing]

Case #140: “The Joker”

[particularlyvexing]

Harleen gazed into the eyes of the insane killer, the very presence of him electrifying in a way. He moved with such grace and such menacing confidence… it was chilling. Something about him had her attention and she was completely tuned in. Completely harnessed by this man… this legend. She was enamored. She shook herself from her thoughts and smiled. 

“I’ts nice to meet you Mister Joker. My name is Dr. Harleen Quinzel. Well… almost doctor. I’ve been assigned to meet with you three times a month for the next six months. My job is really just to talk with you, listen, and write everything down. I want to get to know you, what makes you t-tick…”

She dropped her pen nervously. She reached down to pick it up, feeling her cheeks grow red. “You’re my first patient, actually.” She smiled thoughtfully. “So! Um… tell me about yourself. In whatever capacity you feel comfortable telling me. Anything is fine, Mister Joker. I am merely a student ready to learn.”

Her heart was beating a mile a minute. She wouldn’t associate this feeling with fear… no. It was something different. Something more concrete. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it but it was exciting. And honestly, she didn’t want it to end.

[hahaheeheehaha-blog]

“Oh a doctor. Well doesn’t that just change everything.”

A pleasant smile is offered, though he’s already contemplating the quickest way out of this harness (or not really it didn’t matter to him) so he could see how loudly Alice screamed. She was clearly out of her league, out of her depth, and up to her neck. What a lovely neck it was too. The words are only half-minded, his tongue curling along yellowed teeth as he follows her movement. She’s terrified, oh poor thing poor thing this must be her first.

“I’m your first aren’t I, sweet cheeks?”

It comes out laced with a purring cackle, he’s rising to his feet and the guards are curling their fat hands on their batons. But he stands, stretching and showing to all the world he was harmless. A smile twists impossibly further upon his lips, the red lipstick chapped and rubbing off. They’d tried to wash him clean but years of makeup caked on only came off when given time. The idiots running Arkham tossed a lamb to slaughter and don’t realize it until too late when buckles are rattling and he’s got his thumbs popping the nearest guard’s eyes before using his body as a shield against the taser.

These sweet little boys aren’t allowed to kill.

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear...” It ends with a calm, the chair shoved up against the door pinning it in place and the bodies left to do what bodies do best; decay. Now he pulls the straight jacket loose, draping it upon the table and rolling his shoulders. Slowly those dark eyes settled on her and his teeth grows just a bit more.

                                “Better pay attention Doc,                              there’s a pop quiz at the end.”

[particularlyvexing]

Case #140: “The Joker”

She knew there was one more paper she needed to bring with her but she couldn’t remember where it had gone off too. It could be under her desk, but that would be too easy. In her book case would also be a good option but… Yes! There it was, right under a stack of books. 

She gathered it up and placed it in her manila folder. Grabbing her evaluation binder and a new pen, she headed out. This was her first one on one meeting with a real patient. The last stage of her internship before she became a real psychiatrist. It would be the first of many for the next couple months but it would be worth it… she hoped.

Since she was at the top of her class and had done excellently on her shadowing of one of the doctors on staff at Arkham Asylum, they put her with one of the most dangerous patients in the asylum; The Joker. No formal first or last name, just ‘The Joker’. To say she was nervous, was a gross understatement. She had heard things in the news about him all her life and about how he fought Batman time and time again… and got away every single time. She had to admit, it was admirable to outsmart one of the most well known and respected vigilantes in Gotham. But she’d never voice that opinion out loud.

She began descending the staircases and elevators down to where she was going to have her meetings. She walked and walked and finally arrived. There were two large guards outside the door which lead to a gray, drab room that only had a chrome metal table and two metal chairs on either end. There was a small window on one wall and that was it. She showed her badge to the guards and went in, setting her things down on one side of the table and sitting down, opening her binder and getting ready with her pen. She waited for what seemed like forever, until the doorknob turned and her heart stopped instantly.

[hahaheeheehaha-blog]

Arkham was getting a little dingy. They could really paint the walls, maybe a nice shade of steel grey instead of the boring cool grey they’d picked. Oh, and how it chipped away at the corners. Really it did nothing for the acoustics of the place. A click of his tongue just doesn’t sound the same on painted steel like it did against inch thick plexi. The guards are covered head to toe when they come for him, learning from the mistakes of baring a throat to his willing teeth. Seeing them cower as he rises to his feet draws out a breathy little chuckle that starts slow and turns manic.

“Oh-- You’ll have to forgive me boys,” he tips his head back, drawing in a rattling wheeze of a breath before rocking forward and meeting their drawn batons with a twisting grin. “I didn’t realize I was so under-dressed for the occasion. What’s the problem, afraid I might get a little hungry for a midnight snake?” Another giggle and one of their batons comes swinging down, making his ears ring from the contact. It’s just shy of being enough.

“Where are my manners,” Joker feels the beginning of a bruise -- woefully disappointing really, these guards could really learn to work on their backhand -- as they grab him roughly by bound arms and drag him unceremoniously through the hallway. Oh there is the Crocodile, the Riddler, the delightful Calendar Man, and really he stops paying attention as he continues to talk amiably with the two stoic men hefting him along.

“--and wouldn’t you know it, little boys really do have a weakness for candy. You should ask your friend about it, what was his name, Gerald? Ah yes Gerald sure loved to play hide and seek with the kiddies, told me so right before I put a smile on his face to show that son of his.”

They’re far from gentle shoving him through an open door and honestly he’d brush himself off if his hands weren’t otherwise occupied. A few steps has him face to face with a table and a woman dressed up. Ah, not a lawyer, no lawyers didn’t look this smart. Honestly they were dressed in a mask laid on as thick as his own and this one, well she was too open, too jittery to be one of the Gucci and Chanel slaves.

Taking a seat is difficult but he manages and leans back with a pleased sort of smile. He’s always liked blondes, it’s like the guards think it’s his birthday.

            “Well well well, Alice sure came a long way                                         for little ol’ me.”

[hahaheeheehaha-blog]

[hahaheeheehaha-blog]

[gothamart]

Joker VS Batman by ardian-syaf

[bear1na]

The Joker by Ben Oliver *

[rebelflet]

[hahaheeheehaha-blog]

sdkay:

Harley Quinn

[rebelflet]

[hahaheeheehaha-blog]

"We could kiss right now, and no-one would know.”

ahhhh and there’s his harls. granted people think he’s the type to abuse and mutilate a woman but it’d been far more entertaining taking his model citizen of a psychiatrist and ruining him so beautifully. fingers coil about that pale throat and his nose wrinkles at the lingering scent of lavender.

ivy.

that sour apple was always trying to ruin his fun and take his pretty little harley. it’s not like it means much though, harls is a product of his boredom and only allowed to live because he looks so pretty bleeding out. when those words come out, he barks out a harsh laugh and drags harley closer by tightening his grip about that pretty little windpipe.

“Ahhhhhhh, but Haaarls, what if I want them t’know eh? Wouldn’t be the first time you’d come out a little hot-blooded,” he sneers against the shell of quinn’s ear as fingers creep past bothersome fabric, roughly smoothing down skin to get a nice firm grip between harley’s legs.

“What a dirty bird you are, Harley,” joker croons, giving a subtle squeeze with both hands before crashing into those painted up lips with biting, bruising, force. teeth tug and drag until skin rips and he can lick the blood up filthily before slamming harley back harder against the wall and humming low.

                          “Give me a little sugar, babydoll.                                            Spread your legs.”

[hahaheeheehaha-blog]

Dibs ( for all characters on all accounts. and this is late but i'm cute so it's allowed. )

cutest little nutmeg, you’re entitled to all my love.

[hahaheeheehaha-blog]

[hahaheeheehaha-blog]

confirmedfurry:

for your otp thing: who dies and who destroys a fucking city in grief

[hahaheeheehaha-blog]

sprynonagenarian:

it’s remarkable what a little makeup and paint will do. white skin, green hair, it’s almost like he’s the man he was before! no wonder there’s such an immediate response that sends delightful shivers down his spine.

“Oh— that look right there. See Gotham’s lacking a little kick, blue eyes. You got it perfectly in those eyes.”

but see he’s trigger happy.

and you make such a good target.

                                         “Smile for the birdy.”

[hahaheeheehaha-blog]

mxttmurdock:

Matt’s hands clench into fists. Jason endured a year and half of this—and far worse. Matt can endure five more minutes in his presence.

He pulls the cape out of the bag he’s carrying. It’s his only way forward but it still feels like sacrilege giving a symbol of such goodness to something so evil.

Father forgive him. Foggy, I’m coming for you.

“What do I have to do”

an echoing laugh of pure glee slips free. he doesn’t question how the black hood managed to get such a sacred little thing, but he clutches it brazenly in his hands. oh yes, bruce will look so much better bleeding on the very thing, the very symbol he meant to protect.

hope was fleeting, hope was poison, and he knew it all too well. so he wraps the cape about himself like a blanket and cackles with delight. he almost forgets that the hood had spoken.

“Ahh yes, what good is a hero without his trials,” and he grins all the wider as he ends up draping the cape over an arm instead. “All heroes need to face the immortal and undying, it makes them feel— ahhh — more alive. Their deeds more noble, kind of like you. Well it just so happens we have our own undying hydra here in Gotham.”

laughing, he turns to face his chosen hercules in this little tale of woe. oh, the joker wants to see the man’s face when he tells him what to do next.

            “Bring me the head of the dionaea muscipula--                                     from Poison Ivy’s garden.”

[hahaheeheehaha-blog]

mxttmurdock:

Matt very obviously bristles at the touch, but he knows one thing: Jason was right. Bruce is with Foggy, which  means Foggy is (relatively) safe. 

He gives an experimental sniff. If he can get even a whiff of anything he can trace…

               —He has to force himself to not wrinkle his nose. Antiseptic. Which either means hospital or Joker covered his tracks.

“You tell me what you’re doing to them, and I’ll do your little task.”

“Oh you know, I’m taking them to a day spa.”

foggy though, he was wrapped up nice and tight with enough c4 to make a terrorist blush. bruce on the other hand, well, bruce was on the way to becoming a piece of art. but mister black hood hadn’t deserved that tidbit.

he’s strange enough to sniff him.

well it took all types, he mused as laughter rips free and he wiggles his fingers. “The cape and then you get a little juicy tidbit. Unless you want the juicy tidbit. That friend of yours has such nice hands.” a little giggling laugh slips free, fingers making a move to wipe tears of glee from his eyes. oh how he cracked himself up sometimes. but really did the hoods think it would be that simple to outsmart him?

                       “Task number two starts now,          and if you want a hint you trade the cape for it.”