SCREWY LITTLE TROUBLE MAKIN' CLOWN!!

i'm just a man, a man who's trying to help. bruce wayne, the batman, of dc comics written by oz. highly private, highly selective, mutuals only. mixed media, headcanon - inspired, multi - verse, duplicate friendly. ©

it’ll be ten quid.

shut the door.

no!! no, NO– AAAAAAA–!!!

murder. one of the girls.

what paper are you from?

which magazines sell the most? the ones with girls on the front covers and no front covers on the girls.

the times, please.

well, he won’t be doing the crossword tonight.

oh, come on, sonny, make us famous.

i went out with my boyfriend– we’re getting married next month– only trouble was, my fiance saw us!

you’re a puzzle and a half.

this is a spare-time job for you, isn’t it?

it’s her first time.

he said you needn’t photograph my face.

maybe you can fix my bruises too.

don’t be shy. for me, it’s my first time too.

it’s that chap from upstairs.

hello! i don’t know how many times we’ve passed each other on the stairs, and tonight i’m determined to at least say hello. so hello!

i’d like to offer you a drink.

you see, a hostess can’t drink water at her own party– it looks like a hint to the guests.

you’re the landlord? but you walk about as if you haven’t paid the rent!

i’ll go first.

it belonged to my father.

this all seems so terribly technical.

if this is where you work, i can’t wait to see what you work at.

this is the first twenty-first birthday present i’ll ever have given.

naughty boy! i hope you were spanked.

what a strange thing for your father to photograph.

___, this isn’t some sort of a joke, is it?

dry your eyes and stop being silly.

you’d better go.

so he was a scientist?

what was he trying to do to you?

he was interested in the reactions of the nervous system to… to fear.

especially fear in children. and how they react to it.

i’d wake up sometimes, screaming, and he’d be there. taking notes. and pictures.

i’m sure good came of it. for some people.

he was brilliant.

the party looks like breaking up. we were wondering if–

i hope that you have a sweet tooth.

thank you for my… present.

good night, old boy.

these are the figures you wanted, mr. _____.

paramount wanted it, mgm wanted it.

this time, would you at least try to forget that you’re stunning and try to look stunned?

one kind word, and i would be stunned.

if i have to pretend to faint once more, i will faint!

you’re wonderful, darling.

not tonight. meeting someone. for a drink.

how’s my favorite stand-in today, huh?

oh! you frightened me.

i’ve put the red light on.

but then they’ll know someone’s here!

they won’t come in.

they’ll wait outside, and what’s the difference?

you’ll be caught.

d’you mind if i warm up?

you belong there.

they can only hang you once.

be patient, please. it’s going to be worth it.

i’m photographing you photographing me.

yes sir, mister director, sir!

i know you’re trying to create an atmosphere for me, but i just don’t feel frightened at all.

what WOULD frighten me to death? set the mood for me.

imagine someone coming towards you. he wants to kill you. regardless of the consequences. a madman, yes. but he knows it. and you don’t. and just to kill you isn’t enough for him.

yes, that would be frightening!

there’s something else.

i heard him come in four paragraphs ago.

i think he could help me with my book.

you don’t like him. why not?

i don’t trust a man who walks quietly.

are you sure this is convenient?

___, thank you, it’s beautiful!

___, i’m here for some advice.

you see, i work in a public library, in the children’s section, and telling you that isn’t all that embarrasses me.

i’ll tell you one day, i promise.

oh, no. nothing’s impossible.

there are some things which i photograph for nothing.

don’t feel it, just do it!

sergeant, i’ve been on the force thirty-odd years, and i’ve never seen such fear as anyone’s face as on this girl’s. what was it she saw?

well, surely, chief, it was a man.

i’m familiar with that kind of terror.

i’ve been watching you.

i’d rather not tell you until it’s finished.

i called out good-night. i don’t know if she heard me.

it’s a documentary. 

gotcha!

i t’ought i hoyd a puddy-tat!

darling!

that’s very chivalrous of him.

why don’t we make him a present out of that window? he practically lives there.

how did you know he was there?

the back of my neck told me.

i’d like you to come in for a moment and meet my mother.

pity. i do like firsthand information.

how long is it since you’ve gone out without that? i don’t think i’ve ever seen you without it.

i trust you.

this was my… my mother’s room.

i am tactless, aren’t i?

that’s what i was going to say. “what a wonderful evening”.

you made it wonderful.

not you!

whatever i photograph, i always lose.

instinct’s a wonderful thing, isn’t it, ___?

good boy.

give her a proper rest. half an hour is useless.

interesting boy. he has his father’s eyes.

you don’t suspect him, do you?

i suspect everyone.

what are you looking at? haven’t you seen a key before?

you’ve spoiled my whole evening, you have.

i had a date with my new boyfriend.

have you gone completely crazy?

i didn’t stand up my gentleman friend and come back here and take my clothes off for you to start photographing the streets.

don’t let me see you frightened.

i must tell someone everything. sorry it has to be you.

you know some of what he did. but not all.

what did you do to those girls?

but if you’re frightened…

show me, or i’ll remain frightened for the rest of my life.

do you know what the most frightening thing in the world is? it’s fear.

i promised i’d never photograph you.

i’ve been ready for this for such a long time.

___– ___, i’m afraid.

___, i’m afraid. and i’m glad i’m afraid.

'Baby' isn't just jealous. 'Baby' is fuming. 'Baby' is simmering in various shades of lilac and mulberry in every pulsing, throbbing vein on his neck, hands and face. Baby's forehead vein alone would make Monica Geller turn green with envy. It's not because Harley looks nice. Very nice. Gorgeous, even. It's that everyone else in the room feels entitled to the same opinion—the kind of entitlement that only he gets to enjoy. It sickens him, the way people look at her. It disgusts him.

So he deals with it the only way he knows how.

He remembers when he used to tiptoe around it, wanton acts of violence. How he hated to be blamed for something he knew he was responsible for, but hated the very notion of being accountable for it. He hasn't, however, abandoned self-righteousness in favor of a newfound sense of accountability. He has simply reoriented, adjusting his worldview in favor of something a bit more anarchic. Nothing but bodies, bodies, bodies. Bodies to be played with and disposed of. Bodies to entertain himself with. Bodies to be humiliated. Bodies that exist to satiate his every whim in this world...including wanton acts of violence.

Harley's touch alleviates some of the upset. Not enough to quell his temper, but enough to draw him away from it long enough to try and form another coherent thought that isn't bookended by whatever savagery he can concoct in the moment. Eyes are far from the most creative punishment he's devised—and hardly the most lethal—but he's not exactly rational to begin, with. And when it comes to Harley in particular, maybe even less so. It bodes ill for everyone involved.

"I'm just getting started," Kilgrave growls, albeit half-entranced, attempting to pull the rest of her into his lap just to latch onto her even more. A parasite in Prada and Parmigiani. "I could turn this whole fucking club into a bloodbath, just for our amusement."

hypothesis: kilgrave would rather hurt someone else than her, even if she's the one he's mad at.

methodology: random sampling.

for a few seconds, she lets him just have her, digging his fingers into her waist beneath her fur coat-- it's nice to be wanted, after all! so she shifts over his lap. drapes her arms around his neck.

(her skirt will ride up quite a bit as she spreads her legs, but like, that's a him problem.)

"really? cause i thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiink..."

cheek-to-cheek, exchanging hot breath, no concept of personal space. she lifts his unoccupied hand-- drags her lip across the pad, grazes his nail with her teeth eagerly. and then she uses his hand to point someone out.

OF COURSE HE DOES!

And if he doesn't, he won't be wrong once they bully a judge into approving a legal name change! Her original birth certificate's outdated, ugly, and boring.

"uh, bad, j-man." yeah, okay, so learning middle names wasn't exactly a step on the swirly-curly board game path of their romance... but it's literally been years. they said it on 60 minutes! has he not even seen the episode of 60 minutes about her?!

"Don't break that chair," he mutters, a knee-jerk correction to her reckless and inconsiderate way of occupying space. He does not elaborate. She does not need to know where he gets his office furniture.

"Botox? For the migraines I endure because of people like you?" he scoffs. She's fucking with him, obviously, but let's make a good faith effort to engage, here.

"the very nature of a delusion defies logic. that's why it's a delusion, silly. it lives in your head and you can't just get rid of it. they're a lot like anxieties, in that way-- you know about anxiety? you seem like a guy with anxiety. you ever just standin' around, goin' over yer plans, and all of a sudden you worry if you filled up the tank on your getaway car? or someone's gonna see you do the thing?" (she gestures to her face, does a little shimmy.) "logically, yeah, sure, you know that you did. you remember doing it. but did you do it? did you really?"

she was a lot more eloquent as a psychologist, trust me.

"anyway, you wanna talk about cycles of violence, let's talk about batman ruining every chance i ever get at parole or probation." harley digs a smushed cigarette pack out of her back pocket, shakes out one sorry smoke. sticks it in her mouth. "i'm just tryna make a living out here, man. he's the one who keeps us on the hamster wheel."

IF I LOSE THE LIGHT, IT'S ALRIGHT — I'VE GOT TIME TO KILL