Why hello there!
Batman coffee table…..waaaannntttttt.
Batdance — Prince (Batman 1989) -[HQ] (by OfficialYambo)
That is looney tunes. Why am I only seeing this now?!
Come at me, brah.
My first tattoo. My version of the Bat symbol.
The bat symbol has always been a symbol of hope and justice to the people of Gotham, but to me, it’s a symbol of my childhood, my escape, my comfort, and my strength.
The sharp edges symbolize my sharp personality, and the tribal pillars inside it remind me of pillars of strength, which the Batman franchise and world have been to me for years.
(Here’s part 5, rather a short part. All parts and the photo that inspired this story can be found in my archive. Enjoy!)
The Joker was standing over her coughing body as she tried to hold back the laughter that was sure to follow. Each cough racked through her body like she was being shaken by a giant. “It’s my newest formula I’m playing around with. One ball holds the serum that sticks to your skin like an adhesive, that’s the green stuff, and the other holds the serum that sticks to the adhesive, so no matter where you try to hide, the purple cloud will find the green, and when they touch…” the corners of his blood red smile came out around the gas mask as he laughed loudly at the thought of her struggling to escape the purple cloud. He bends down to cup her face in his left hand, “I told you I was someone to stay away from, but I guess you should have tried to stay away from the gases more, eh? Heh, don’t fight it, just accept the merry death I have provided for you.” He released her face and kicked her in the stomach, flipping her over as she continued to cough, her lips spread into a full cheshire smile. “Heheheh, you look like the cat from that old fairytale! Alice in Wonderland, was it? Mad Hatter would just love you for tea! To bad you’ll be dead.” he started another chorus of malicious laughter that echoed in the night skies.
A dark shape had swooped down from the rooftops, kicking Joker away from Catwoman’s coughing body, and rushed to her side. She could barley keep her eyes open now as the coughing turned to loud laughter from her small frame. Please, make this stop! she wanted to scream but could not make the words leave her lips, only more laughter escaped. She felt a pinch in her neck and slowly the laughter died down. Her body was instantly exhausted from the ordeal and she could feel herself passing out but at her last moments of conciseness, was able to look up in time to see the Joker climb a fire escape, and a dark shadow chase after him. The Batman had saved her again. Then all went dark.
(Like this an it will force me to work faster on part 6 featuring the showdown between the Bat and the Clown in Steampunk Gotham!)
(Here’s part 4 of my story revolving around the idea of the steampunk drawing of the Batman villiains. Part 1 through 3 are in my archive. Enjoy!)
She lept from rooftop to rooftop, grinning wildly as her heels clacked on the cold, wet brick. Her arms pumped her faster and she glided over the alleyways with ease. Her heart raced, adrenaline surged through her, her entire body was on fire with excitement. She loved her nightly runs, they made her feel so alive.
A small light caught her eye in the distance, and she sped up to see what was going on so late at night. There were men running away from the Gotham Bank, catching her eyes like mice in a field. The doors of the bank had been ripped open, one lay shattered in the street.
She smiled a mischievously, “How interesting, a robbery at the bank and no one invited me? Well, I could always use some new play things, maybe I can just help myself to their earnings.” She moved along the rooftops in time with the men below her, watching each of them carefully as not to loose one. She slid down the gutter with a grace only she could master, and hid in the shadows of the alleyway as one of the men holding a large sack, slowed to a walk. He wore a long over coat and a black and purple fedora, she couldn’t see his face but she could tell he wore a gas mask and goggles, a fashion she commonly saw among criminals, regardless if it was sunny or pitch black. The man came to a complete stop and turned slightly in the direction of the alleyway.
“Can I help you, Kitty?”
Her eyes narrowed, only one man ever dared to call her Kitty. She was no longer in the mood to toy with her prey, she simply wanted to maim it. She remained crouched in the shadows, knowing that her goggles were the only thing illuminated by the streetlamps, giving off a slight shine resembling eyes in the dark alley.
“My my, aren’t we naughty, Joker. Stealing from the good citizens of Gotham again? Tsk tsk. Have you not a guilty conscience?” she gave out a low purr emphasizing the mocking tone she used with him.
“Am I to believe you weren’t just following me to try to steal it for yourself?” he had turned fully in her direction now. “Come out of the dark, dear, let me have a look at you.”
Hesitantly, she stood up and walked into the street, letting the dim light spill over her body. Her black leather body suit was of her own design, it hugged at every muscle and curve. Her knee high boots were tight around her muscular calf and her leather jacket was snug around her arms. She couldn’t afford loose clothing when leaping from building to building. Her favorite part of her outfit was her black cowl, made from leather and shaped to fit her head exactly. The top of the cowl was the very idea of who she was, the ears of a cat, the only certain giveaway of the identity she took on at night; Catwoman.
“I had thought you were dead, no one had seen you in quite some time after your interaction with the Weed woman.” the words weren’t followed by a purr but she understood him to be mocking her just the same.
“I had a cold.” she stated, trying not to think of the humiliation he hinted at. Last job she had committed landed her with a nasty bump on the head caused by a, not so very sweet, flower. She needed some time to rest, after that.
“Maybe that will teach you to stay out of Pammy’s way, hmm?” Not likely, she thought. “Now you’re trying to interfere with my night, is it? Not very bright of you, haven’t you read the papers? I’m someone to stay away from.”
“We’ll see.” she retorted. They just stared at each for a moment, goggles shining in the streetlight. Then he dropped something from out of his sleeve and tossed it at her so quick that even her eyes strained to see the movement. She caught the object in the air as he took off running, laughing wickedly. She smiled at the thought of the chase and looked down at the object. It was a simple ball shape made from old clock clogs and bronze metal. Before she had time to further inspect the item, it popped open and exerted a green gas into the air around her.
“Damnit!” she tossed the item into the alleyway behind her and took off after the Joker. She was lean and agile, it wouldn’t take her long to catch up to him.
As she rounded the corner, he was waiting with another of his gas balls and tossed it into the air, this time it shot out purple gas and she had no time to escape the cloud falling around her. She immediately collapsed to the cobblestones desperate for air. She could feel the corners of her mouth pulling up at the sides and realized with horror what the gas was; Joker Venom.
(Part 5 will be posted immediately. Hope you enjoyed part 4!)
(Enjoy the third part of my story inspired by the steampunk photo with Joker and Harley Quinn. First two can be found in my archive, along with photo.)
“We can certainly move out of this joint now. I was beginning to hope someone else would take the time to burn this place to the ground for me while I was out.” Harley ignored the thought that he wanted someone to burn down their current hideout while she was still hiding out in it.
A loud clang sounded through the small room as the Joker’s fork dropped to his plate. He patted his stomach enthusiastically, “Well that was filling. Time for bed, I suppose. We can start looking for a new place tomorrow, by which of course, I mean you will, I am far too tired and after a great night like this one, I need a good nights sleep.”
Harley could feel his eyes watching her as she placed the sack onto the table and started to clean up after his meal. She snuck a quick look at him in time to catch a yawn escape his long lips and his arms stretch out above his head. If she played her cards right, she might be able to get him to tell her tonights story. She was not always invited out on one of his jobs but when that happened, she knew he would want to talk about it afterwards if it was a successful one. She loved hearing his dramatic recaps of the night, even if she was with him; he always made it seem so much more thrilling, not that they usually lacked thrill.
The Joker stood up and walked to the corner of the room where a small bed was placed, barely big enough for the both of them. More than once, can Harley recall, being pushed out of it late at night, leaving only the cold wooden floor for her to sleep. She never complained, she was just happy when he woke up the next morning in a good mood.
“Well?” he had plopped himself down onto the covers and when Harley looked over, he stuck his feet in the air. She stabbed her crushed cigarette out into the ashtray and rushed over to help him with his boots.
Pulling at each buckle, one after the other, she asked, “Do you want to retell the story tonight, Puddin’?” and held her breath, awaiting his response.
He had closed his eyes, lying on the mattress and for a moment, she thought he had fallen asleep. After a moment, he sighed, “If only to entertain you, my dear, but it will be a short one tonight, I am exhausted.” She knew he was lying, his stories were never short when they were about his success, but she didn’t dare speak her doubts.
“That’s okay, sweetie. You can skip some stuff if you want.” He wouldn’t.
She had tucked his boots close to the wall so that he would not trip over them when he woke up, and placed his sore feet onto the bed. She dimmed the oil lamp close to her on the window sill and patiently, she waited while she took off her own boots and placed them next to his. She smiled softly as she examined his features, illuminated by the streetlamps outside. His long, thin body, spread across the length of the mattress, his legs draped in the purple cotton pinstriped pants he always wore. Without his coat, his grass green shirt had badges of his work placed here and there; soot, mud, and some blood stains. He preferred to wear cropped sleeves, now hugging at his toned arms that were placed behind his head. His green hair, an unusual color, which made him so different from the other men she was used to, stuck up and out. His pale white face glowed in the darkness like the angel she thought of him as and only his dark red lips, which curved up at the sides, were any indication that he wasn’t. His long slender nose complimented his long chin and it was the final touch of perfection that Harley knew would keep her to him forever. He looked so peaceful on the bed, grinning at nothing like a joke only he could hear.
He popped open one eye to see whether she had left and noticing her above his body, he heaved another sigh, “Come on then, make yourself into a Quinn ball so I can start.” He slid his body closer to the wall to make enough room for her to curl up next to him. She gave a small squeal of delight as her small body squished into his side, arms and legs pressed tightly into the side of his body, her head on his chest.
“Alright, lets see, where to begin…how about when the annoying Bat-pest shows up?” Seeing the delight in Harley’s eyes, he continues.
(That’s it for now. Like this and it will force me to work faster on the fourth part.)
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