Pairings: Scarecrow/Mad Hatter, (ambiguous Scarecrow/Riddler)
Warnings: BDSM, needles, dub-con, language, acts that could potentially be considered sacrilegious against Christianity.
Notes: For the prompt by crowscrow "Silk and flowers... but a bit dark, not too sweet." Her Scarecrow/Mad Hatter stories are awesome. I seriously advise you to read them if you have any interest in the pairing or just plain good stories.
Sorry to disappoint anyone but in spite of the rating and warnings, there's no actual sex here. Just a lot of references and sexual overtones. I wanted to put some in but sadly it didn't fit.
Appearance and backstory-wise, mainly Batman: the Animated Series for Jervis and Year One for Jonathan with bits from others here and there. It doesn't matter much except for a few references to Jonathan's past with his great-grandmother and Jervis having tanned skin.
Jonathan and Scarecrow are not quite split personalities in the sense of dissociative identity disorder here. Scarecrow is more like a persona Jonathan allows to take control of his body to overcome his fears and act upon his most psychotic and sadistic urges by pretending to be a different, god-like person. They talk to each other in his head to debate things.
If Jervis seems particularly English at the beginning of this that's because I'm English and that aspect of him often seems under-represented in my opinion. The extract of hymn is a real one we sung at my primary school called "Light Up The Fire".
Parts of Jervis' speech in bold are quotes from the works of the great Lewis Carroll.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters nor the Carroll quotes.
Fear Flowers This Night
"A large rose tree stood near the entrance of the garden: the roses growing on it were white, but there were three gardeners at it, busily painting them red." Jervis mumbled the quote to himself, trying to steady his nerves a little as he paced around the graves, bouquet in hand. Honestly, a church of all places with his hatred of God... "Alice thought this a very curious thing, and she went nearer to watch them." Satisfied his courage was sufficient, the Mad Hatter walked up the broken path towards an imposing door off its hinges now made of warped and rotting wood. This church had once been impressive; built by some of Gotham's first settlers. But now it lay dilapidated, amongst a sea of condemned buildings. Its steeple had fallen, many of its walls caved in. The graves were untended, overgrown with such long grass any number of zombies or jabberwockies could be hiding in it. Or zombie jabberwockies. The Mad Hatter dared not think of that, not without a Vorpal Blade to hand.
"Now back in England," Jervis stepped over the church's threshold which consisted of broken door frame and ragged bell-rope that had fallen from its rusted hanging places, "they build churches that last. These Americans... dear, dear..." He adjusted one white glove absent-mindedly as he stepped nonchalantly over and under everything in his path. The stepping under was easier, considering his height. "Though I suppose one can always derive humour from their Yankee ignorance and jingoism."
The inside of the church was as bad as the out, maybe worse. Broken pews wrenched from the floor, piled up into an unlit pyre on the side of the nave with less wall. No carpets or hassocks remained in any state except awful and every stain-glass window was shattered. There was little of anything that could be called a roof left above though a few beams hung down, dangly limply with a slight sway in the evening wind. Reminiscent of a scarecrow's arm maybe, or perhaps that was just because of the current preoccupation of the Mad Hatter's mind.
"Oh March Hare!" Jervis called very loudly around this crumbled shell of a building. "You are terribly uncivil to keep me waiting like this! It is meant to be my watch that is two days wrong!"
It wasn't as if they had a prior engagement for Jonathan to actually be late too. Tonight, Jervis had just turned up here randomly after finally learning where his on-off lover was holed up before his next undertaking. They were only a few weeks out of Arkham; the Mad Hatter had been able to engineer a rudimentary brain-halting device from a stolen phone, desk lamp and bed spring to bust the two of them out. But then the dashing, English hero of the escape had been all but left for Bat-meat by his lankier, faster partner who had sprinted away into the night as the Caped Crusader descended upon them. How the Mad Hatter had escaped that was little more than a miracle.
These three weeks and they hadn't seen each other at all, not counting the news broadcasting their escape. Jervis' body now longed for what it recognised as its mate after a year of this. It was no longer just a matter of convenience, a way to pass the long nights, to disgust and terrify the homophobic guards, something that made sense considering how pleasant they considered each others' company. It had started happening outside of Arkham, now and then, if the rogues bumped into each other and had a night spare laying low. Now it was...
Jervis Tetch looked down to the flowers in his hand, running the other through his blonde shock of hair without upsetting his precious top hat.
Now it was...
"It really is quite rude of you to keep me waiting so!" The Mad Hatter strode gracefully up the aisle to the altar, his nose turned up and dignity in every step of his white spats. "The tea party cannot start without you!"
When he reached the altar, all proof that this was where Scarecrow was currently residing was found.
Why was Jervis calling out to him before he even knew that the other felon was there?
Well he is called the Mad Hatter you know.
Muttering about sacrilege and how unsurprising it was, the Englishman leant his back against the chipped font, one of the only things still in a reasonable condition, and folded his arms.
Glancing around, but seeing nothing of interest, he pulled his pocket watch from his waistcoat and checked the time. It may have been two days slow but 7:45pm it certainly was.
Not that they had a date or anything.
Click. The watch shut and put away. Nothing really to do but call again, though that seemed not to be working.
Jervis sighed, rubbing his forehead and around his eyes with gloved fingers. His sleep had been erratic at best lately, sleep problems were a common feature of mania which he suffered from, and even then plagued with awkward dreams and fearful nightmares. Sleeping with Scarecrow, as he did, the two were often the same thing these days.
Something calming. Something soothing. Not quite tea time yet so something else...
"...Open your eyes, look into the sky
The darkness has come, the sun came to die
The evening draws on, the sun disappears
But Jesus is living, his spirit is near."
In the pause between verse and chorus Jervis heard nothing except maybe very quiet footsteps. He sung on in a melodic tenor regardless.
"So light up the fire, let the flame burn
Open the door, let Jesus return
Take seeds of His spirit, let the fruit grow
Tell the people of Jesus, let his love show..."
The hymn trailed off once icy blue eyes surrounded by burlap were glaring at him.
"What are you singing?" The God of Fear asked in a hissed voice, obviously very displeased. His arms were folded, a defensive and rude posture, and he was already in full Scarecrow costume. Ready for a night on the town?
"A hymn." The Mad Hatter answered simply, running his tongue over his prominent front teeth with a slight smirk of cockiness. "I do believe that is what people do in churches Jonathan darling."
"Why?" Now Jonathan's voice was just flat and plain uninterested, despite his question showing curiosity. "...You aren't religious, are you?" He asked warily. The couple hadn't discussed religion since making clear his obvious hatred of the thing.
Jervis tutted, shaking his head. "Nothing of the sort. I merely attended a Church of England school, rather common practice in middle-class, English villages. Shall we call my singing..." He hummed thoughtfully, tapping one finger on his chin while the other hand hid behind him, "nostalgia?"
Either way, Scarecrow seemed utterly unimpressed. Oh he would concede Jervis could sing well, a childhood singing hymns was worth something it seemed, but the entire fact of religion put him off caring in the slightest.
Rolling his eyes at the discourteous silence, the Mad Hatter slid around the font he leant against, keeping that one hand hidden, as the other pulled a teaspoon most randomly from his pocket and began to stir the greenish liquid that took the place of the holy water. "Really... I have heard babies scream enough at christenings without replacing the holy water with fear toxin Marchie."
"How did you find me here?" There wasn't time for all this chatter. There were Gothamites not currently screaming in terror that needed to be cured of said ailment.
Still stirring the fear-font like a very large, lime-coloured cup of tea, "...I followed the yellow brick road?" the Mad Hatter quirked a demented grin at his sackcloth companion.
It didn't go down well. "Stick to Carroll, Jervis." The tall, lanky one came a little closer. "What are you doing here?" He demanded, attempting to use his height as intimidation though by now it had no affect even on the slightly dwarfed man.
"I'd like to have tea Jonathan," Jervis continued to grin to himself, wiping the spoon and putting it away, "just the two of us. Not even with Dormouse." He turned his brilliant, Cheshire Cat smile upon his lover. "What do you say?"
Frankly, anything could be a euphemism the camp way that Jervis talked but Jonathan was willing to bet "tea" really was one in this context. He knew Tetch got very lonely without him these days. Some kind of attachment. Obviously he was true to his sobriquet, utterly insane, if he had formed some kind of longing to be with the Master of Fear so desperately.
"I'm busy tonight." The doctor went to leave, heading back towards stairs that led to the church's dank but expansive and hidden basement. It served adequately as a laboratory.
"Oh but March Ha-!"
"I am busy."
And now he hoped that was the end of it.
But no, somehow the little madman had grabbed onto his costume before he could disappear. Jonathan pulled it loose with a sharp sigh before the blonde fiddled it undone with his anxious fingers.
"I... Jonathan, I..." Jervis tried to begin, his face, hidden under the tilted brim of his hat and a shaggy golden fringe. "Well, you see-"
"What?" Although he knew something was hidden behind the back of the other rogue, frankly Dr. Crane didn't give a toss what it was and it could stay there all night for all he cared. Even if it was, as most likely seemed, something for him.
The sharp way he kept being cut off made the Mad Hatter cringe. Well, it was always pleasing to see him worried and awkward like that...
Eventually, he seemed to summon the courage to speak to Jonathan again. "...It's been so long... Haigha should want to see Hatta after he gets out of prison..." Back to Carroll it seemed. Jervis was mumbling slightly now. "He only gets oyster shells in there and it makes him so dreadfully thirsty-"
"Get to the point Tetch."
That was the third interruption.
Enough.
"I braved the damn Bat for you Jonathan! I was this," He held up pinched fingers, "close to getting my head cut off!" Jervis was yelling now, his mood turning in an instant as normal. The anger had snapped him back to some semblance of lucidity. His blue eyes blazed and his posture had moved into a more aggressive, fighting-ready stance. He spat and snarled, pointing a finger to a fresh cut upon his cheek. "His batarang, dearest! It seemed to want to give me a kiss more than you do, you swine!" Now the small man stropped petulantly, stamping a foot and jabbing that same finger from before at his so-called lover's chest. "Not that I even expect you care! If it hadn't been for that rabbit hole I discovered in the museum-"
"Which museum?"
Another interruption?! "...The Natural History one. I barely-!"
"Shit..." Jonathan swiftly stormed down the stairs, two at a time with his long legs.
Jervis was left mid-rant, finger still pointed at where its target had been until seconds ago. His face frozen in the shock of being utterly disregarded in the middle of such emotional outpouring slowly turned after the departing man. "Dear Lord! Could you be any more fucking charming Jonathan?!" He hurried down the stairs too, having to take them slower with shorter legs. The laboratory at the bottom was Scarecrow's standard affair, all geared up around his precious fear toxin production with only the absolute minimal of survival furnishings. "Is there any point in me screaming my lungs out at you or is The Joker right?! Do you really have straw for brains?!" Indeed, his voice had become very high and strained. On the edge of tears? Maybe, since Jonathan didn't seem to see importance in anything except his experiments.
And worst of all, the busy doctor didn't even respond.
"JONATHAN CRANE-!"
"WILL YOU SHUT UP?!"
Both men seethed silently, glaring with the ferocity of animals across the small room. They were just as loud when shouting, their teeth just as clenched and, when Jonathan ripped his mask off, faces just as livid about the whole thing.
"Jonathan," All of Jervis' anger was just barely suppressed beneath civility but it could break at any moment, just as he could, "listen-"
"No, you listen." Jonathan's long legs stalked over with very definite steps. Amazingly, the mentally unstable blonde waited his turn. He just wanted to hear something, anything from that mouth, that could justify acting like this. "I have been planning to fear gas the club across from that museum for a fortnight. The event tonight is attracting a lot of very rich idiots." People tended to be easy targets to take from when they were tearing their own skin off in terror. "Now you have brought Batman and the police to that area looking for you and everything might nearly be ruined unless you stop throwing tantrums like a child Jervis and let me work out another way to do this." He pinched the bridge of his nose and slipped his glasses back on to work. "God, you're worse than Edward about getting attention sometimes..."
Jervis watched him walk away a bit, straight back to his planning and precious work. "...Do you even care about me in the slightest Jonathan?" His tone bit with sickly sweet sharpness, spurned affections that tasted like burnt chocolate. After all those nights together... All those times one couldn't sleep, Jervis' mania or Jonathan's medication, and the other had stayed up with them, just to talk. So many chess games which were really just a way of keeping their hands occupied whilst their minds and, dare the sentimental one say, their hearts connected. There were things they knew about each other that no one else alive was privy to. They were best friends.
Maybe even more...
As if he realised he was being a jerk but didn't care, the lanky Georgian gave him a quick glance and returned to sorting through papers for a map of the area and the blueprint for the club. He wasn't going to let a whole fortnight's planning be for naught. "...I care about the fact you've brought the whole city's attention to the one place I want to hit tonight." His answer was muttered and unsympathetic.
"That's not about me! That's about you and your stupid experiments!" Since Jervis was screaming about them, he swept an arm across the nearest end of a lab bench and sent books, dozens of sheets of paper and a lot of unused but precious lab equipment clattering and tumbling to the floor.
After that, he turned his back on the object of all his mixed and heated emotions.
In retrospect, a minute later, after he felt the pinprick of a needle and realised how close the other criminal now was, Jervis probably should have swallowed his pride and turned around.
"Wh-What?!" It was too late to think of taking the syringe out now.
Besides, it was soon removed for him since the contents were drained into his arm. "Oh but it is about you little Bunny..." Scarecrow hissed, almost his version of cooing. They were tired of Jonathan getting nowhere with the shouting and ignoring. "It's the reason you'll be having such a fun night..."
Things went dark, the tendrils of black creeping in as paralysis crept through his system. Jervis registered nothing but the God of Fear's chilling, breathy laughter echoing in his ears as he felt his sedated self passing out.
Frankly, he would have preferred the syringe to have been full of fear toxin.
~#~
Opening his eyes but seeing nothing made Jervis panic for a minute until his brain filled in his memory of Scarecrow and the syringe. No, he probably wasn't blinded. It was just dark or...
Yes, there was something not allowing his hair to quite sit right and a slight weight on his ears and nose. Blindfolded. Wouldn't be the first time. At least this one felt soft, silky even, as it slid over his skin with the gentle but deep rhythm of his breathing. Nothing would come of panicking so he was employing the deep breathing they made him learn in Arkham to control his excessive and overpowering emotions.
At first the Mad Hatter had thought his body ached and resisted attempts to move it because some of the sedative lingered in his system. That wasn't it though. Scarecrow wouldn't let his victims have any relief by giving them something that would linger so. He loved to see them screaming and fighting invisible phobias, cackling while they nearly killed themselves in the process.
The reason this victim couldn't currently move was because he was actually restrained at the ends of each limb.
Jervis had to wait and let his body and mind settle before he could work out exactly how he was restrained.
"...My, how appropriate I suppose..." He could only think those sentiments, finding his voice was yet to recover.
His arms were stretched out either side of him, tied at the wrists, while his legs were straight down, tied at the ankles. Crucified. The church must have kept a spare cross around for re-enacting the Easter story or something.
Those restraints were soft too, more silk? But as he shifted his head around, side-to-side, trying to shake loose the blindfold Jervis felt a different texture he was more intimately familiar with.
There was rope tied around his neck, Scarecrow's noose perhaps.
Taking a deep breath now he felt his voice might work, the Mad Hatter also discovered more rope was criss-crossed diagonally over his chest that kept him secure to the wood at his back. Now he was quite certain Scarecrow's noose wasn't that long unless it also grew when excited.
As weird, and somewhat terrifying, as this whole situation was, Jervis didn't much fancy hanging around here like this for too long. Hanging in this position was more the Fear God's thing.
"If you wanted to play Jonathan darling," He began, his voice cracking back to life after what could have been hours of no use, "you didn't need to knock me out."
...
No response.
Jervis had no idea how high up he was hanging but he could feel gravity pulling on him anyway. No wonder this was a punishment though if he remembered the Bible from his childhood, it took a few days for someone to die of crucifixion.
He tried speaking again.
"Perhaps I should have guessed that sacrilege is one of your kinks Scarecrow. You know that I'm terribly happy to dance any kind of dance you please so no need for sedation next time sweetheart." Affectionate pet names always merited some response, even if it was negative.
...
And still no reply.
Although he could tell he wasn't outside, it was rather pleasantly warm actually, Jervis had the strong suspicion he was naked. Either that or his clothes were a lot thinner than he remembered.
"I know that you hold god-like reverence for me Scarecrow but this is perhaps a little much to show it, do you suppose?"
Right. If Scarecrow was here, he would not like anyone else muscling in on his claims to god-hood.
"...Seeing how this world can probably do without a god of paedophiliac hat-makers," A scratchy, deep voice finally came to Jervis' ears, "I wouldn't flatter yourself."
"Ah finally!" Now he heard it, the Mad Hatter realised he had been speaking in entirely the wrong direction. Marchie was over the other side of the room. "Now, seeing as how I have no desire to hang around like this and make you wait," He couldn't resist a wicked grin at his pun, "do you suppose you might let me down now my dear?"
"...After all the trouble I went to displaying you up there?" Scarecrow answered with a sarcastic, rhetorical question. Jervis imagined him sitting in a chair, long legs folded casually and spider-like fingers steepled or perhaps drumming lazily on a thigh. His face, probably under his mask, would have his thin lips drawn into a tight, ever-so-slight smirk and his icy eyes would be fixed solely upon his victim. Behind them Scarecrow would be running ideas through his mind, weeding, pruning, perfecting. No worthless movements or wasted time. Whatever his plan was, it would be a precision masterpiece.
If... he did actually plan to do something with his crucified lover now...
Jervis had a horrible dread clawing at his stomach, pulling on it unpleasantly, that he might just be left like this. He might very well die like this. Now that would be a sight when they discovered the corpse.
Or skeleton.
He squirmed a little, using what contortion and escape techniques Edward and The Joker had been willing to pass onto him in Arkham whilst in better moods.
But of course Jonathan knew them too and had incorporated some measures against the most obvious in how he had tied the knots. Considering he was likely under the constant, watchful gaze of his captor, Jervis deemed escape a very unlikely conclusion to this situation.
So his options were bargain, threat, rile, beg or wait.
Frabjous.
""Now I can do no more, whatever happens. What will become of me?"" Nothing to do but quote whilst working out a plan.
He heard footsteps approach and followed them with his blinded gaze. "Always a quote... for every situation..." Scarecrow sounded wearied and displeased.
"Indeed. Just as you always have a chemical for every situation dear Scarecrow. Though," He chuckled here, "I fancy mine have greater variety."
"Fear," The other retorted with controlled anger, "is the so-"
"-le motivator of all human action yes, yes. We have been companions in crime for however many years now. Six?" At least that. Why, he could scarcely remember a time before the two of them had been together. The Mad Hatter and his March Hare had always been having tea, always were and always would be. It was forever tea time for them.
Jonathan was well aware his fellow rogue saw their relationship in such a light-hearted, amiable light. If only he could stay in reality long enough to remember he was a criminal the two of them could probably bring Gotham screaming to its knees. The Mad Hatter was without a doubt his favourite and most fruitful partner, not that he liked partners in the slightest.
But tonight other plans were afoot.
"Not that I suppose it really matters." Jervis had continued on his train of thought rather than deal with the reality of silence and darkness. "To best friends, six minutes, six years and six decades are all the same. Six... Why, that reminds me! 6 o'clock! It must be time for tea now March Hare!" His body twitched as if he wanted to jump up and begin preparing yet another tea party. "Come, come now. Unless you are professing that you do not think, you ought to talk. I am practically holding conversation with myself here. For this curious child was very fond of pretending to be two people. "But it's no use now," thought poor Alice, "to pretend to be twuh-!" He was cut off mid-quote by something long and thin Scarecrow shoved into his mouth.
"I'm tired of thisss..." Scarecrow hissed, forcing it in a little deeper.
Swallowing awkwardly with his tongue pressed down, Jervis did what he could to investigate the very thin thing in his mouth. It felt cold and smooth, straight with little give. Either the type of glass stirring rod one used in chemistry experiments or, more likely considering his company, yet another syringe. Good God... He'd had enough with the first.
"Ig dat-?"
"Yesss... This time it is fear toxin." The Master of Fear sounded a great deal closer to him now.
The glass body of the syringe clinked against his overbite as Scarecrow adjusted his grip.
"You ruined my plans for this evening with yours..." He seethed into Jervis' ear through burlap and coarse thread. "So now it's only fair I ruin yours for a nice evening in with Jonathan..."
Jervis gagged as the end of the needle scraped back over his tongue, letting one small drop of the chemical flow onto his tongue and down his throat. Fear toxin had a mixed flavour of washing up liquid, furniture polish, petrichor, tin foil, Blu-tack and plant sap. Or a taste reminiscent of those smells at least. It was decidedly horrible and quite the opposite of Alice's lovely shrinking drink.
He spat, repeatedly, onto the floor or whatever lay beneath him.
Scarecrow rolled his eyes behind his mask at the reaction. He wasn't actually going to inject it down the man's throat. Not because he cared about Jonathan's little lover in any emotional sense but because the body tended to expel any reasonable dose of his fear toxin from the stomach before it could be absorbed into the bloodstream.
Once he had mostly ridded himself of that awful flavour, Jervis supposed in one way it was good it tasted so disgusting. He was beginning to develop a fetish for being scared witless after Jonathan and Scarecrow had terrorised him so often during sex that his mind was now conditioned to associate the two. It wouldn't do to get addicted to his fear toxin as well.
"What are you going to do with me?" The Mad Hatter enquired tensely, trying to intimidate with a glare in spite of the blindfold over his eyes.
All Scarecrow gave was a throaty chuckle.
Behind the silk, cornflower blue eyes rolled "Oh of course. The first stage of torture; tell them they will be tortured but not how." The human mind would always imagine the worst. "Really now. Are you too lazy to frighten me yourself tonight Jonath-"
"Scarecrow."
"-Scarecrow..." They weren't even properly separated personalities but still insisted on being properly recognised and treated as different. He could appreciate however that at times, the name Jervis Tetch displeased him because it reminded him he was a real person. ""Open your mouth a little wider when you speak, and always say, "Your Majesty."" Shall I also call you Master tonight Scarecrow?" The Mad Hatter grinned deviously, moving his aching limbs about the best he could.
"Don't be so insolent little Bunny..." Despite professing not to like him, the sadistic personality still had his own pet name for their shared toy. Jervis scared as easily as a rabbit at times and would copulate like one too given the chance.
Right now, the restrained blonde felt a shiver travel up through his body as cool, spindly fingers trailed lazily up his outer thigh, claw-like nails leaving pale lines in his slightly tanned skin. It appeared he was naked after all. He supposed from the other's perspective then he must look quite a sight spread upon a cross like this, if you had a kink for such a thing, which it appeared the anti-Christian southerner did.
Indeed, the Mad Hatter did make a very appealing display like that. The trousers for this particular costume were far too tight for such times as these the torturer felt. Crime had, in one way, done the ex-neurologist some good; he was a lot leaner now and showing off some very appealing, if scrawny muscle that Scarecrow just had to stroke with his nails. All those inedible Arkham meals and chases by the Bat had their positives.
Running his hand up to grip the fetching collar of rope Jervis wore, Scarecrow pulled their faces close. "Are you willing to scream for me tonight?" Now he actually sounded a little excited for once.
Pleasure or terror? That was the question. "I don't suppose I have much choice in the matter. "Either you or your head must be off, and that in about half no time! Make your choice!"" The Mad Hatter sighed in defeat.
"Giving in so easily? I don't get to hear you beg?" That almost sounded like cooing with disappointment. He loved the part where they begged and he didn't listen.
"Oh very well..." Jervis muttered, acquiescing. ""Oh, a song, please, if the Mock Turtle would be so kind."" He kept his delight to a small smirk.
Another blasted quote! "Beg properly! Beg for your life!" This was the problem when they got too accustomed to you.
They both knew that no one was getting killed tonight, that wasn't Scarecrow's style when torture and terrorising were possible. But Jervis knew how to play the game, ""Please your majesty," said the Knave, "I didn't write it, and they-""
He was cut off as a fist of claws raked across his face with all the force of a punch.
"Quiet..." Scarecrow hissed menacingly. He probably preferred the mad man on medication than like this. "I tire of you..." Now he stalked away.
The sharp blow had pulled on Jervis' blindfold enough that he could glimpse the back of his fellow rogue walking away across the room. They appeared to be in the church basement but not the laboratory. "No farewell gift?" He really should learn to shut up but being mad, sensible things like that just didn't happen with the blonde.
Pausing, the one leaving turned back.
The one uncovered blue eye of Jervis met Scarecrow's shadowed ones beneath the brim of his hat through the holes cut into the burlap.
"How about your death?" A sadistic grin showed through the loosely sewn-up tear in the mask that served as a mouth.
Even with only that small bit of eye to express himself, Jervis conveyed a look that didn't believe one word of that.
The grin faded to an ugly sneer. "...Fine."
Scarecrow stalked back closer and the crucified rogue noticed a rather pleasing bulge in those tight, black trousers. Soon they were face-to-face again and trying to glare the other one into submission despite the various fabrics around their eyes. And here the Mad Hatter had been such a meek, terrified thing when first thrust into roguery by bad circumstances. Now he had an insanity to rival The Joker's and a reckless lack of fear to match. So Scarecrow wanted to break him and also prove who was really better at manipulating minds. It was a fierce battle of dominance between them, the kind that often sparked fiery romance on the side, for the God of Fear to prove humans could be controlled by terror alone and best the hatted demon that frankly cheated in his own form of manipulation. It was nature versus technology; a fight to prove which really enslaved human minds most perfectly. Scarecrow refused to concede that the Mad Hatter was better at controlling feeble human minds when he then put said power to such childish and fanciful uses. He refused to accept the fact he knew; his lover was better at their shared scientific pursuit. So that resentment and inferiority carried over into the personal love-life as all these sadistic moments of revenge, generally perpetrated by the crueller personality. Not that Jervis really cared; he was fine top or bottom, sadist or masochist. Deep down, he had a feeling what all these little sex tantrums were about.
If they could occasionally get past the petty competition however, when combined, in crime or body, the two rogues produced something marvellous. A united dominance over the will of every human that really was akin to that of a god.
Scarecrow held the side of the Mad Hatter's face in a cruel caress as he whispered huskily. "An opportunity."
"Mm...?" Tilting his head forward, Jervis could eye up his lover and torturer better.
All that was put a stop to when the blindfold was pulled back up and tightened. "To further my research with a new perspective; I've never tried using fear toxin on anyone blindfolded before." He chuckled to have dashed so many hopes in but a moment. Despite the vision-limiting quality of his mask's eyeholes, Scarecrow had taken note of how the hopeful victim's hips had pushed forward towards him upon his approach with a twitching half-erection.
Jervis now sighed, his hips relaxing. So much for any kind of fun tonight...
Scarecrow's lower face crashed into his all of a sudden with a rough kiss. It was all teeth and bruising force with his overbite and the mask in the way but even just the feel of burlap against his skin excited Jervis now. Another one of those fetishes he was sure had been deliberately trained into him.
The kiss may have been just a cover for the syringe of toxin being emptied into his arm but frankly, the Mad Hatter didn't care. Anything was worth it after this evening.
Pulling back, making sure his mask hadn't been torn between both fierce sets of lips, Scarecrow was almost disappointed to put this situation to such a use. The fuckable, little blonde had looked ever so good strung up like that for him.
But, as he settled back into a chair with paper to make his notes on, he supposed he'd derive greater pleasure in the long term from furthering the research of fear than one night of pleasure, no matter how ineffably fantastic doing it like that would be.
Jervis was the perfect subject for this particular experiment; not only was he the test subject Jonathan had the most detailed notes on already to act as a control but his hallucinations were incredibly vivid. Would they still manifest even without sight?
Whilst awaiting the kick-in of the drug, the doctor mused on whether blind people would hallucinate sounds and textures they feared rather than sights.
But then the quiet, forced chuckles began snapping Jonathan back to reality. This was how Jervis' experiences normally began as his mind forced him to face reality, replayed over all his distressing past moments and showed him how his life really was when the Wonderland delusions fell away.
Soon the Mad Hatter's laughter had crescendoed, turning to sheer delight and insanity. This was how he always reacted. Though he cried too, from sadness or just the intensity of his laughing.
Such a strange test subject... Jonathan supposed that might be why he was so fascinated with Jervis, because his deluded madness offered him a protection from any fear. There was no doubt that was a useful thing; it particularly had been that one time... But one day, if he did manage to break through the defence of self-mockery and fantasy, then all minds could be conquered by fear. It would be proof! (The Joker's mind didn't count. That thing was an incomprehensible monstrosity that science should stay as far away from as possible.)
"Same as usual it seems..." But maybe that was just Jervis.
Whilst he waited for the maniacal laughter to die, the Master of Fear sat and thought where to get other subjects to blindfold and test upon.
~#~
While waiting for Jervis to come around on the wooden cross earlier, Jonathan's phone had been receiving some texts. Part of the deal that had provided him with an untraceable phone already full of very useful contacts was that he always answered any communication its gifter, The Riddler, made with him.
Are you currently safe and unscathed Jonathan? xxx E
Yes. J
Riddle me this: A whole created by two halves. I multiply when I divide. x
The Riddler was forever making him jump through stupid hoops before they got to the point. But the deal with the phone meant he had to respond and sate just a little of Edward's endless desire for attention.
A zygote/embryo.
Of course. That was pathetically easy. Now, are you free three nights from now, the 20th? I have a job for you. A delivery of freshly minted dollars will be stopping over in Gotham that night. I have plans to take rightful possession of them that involve you. Your share, 40%. Interested?
40%? That was more than The Riddler normally offered on these joint jobs...
Why me not henchmonkeys? What's the risk?
If you're too stupid to work something that simple out maybe I picked the wrong person. No risk, as long as you have sufficient fear gas and follow my plan. I'll pay for any chemicals you need but I imagine by now you've made enough.
He had. And that was the reason Jonathan was now lacking on funds. The whole point of the raid on that club tonight was more about money than fear. Maybe it didn't matter that Jervis had ruined his plans after all.
Full details.
A few minutes later, The Riddler sent back a text containing everything he needed to know. 2 million dollars was worth it, and the plan was good. He saw now why he was better than a bunch of goons though the precise timing they needed to execute meant there were some risks. Considering they were two of the most brilliant minds in Gotham though they both doubted either would slip up.
After a short text back to say he was making note of that, Jonathan sat and wrote out the plan for a while.
It was during this time that Jervis awoke and began talking aloud without getting any replies. Jonathan was too busy concentrating on getting the texted plan down so he could then delete the text message for safety purposes. He sent a final text saying Edward could do the same now before Jervis' speech became too annoying to resist setting Scarecrow on him. Besides, with all that money coming his way soon he no longer needed to go out tonight.
He could play tonight instead!
Now that the fear experiment was done, and Jervis would be doing nothing but whimpering morosely to himself the White Knight's song for a while since his laughter had died, he returned to the phone and Jonathan found a bunch of texts waiting for him. "Attention-seeking..." He muttered the rest of the invective.
You hardly need to delete it. It was I who made these phones untraceable you know.
Jonathan? xxx
Answer me!
Are you busy with something?
You have to answer me!
...I think I can hear the screams from here. What are you doing? ;)
Before any more missives came through, Jonathan finally got the chance to reply.
Crucifying Jervis.
Since The Riddler was practically never apart from his beloved tech, Jonathan assumed the tardiness of the reply was from something else, an inability to respond to a reply like that.
...TMI.
Jonathan let out a bark of laughter and decided he might as well torture Edward the best he could through a phone screen tonight as well.
What's this? A question The Mighty Riddler didn't want answered?
A few moments later a reply came with a rather elaborate ASCII middle finger.
Still jealous I shag with the little blonde and not you?
Since Edward was always flirting with him, reminding The Riddler of that fact always seemed to shut him up. Everyone in Arkham knew, particularly the puzzle-obsessive though because he always sat with them at recreation and meal times or ended up across from them in the cell allocation. Jonathan had no idea how he had attracted two obsessed, camp man-children to be his best friends but somehow he had ended up only sleeping with one of them. Edward Nygma loved himself too much to ever let anyone else do it. He was so convinced of his own perfection that no one else ever seemed worthy of his love and attention but himself. Jonathan didn't want to know how that manifested itself as any form of sex life but it didn't seem to stop the ginger flirting with his gay best friends. Maybe he just didn't want to be left out.
At the place where you walk on red diamonds but cannot pick them up, come to the Constant divided amongst Latvia tomorrow at the day's end.
Ruby street, number 149 roughly, depending on the population figures you used. That man really needed to find a better use for his time and brain...
That terminated the communication between them tonight. Edward probably was jealous but until he manage to create or find a cloning machine, he would probably remain a virgin for life.
Since Jervis was boringly mute right now, but still tormented by his own mind, Jonathan cast his gaze around for something else.
Jervis' clothes, neatly folded in a pile.
And the bouquet on top.
Why had he brought that? Did he really expect the God of Fear to appreciate flowers? Maybe the Mad Hatter did sometimes get confused whether he was the March Hare or his Alice but treating him like a girl was unacceptable and he deserved the fear toxin he had received tonight. He knew not to treat Jonathan like a girlfriend, or any kind of romantic lover, especially after that incident with the blonde hair dye...
Thinking there might be some use for part of those flowers in his experiments, or maybe he would encounter an anthophobe in the next few days, the doctor begrudgingly got up to find somewhere to put them.
Strange bouquet... "I guess it wouldn't be any surprise if he did flower arranging..." There were only 6 flowers and they were hardly matched by colour nor species. He had even avoided the cliché of roses, despite their prominence in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. Maybe he had whimsically pulled them up from someone's garden on the way or out of a grave-side tribute.
He was going to shove them in a chemical beaker of water but in the back of his mind, Jonathan's childhood niggled.
"Damn her..." Quite why his great-grandmother had seen fit to teach him the Victorian language of flowers he'd never know but his lessons came to mind now instinctively and unwanted.
It was so stupid, that Scarecrow, the terror of all Gotham, knew what all the different kinds of flowers and their colours meant. Jervis had thought it sweet when it had been mentioned to him during pillow-talk one night, when he had bargained one of his own embarrassing secrets for one of Jonathan's.
That had been about a year ago...
There was no way that mentally unstable fantasiser would have remembered all this time. Not unless...
Inspecting the bouquet more closely, Jonathan found it came apart into three pairs each tied with string.
One pair were orchids, pale cream and beige. Refined beauty they meant but the knowledgeable doctor had a sneaking suspicion Jervis had been referring to the less dignified Greek meaning of their names.
The next pair were mismatched flowers. One a carnation, purpley-blue. Mauve would mean dreams of fantasy while purple whimsicality, capriciousness. Either could apply to Jervis. The other a hydrangea; frigidness and heartlessness or more positively, gratitude for being understood.
Finally something which appeared the least ambiguous. A single stem of straw, Scarecrow's he supposed, but straw also represented unity. That was tied with a sunflower; pure and lofty thoughts. The brown centre surrounded by gold reminded him of Jervis' sunny, smiling face though.
"...Shit."
Worst of all, more than how perfect all the flower pairs were, there was something extra tied to the last twosome. A ring, which had been holding all three couples together, that now hung loosely on the string around the straw and sunflower. Black metal shaped like a noose. A little tag was attached to its end of its metal tail.
Wear me
Exasperation and bemusement duelled inside of Jonathan when he read that and truthfully, he wasn't sure which won.
All this effort... All this ludicrous sentiment that was so... so... Jervis.
"I think, Scarecrow, we were a little harsh on him..."
"It's a bit late now Johnny."
Jonathan sighed and took the ring, doing as its tag said. "I know..." He found a nice, clean beaker of water for the thoughtful flowers. "We'll get him down now," Scarecrow griped that was a waste of his wonderful display, "and apologise in the morning, over that cup of tea he wanted..."
Considering how wonderfully they had ruined each other's plans for the evening, it was the least they could do.
If you are curious about the meanings of flowers, Wikipedia has a page on it called "language of flowers".