so here...we...go!!!1Disclaimer: All the Batman characters belong to DC comics. 2
Note: this story is based entirely on Heath's Joker
R.I.P and God bless one of the world's finest actors. 3X-X-X4
Life's just a Circus: Prologue5
What is an addiction exactly? For some, it can be candy or cigarettes, for others it can be sex, drugs, rock and roll, video games, or even beautiful movie stars who just refuse to stay out of our thoughts. For me, an addiction went from a blood-stained Happy Valentine’s Day card to this fierce, uncontrollable lust that threatened like a wild animal to tear me limb from limb. There wasn’t a day that didn’t pass me by when I didn’t see him on the news, terrorizing the city with his dynamite and gunpowder, smacking his crimson lips together as he made all kinds of threats to the people of Gotham and prattled on about how their pathetic little lives constantly revolved around a despicable thing called “order.” You see, according to the Joker life was like a board game, only there were no rules and in order for one to live happily there was no need for police, the law, the court, or any other kind of necessary punishment. Chaos was what the Joker thrived on; it was insanity that he craved like a vampire; it coursed through his veins like motor oil, giving him a high that no drugs on earth could ever offer—not even Dr. Jonathan Crane’s. This thing called insanity frightened people, it was the stuff glamorized in movies like ‘The Shining’ when Jack tried to axe down the bathroom door. This was why the mentally ill were locked up in prisons and psychiatric wards, their brains fried like cooked veggies, glassy eyes staring ahead like a dead bird’s, saliva dripping from their mouths. The Joker was never going to let that happen to him…oh no, no, no! He had way too much to live for…and besides, what gave someone the right to make rules anyway? The highest entity was God, but how could people know if He even existed—what if Heaven was just one big joke? 6
Religion meant less than nothing to the Joker. He cared as much about church and love as a little kid would a sac of marbles, tossing them about like he did 100 dollar bills. This stupid, glitzy, multi-hued, celebrity-filled and silicon-breasted fake life of mine crumbled to dust the instant Joker chose me. He told me reality was just like Disney Land and High School Music—a cheap marketing ploy that brainwashed us normal folk into being happy and adopting what was dubbed ‘the norm.’ 7
One day, when I played a little poker with Harley Quinn, he yanked me out of my chair and kissed me on the lips. It was a kiss full of raw, sizzling passion and heat; I could almost feel the electricity crackling between us as he ravaged my mouth, rubbing his bumped-up scars against my cheek. The feel of those red, delicious, slippery wet lips gave me Goosebumps, arousing me in a way I couldn’t explain. At eighteen I still looked and acted like a shy little girl, being intimate with a grown man already made me so vulnerable, but making out with the clown prince of crime…well…it was pretty tasty to say the least! After all, the Joker knew I was a sucker for his charms, especially when he was all mean and controlling, slamming me up against the wall as he fucked me hard from behind, making me scream in pleasure like a wildcat in heat. Sorry *off topic* but he was my everything, yanno? Some people have their puppy dogs and lovers to keep them company, but I just chose to cuddle with the most dangerous man in Gotham City, even if he *did* beat me up on a regular basis (erm, make that me and Harley). 8
The addiction was taking over, shattering everything I once valued and believed in, drowning me in its thick, honey-sweet spell. I was like Alice falling down the rabbit hole, only I opened my mouth to scream and nothing came out—it was all whip cream clouds, rose petals, puppy fur and my heart that was burning like a carousel on fire. The Joker wanted to see how much I could take, how far he could push me before madness was let off the leash like a rabid dog, all teeth and claws, ready to kill. 9
Sometimes, I thought Mister J wanted to feel love but he couldn’t, it was a feeling he’d buried deep inside himself and could never get back, no matter what. You can’t get attached to people who don’t love, but my silly schoolgirl fantasy had gotten the best of me, and like a deer caught in headlights I was unable to look away. He haunted my dreams, caressed me in my sleep, wandered into my thoughts during the day and said these dirty, brilliant things to me, his voice slick as tar. The Joker wanted me, Angie Maroni; to steer away from her mob daddy’s lifestyle and come trotting over to him like an obedient and well-trained dog. He wanted to claim me as his own, treat me like his furniture so he could put his feet up on my back, fuck me whenever he needed to release some stress or throw dinner plates at my head if he was having a bad day. All these things he wanted, and I happily, no—blissfully—gave in.10
No boy had ever made me feel so wanted, sexy, and dangerous. The Joker was the only man I ever wanted to worship, the only man I wanted to swoon over, melt into a puddle whenever he pulled me close into the bedroom and muttered something in that deep, husky voice of his. 11
It wasn’t love or money or anything like that at all; it was just making love to the devil that gave me that adrenaline rush. He was the Fast and I was the Furious, the two of us forever playing a game of Hide-and-Go-seek, his kisses like razor blades pricking my skin. We had fun while other couples watched boring chick flicks, went out to lame restaurants and gave each other dinky little flowers, chocolates, cards, or whatever else normal lovers did. I wasn’t living in my world anymore; I now belonged to Mister J and lived in his, and in return he treated me like his spoiled little princess.12
Oh sure, Harley was jealous but she’d get over it. She had already hogged the Joker long enough before I came along, and now it was my turn to have him. I knew that he secretly found me *way* more entertaining and fun to shag than Harley, but it wasn’t like I’d ever tell her that. You didn’t want to see his little harlequin mad…she got feisty as a cat on a hot tin roof, shrieking all kinds of obscenities and threatening to cream me in the face with a fresh, scalding hot apple pie she had just baked or whatever. Let’s just say I learned to keep my distance, but the Joker would always calm Harley down with a kiss or hard slap to her leather-clad bottom. He had never slapped me before, but the thought of him doing it made me wet *down there* but I wouldn’t dare give him even a hint that I liked it…at least, not yet.13
X-X-X14
Inkheart: well, how was that so far?15
Joker: *rubs hands together* well-ah things are started to get interesting...16
Inkheart: Don't worry Mister J *flashes him a seductive look* I'll be writing about you and Angie having animalistic sex together in no time. Just be *patient*.17
Joker: How can I be patient, little girl?!? I have places to go, people to kill, buildings to blow up...chaos won't destroy this city itself yanno! I *am* a very busy criminal mastermind. 18
Inkheart: Yes, yes, I know you have lots to do, but what about me? You should be
that I'm writing this totally awesome fanfic about my favorite villain!19Joker: *smirks darkly* Ah, well, I s'pose I *am* somewhat of a celebrity now...*slicks back hair* and a devilishly handsome one at that.20
Inkheart: No arguement there. Can't wait to write the first chapter of Life is just a Circus *giggles*21
Joker: You better do it soon *whips out knife* or I just might have to put a smile on that face.22
Inkheart: *hides* I'm on it, Mistah J...23
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