Team Anarchy - Round 7 - Fiction (Insane Love Series)
Title: Insane Love - part three - unnatural while being completely natural...
Author: melissa_ivory
Prompt: "Chance"
Word count: 1071
Disclaimer: i do not own the Batman series, nor any other series from DC Comic, and am not making a cent off of this fiction.
Rating: M
Warnings: Anal, D/S, Language, M/M, S&M, Violence.
Author’s Note: -Joker's POV.- love at it’s darkest, and seemingly without love at all. this is a tale of rough sex, hard facts, and grappling with strange emotions. Nolanverse.
unnatural while being completely natural...
i am a captive of chance. in this place i am restrained, living a life of solid moments in which i cannot understand true meanings. here i lie, in my makeshift womb. living a life i wish would end. but it cannot, for i captive of more than just chance. i am a captive of the world's twisted sense of justice, and in that, i am struggling to break free. but for now, this is a place in which i must exist, if only to keep myself moving. if only i could destroy this place, make my life meaningful once again. i wish only that, and yet so much more. nothing would do me better than death, and if not death, eternal damnation instead.
death is a natural thing, right? and yet death seems so unnatural while being completely natural. nothing like how we treat life: something you must wear until its end, tattered and crippled, hurt and in despair. that is what i see happening. too many people taking advantage of that little trick of life. we begin to die from the moment of conception, it just progresses. we grow, and like plants, we die. maybe we’re reborn again, like some plants: trees, flowers, cactus, weeds. and yet, maybe we live just once. maybe some people, who say they remember a past life, are just wishing that it were true so badly that to them it is reality, not fantasy. and then, you think, if there are people who lose their ability to distinguish reality from fantasy, then is belief in self-created ideas the beginning of that very insanity?
angst is an emotion i have become well acquainted with over the years. it was so long ago i was a captive of my own insanity. until i found masochism to be my outlet of restraint. and then i found i enjoyed sharing the pain, and my sadistic side flourished. and in sharing myself with people, i gained back some of my sanity, all the while telling people life is short if you let it pass you by. i don’t remember what happened to all those people i used to ‘help’, but i do know that are indefinitely where they want to be. maybe i should join them. freedom… death… they are the same thing. maybe i should become one with them, turn my eyes from this world at last and join the absolute end. finish my world with a proud moment of my own demise. this is the end. this is my death. i have made my choice. i will…
but then i think of the Bat, i think of him and his cock, and all the feelings that gives me, and i know i cannot go just yet. i should never compromise that lovely, yet strange relationship i have with him. i notice quickly, however, how he keeps visiting at night, standing outside in a place i can clearly see him, possibly waiting for me to break out of this shell and come back into his bone-crushing embrace. and i don't want to disappoint him, but doesn't he see how they have me dumbed down by so much shit that i can't even think straight, that i can't even think straight, that i can't even begin to contemplate how, how, how to get out of this hell-hole. so i dream, i dream, i dream...
the fresh air is relaxing to my lungs, my mind, my heart, my soul, me. i walk, on the road of my destination. nature all around me. engulfing, the corpses of the trees reach out to me, yet i eagerly await their touches caresses movement. the simple care they give as they touch me caress me move with me. and these branches are like fingers. the corpse come to life, immortalising me into them, running their fingers across my skin. they move me, making love to me. these corpses whisper adoration, praise, love, all things to my sensitive mind. these things i have wanted for so long. and they mean their words, they mean the touches. my emotions are overwhelmed as they take me over completely, taking me into their world. the long slender fingers take me into their entity, a beautiful mass of light and sound that i cannot see nor hear with my senses, but with my emotions. the air is thick, i feel it covering, and as i leave, it returns with me, a taste of spice and sweetness. and i am moving on, my moment shared, my soul flying, my soul flying like a bat...
i've got to get out of this place, out of this place, or what little piece of sanity i have will be gone. to pass the time, since sleeping and dreaming are now out of the picture, i pace. door to wall, wall to door, door to wall, again and again. i hear a tapping on my door, and cannot help but tap right back. a voice tells me to get under the bed, and in my state, i am inclined to obey. shortly after jamming my body under the metal frame, the door is blasted into the room, the smell of gun power heavy in the air. standing where the door once was is my new therapist, Harleen Qunizel, a smug look on her face. she's been captivated with me for some time, having me tell her all about my life and hanging on my every word. i've never told her the truth, but once these drugs they gave me started to mess with my head, i had to stop seeing her. that was, i think, a week ago. maybe she, in her new-found insanity, decided she wanted more than just my words. she practically drags me behind her, taking me out of the hospital and away from the truly insane, the doctors, who have corrupted my fragile sanity. she tells me sweetly of her devotion, and how, as i suspected, suspected, she claims to love me. i don't know, nor care, where she is taking me, but i'm rather inclined to let her have my body, since it will be so easy to imagine the Bat beneath me, quivering out my name.
chance have it, i catch a glimpse of the Bat's shadow up in the sky. but for now i will hide away, gaining my head before going out and living once again.
-----------------------------------------------
i know some of it doesn't make sense, but that's the point. sorry. drugs can do that to you when you don't need them. i know from experience.
Author: melissa_ivory
Prompt: "Chance"
Word count: 1071
Disclaimer: i do not own the Batman series, nor any other series from DC Comic, and am not making a cent off of this fiction.
Rating: M
Warnings: Anal, D/S, Language, M/M, S&M, Violence.
Author’s Note: -Joker's POV.- love at it’s darkest, and seemingly without love at all. this is a tale of rough sex, hard facts, and grappling with strange emotions. Nolanverse.
unnatural while being completely natural...
i am a captive of chance. in this place i am restrained, living a life of solid moments in which i cannot understand true meanings. here i lie, in my makeshift womb. living a life i wish would end. but it cannot, for i captive of more than just chance. i am a captive of the world's twisted sense of justice, and in that, i am struggling to break free. but for now, this is a place in which i must exist, if only to keep myself moving. if only i could destroy this place, make my life meaningful once again. i wish only that, and yet so much more. nothing would do me better than death, and if not death, eternal damnation instead.
death is a natural thing, right? and yet death seems so unnatural while being completely natural. nothing like how we treat life: something you must wear until its end, tattered and crippled, hurt and in despair. that is what i see happening. too many people taking advantage of that little trick of life. we begin to die from the moment of conception, it just progresses. we grow, and like plants, we die. maybe we’re reborn again, like some plants: trees, flowers, cactus, weeds. and yet, maybe we live just once. maybe some people, who say they remember a past life, are just wishing that it were true so badly that to them it is reality, not fantasy. and then, you think, if there are people who lose their ability to distinguish reality from fantasy, then is belief in self-created ideas the beginning of that very insanity?
angst is an emotion i have become well acquainted with over the years. it was so long ago i was a captive of my own insanity. until i found masochism to be my outlet of restraint. and then i found i enjoyed sharing the pain, and my sadistic side flourished. and in sharing myself with people, i gained back some of my sanity, all the while telling people life is short if you let it pass you by. i don’t remember what happened to all those people i used to ‘help’, but i do know that are indefinitely where they want to be. maybe i should join them. freedom… death… they are the same thing. maybe i should become one with them, turn my eyes from this world at last and join the absolute end. finish my world with a proud moment of my own demise. this is the end. this is my death. i have made my choice. i will…
but then i think of the Bat, i think of him and his cock, and all the feelings that gives me, and i know i cannot go just yet. i should never compromise that lovely, yet strange relationship i have with him. i notice quickly, however, how he keeps visiting at night, standing outside in a place i can clearly see him, possibly waiting for me to break out of this shell and come back into his bone-crushing embrace. and i don't want to disappoint him, but doesn't he see how they have me dumbed down by so much shit that i can't even think straight, that i can't even think straight, that i can't even begin to contemplate how, how, how to get out of this hell-hole. so i dream, i dream, i dream...
the fresh air is relaxing to my lungs, my mind, my heart, my soul, me. i walk, on the road of my destination. nature all around me. engulfing, the corpses of the trees reach out to me, yet i eagerly await their touches caresses movement. the simple care they give as they touch me caress me move with me. and these branches are like fingers. the corpse come to life, immortalising me into them, running their fingers across my skin. they move me, making love to me. these corpses whisper adoration, praise, love, all things to my sensitive mind. these things i have wanted for so long. and they mean their words, they mean the touches. my emotions are overwhelmed as they take me over completely, taking me into their world. the long slender fingers take me into their entity, a beautiful mass of light and sound that i cannot see nor hear with my senses, but with my emotions. the air is thick, i feel it covering, and as i leave, it returns with me, a taste of spice and sweetness. and i am moving on, my moment shared, my soul flying, my soul flying like a bat...
i've got to get out of this place, out of this place, or what little piece of sanity i have will be gone. to pass the time, since sleeping and dreaming are now out of the picture, i pace. door to wall, wall to door, door to wall, again and again. i hear a tapping on my door, and cannot help but tap right back. a voice tells me to get under the bed, and in my state, i am inclined to obey. shortly after jamming my body under the metal frame, the door is blasted into the room, the smell of gun power heavy in the air. standing where the door once was is my new therapist, Harleen Qunizel, a smug look on her face. she's been captivated with me for some time, having me tell her all about my life and hanging on my every word. i've never told her the truth, but once these drugs they gave me started to mess with my head, i had to stop seeing her. that was, i think, a week ago. maybe she, in her new-found insanity, decided she wanted more than just my words. she practically drags me behind her, taking me out of the hospital and away from the truly insane, the doctors, who have corrupted my fragile sanity. she tells me sweetly of her devotion, and how, as i suspected, suspected, she claims to love me. i don't know, nor care, where she is taking me, but i'm rather inclined to let her have my body, since it will be so easy to imagine the Bat beneath me, quivering out my name.
chance have it, i catch a glimpse of the Bat's shadow up in the sky. but for now i will hide away, gaining my head before going out and living once again.
-----------------------------------------------
i know some of it doesn't make sense, but that's the point. sorry. drugs can do that to you when you don't need them. i know from experience.