Team Anarchy - Round 9 - Fanfic: "The Deepest Cut"
Title: The Deepest Cut
Author: Jokerluv
Prompt: Carve your name into my arm. --Every Me and Every You (Placebo)
Word Count: 574
Disclaimer: I do not own Joker or Batman
Rating: R
Warnings: Hint of Slash and Violence
Summary: This one shot describes what happens when the Joker is alone
Alone. Abandoned and alone. That’s how he felt. Listening to the rain pound on the flimsy roof overhead, watching slivers of it come through the gaping hole, just like the one in his heart. He became fixated on how the streetlight made it sparkle and then fell victim to the filthy ground below. It reminded him of all the wonderful plans they made and how in an instant they changed to nothing but soiled lies.
He sighed, remembering the past and all the good times they shared. A small grin crossed his maimed lips, but nothing seemed to last for very long. It always came back to him and as the smile faded, his thoughts became a looping tape playing the same song, him and his empty promises.
The angry sound of thunder shook the very foundation of the old warehouse, but he remained still, as his street of dreams continued down an alley of hot hate sex. He closed his eyes as he could still smell his intoxicating scent. The feel of his body, firm and muscular, as he slams him against the brick wall. His kiss is rough and demanding, yet his lips soft to the touch. Those masterful hands desperately fierce as he whips him around. The feel of the cement tearing apart his scarred face as the blades of his Kevlar suit dig lusciously into the small of his back. Frantic fingers pull at his pants and finally the moans of sheer pleasure screaming in the night as the first violent thrust is felt.
Opening his black eyes, a lonely tear rolls down his clean, yet grimy face. The past is exactly where it needs to be, the past, but yet he can’t forget his paramour. His words were crystal clear, yet his face said so much more. He knew he didn’t mean it, but the feeling of shame was too much for him to take. No amount of words would ever convince him otherwise, his mind was made up, and as he glanced down upon his lover soaked in semen and acidic rain, he took one last long look, and then ran off into the night.
Enough was enough. It was time to end the absurdity. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his trusty friend, and as he pressed the button, the blade jutted out with a high pitch click. The sound was music to his ears. Twirling the silvery instrument, a glimmer of hope danced in his misty eyes, as he saw the answer to all the pain he felt inside. Visions of the two frolicking in their own private waltz skipped in his head as he rolled up his sleeve. While thinking of his lover and him cavorting in the most cruelest of battles, he took the sharp blade to his arm, and hissed in delicious pain, as he dug deep in his skin. His tongue gently caressed the bumpy flesh, while thoughts of their epic wars accompanied his carving. His eyes rolled back in his head as he felt the blows to his body and as his arm quickly coated in crimson red, he continued his endless pursuit to happiness. Several minutes went by before he was finished, and as he swiped the blood away, he admired his work. Skimming his thin digits over the coarse letters, his lips turned slightly upward, as he was forever branded by his lover, the Batman.
Author: Jokerluv
Prompt: Carve your name into my arm. --Every Me and Every You (Placebo)
Word Count: 574
Disclaimer: I do not own Joker or Batman
Rating: R
Warnings: Hint of Slash and Violence
Summary: This one shot describes what happens when the Joker is alone
Alone. Abandoned and alone. That’s how he felt. Listening to the rain pound on the flimsy roof overhead, watching slivers of it come through the gaping hole, just like the one in his heart. He became fixated on how the streetlight made it sparkle and then fell victim to the filthy ground below. It reminded him of all the wonderful plans they made and how in an instant they changed to nothing but soiled lies.
He sighed, remembering the past and all the good times they shared. A small grin crossed his maimed lips, but nothing seemed to last for very long. It always came back to him and as the smile faded, his thoughts became a looping tape playing the same song, him and his empty promises.
The angry sound of thunder shook the very foundation of the old warehouse, but he remained still, as his street of dreams continued down an alley of hot hate sex. He closed his eyes as he could still smell his intoxicating scent. The feel of his body, firm and muscular, as he slams him against the brick wall. His kiss is rough and demanding, yet his lips soft to the touch. Those masterful hands desperately fierce as he whips him around. The feel of the cement tearing apart his scarred face as the blades of his Kevlar suit dig lusciously into the small of his back. Frantic fingers pull at his pants and finally the moans of sheer pleasure screaming in the night as the first violent thrust is felt.
Opening his black eyes, a lonely tear rolls down his clean, yet grimy face. The past is exactly where it needs to be, the past, but yet he can’t forget his paramour. His words were crystal clear, yet his face said so much more. He knew he didn’t mean it, but the feeling of shame was too much for him to take. No amount of words would ever convince him otherwise, his mind was made up, and as he glanced down upon his lover soaked in semen and acidic rain, he took one last long look, and then ran off into the night.
Enough was enough. It was time to end the absurdity. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his trusty friend, and as he pressed the button, the blade jutted out with a high pitch click. The sound was music to his ears. Twirling the silvery instrument, a glimmer of hope danced in his misty eyes, as he saw the answer to all the pain he felt inside. Visions of the two frolicking in their own private waltz skipped in his head as he rolled up his sleeve. While thinking of his lover and him cavorting in the most cruelest of battles, he took the sharp blade to his arm, and hissed in delicious pain, as he dug deep in his skin. His tongue gently caressed the bumpy flesh, while thoughts of their epic wars accompanied his carving. His eyes rolled back in his head as he felt the blows to his body and as his arm quickly coated in crimson red, he continued his endless pursuit to happiness. Several minutes went by before he was finished, and as he swiped the blood away, he admired his work. Skimming his thin digits over the coarse letters, his lips turned slightly upward, as he was forever branded by his lover, the Batman.