The Diary of a Dark Lady
Friday, August 31, 2012
Well, there's probably no one left even following my journal, but here goes: I just started this LJ comm.: http://dark-asgardian.livejournal.com/2872.html Don't exactly know where I'm going with this, except to at least _try_ to have a better LJ/tumblr/FB presence than just 5000 pics/.gifs/simple anime/stupid chibi of tom and loki. We are a fledgling group, and open to what said fandom has to offer! let us know what you'd like to see! _heehee_
Friday, May 27, 2011
Um...wow. Okay, that was just like...wow. I don't even know if what
happened in the epi is "real," in that what House did would even work
and I find it odd *no one* even tired it for DM's character prior to
this, BUT !!! Geez, David _nailed_ it! Like I said, I don't even know
if the scenes with him fully made sense, but DM wrapped it all around
his little finger and made it do a dance! ~feels~ woozy ~ In the short
amount of time he had, he made a wonderful performance! =bows=to=DM=
And, by the way, the voice of Darth Vader was in the episode!
Um...yeah - two of the sexiest characters in my life are in the same
episode! I LOVE IT!
a.k.a.The Joker's TaIlor
Monday, December 1, 2008
did i ever say i hate LJ? well, it's true. this is for jokerluv -
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
(link goes to my site)
Saturday, October 11, 2008
I am by no means skilled in Photoshop, but I created these two "pics" for the fun of it.
FANDOM: The Dark Knight (original female character and the Joker)
SUMMARY: Remember my story "Agent of Chaos"? Well, I put together this manippulated pic of Karen and the Joker. So, it's It's a night out for Ms. K. and Mr. J. !
RATING: R - mild nudity
FANDOM: The Dark Knight (original female character and the Joker)
SUMMARY: And this of course is the last chapter of the story! LOL
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
“Agent of Chaos”
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Agent of Chaos 5 of 5
The man in the corner was crying uncontrollably. It was cold in the room, not that that was the main cause of the man’s discomfort. The Joker had his feet propped up, was eating and reading the newspaper.
"SHUT UP!" he screamed at the man. "I’m trying to read this!"
The victim’s sobbing became much more subdued.
The article stated, "Karen Magee, author of various novels, including her latest one, ‘Agent of Chaos,’ has just informed her fans she is suffering from a life-threatening illness. When recently interviewed, she said, ‘I am responding quite well to therapy, but it’s still too soon to see if it will eradicate the illness. Yet, I still have hope.’"
The article went on for a bit, then the reporter asked her, "The last knife in your collection was never auctioned off. Are you planning to try again?"
"No," she said, smiling, "I’m holding onto it for a friend."
He laughed, seeing that was the last thing they were.
It was a bit of a bumpy start, yet she has come so far. She’s increasingly eager for me take her beyond her limits. It has been remarkable fun eliminating what’s left of her virtue!
He fondly recalled how she recently captured one of her foes on her own. It was great sport, watching Karen rip out, one by one, the woman’s dozens of tightly braided cornrows. Then, with her scalp a puffy, pulpy mess, Karen kept gleefully suggesting things to make her scream even more.
He asked the man behind him, while presenting her picture in the paper, "What do you think? "Is she as tempting as the night you raped her?" He made a face after taking a bite of food. "Jeez, these fries are salty! Where’d Sean get them anyway?" He slurped on his diet cola. "Sorry," he said around a mouthful, "but torture always makes me famished. I hope you don’t mind me taking a break."
"I don’t understand." lamented the man on he floor. "You, you’re doing this for her?"
He shrugged. "Me, her, for the Hell of it, whatever." He deliberated on his deeds for a minute. "But it is nice to have someone appreciate your work for a change!"
The man coughed, bringing up blood. "Whatever she’s paying you, I can give you ten times that!"
"Really? Nah, you’re not my type."
Unexpectedly, her ex-boss said, "Oh, yeah. She is the whore, that I know. Fucking bitch flaunts it, then reneges when you get at her. You know about that sick shit she writes? And then she expects others to not know how she likes it. Crazy slut!"
The Joker looked perplexed. "Are you trying to enrage me to kill you faster or bond with me by talking about her like that? ’Cause either way, it’s not working."
It does make me wonder, though, if she’s not a friend...and she’s not foreign, what does the devil...who do I consume, then? It was a banal inquiry into his own motivations, yet one of interest. It was rare, but not unheard of, for him to keep a lover alive, as long as they stayed at a distance, be it emotionally, physically or both. Preferably both. And she was, after all, little more than a slave.At that moment, Sean came through the door.
"I dropped off that package to Ms. Magee liked you said to, boss."
Excellent! What did she say?" During one of his recent terrorist attacks, he’d come across some interesting news. His "present" to her was the unexpected apprehension of her ex-boss, the one who raped her the night she gave him a ride home. The man had moved a few times since then and his present location was unknown. It turned out the man had a brother who ran illegal guns and dealt with an occasional associate of the underworld. The Joker had encountered his whereabouts by sheer accident. That night, he sent Karen the man’s old, grubby, thick glasses as a sign he had the fat, bald fool in his possession now.
I’ll leave intact, for now, any body parts she wishes to amuse herself with.
"She was really happy." said Sean. "She ran around putting this together and said for me to give it to you." After a few seconds, he said, "You know, boss, I am kinda’ surprised you’re keepin’ her around."
"You are?" The Joker was more amused that Sean thought he cared about his opinion.
"Yeah. I mean, normally you either kill or leave ’em."
It was the smallest of revelations, yet significant enough to address. "Are you saying it’s rule of mine?"
"Sean, how many times have I told you I have no rules?"
Getting the hint to let it rest, Sean said, "More times than I want to remember, boss." He retreated to the other side of the room with the sports section.
The Joker took it and opened the cardboard box. Inside was a small case, the color of overcast sky in deep winter. On it was a note, in her handwriting, "I thought you’d be able to hold onto to this one longer. Give me the chance to use it on him as well." He flipped it open, revealing the same silver-dust encrusted knife as before, only as a much smaller version.
He smiled. Lovely, my lady, truly lovely...
Tugging on the knife, it had a string wrapped around it. Out from underneath the case, he retrieved a single, long stemmed, red rose. He literally winced, wondering if she’d lost her mind with the sickeningly-sweet mushiness. That is, until he read the card attached, “Come out, Come out wherever you are!” A scene flashed before him: many roses strewn over her bed, stems, petals, dozens of razor sharp thorns...and pounding his cock fiercely into her agonized, euphoric body. Pure lust shot through him, making his groin sizzle.
With that, he had his answer to her stance in his life. He figured perhaps having a carnal disciple these days might not be such a bad idea after all. She was a servant, but she was his handmaiden...
“Sean, I’ll be leaving shortly.”
“Sure thing, boss.” Sean wisely fled the room upon seeing the knife, having a pretty good idea what it was going to be used for.
Suddenly, the Joker said, very brightly and happily to her ex-boss, “I amend my earlier statement! I am doing this, because, most of all,” He stood, tiny knife in hand and sauntered over to his victim, her enemy, “I like happy endings!”
1) Perity is a play on the word Pyrite aka Fool’s Gold
P.S. I am very happy so many people have enjoyed this story! It’s difficult to post something so profoundly personal and yet my muse would not shut up until I had this in print. I’m glad I could provide a decent Mary Sue that wasn’t so, well, Mary Sue-ish! Thanks again for reading!
Sunday, September 21, 2008
“Agent of Chaos” (4 of ?)
(Okay, here we go with the NC-17 part!)
The next few days played out swimmingly in Karen Magee’s favor. The sales of the book exploded, spurred on by the media attention. She throughly denounced the incident, saying it was not the real Joker, just some stalker imitating him, which is why she was armed. She was quoted as saying, “I had informed the police earlier if he should happen to show up that night, I did not want the highly disturbed young man harmed. This mentally unstable person actually thinks he’s a cross between my character and the Joker. I hope when he is caught, he gets treatment. Yes, the one bookstore was destroyed, but we all know if it had been an authentic Joker threat, ten bookstores would have been demolished for days afterward.” Her assistant, Lakin, confirmed she’d seen the same ‘clone’ in the bookstore a while back.
The white, sheer curtains billowed at the cool breeze coming off the river. He looked around her spacious bedroom, the navy carpet, the white walls, track lighting and sparse furniture. It was a great apartment, more than she could afford, which was not surprising. He stretched in the full, deep chair that was at the foot of the bed. He was practically brimming with morbid joy at how well she’d employed the entire strategy. It was admirable, risky...and unlike her. It made him wonder if she was more sneaky than he first anticipated. Since that was highly improbable, he resolved to find out what made her act so out of character. After some digging, he had his answer, as typical as it was with her.
Her dog padded into the room and jumped on the bed, licking her face as she slept. “Geez, girl! Is your dish empty already?” she sleepily protested. “What time is it anyway?”
“2:35 am.” he said, causing her yelp and bolt upright.
“You!” she panted in shock, “You scared the Hell out of me!”
She then looked at her dog, who had curled up next to her. “Well, there goes the idea animals can sense evil.”
“Evil, am I?” he earnestly inquired.
“What do you think?”
“What about someone who uses crimes to increase their income and popularity?”
“Don’t start with me! You should be happy!”
“Yes, seeing I proved you right! You think those buying my book now care about it? Hell, no! They just want to hear what the crazy chick who gets off to the Joker has to say! You do realize for all they know you are getting money for it! Does that stop them from buying it? Of course not! That would mean they had integrity.”
“You get off to me?” he said, sounding immensely pleased.
She bitterly said, “As I said, you scare the Hell out of me, but it’s a little late to convince you I was lying all this time.”
“Don’t sound so enthused.”
Becoming emotional, she said, “What did you expect? The auction was a perfect opportunity for me. The book sales were not spectacular, if you hadn’t noticed. ‘Agent’ was going to be just like the rest, with only mild success. And then, the Joker walks into my life! I mean, the actual, goddamn sociopath pays me a visit and says he wants me. In exchange, you just might send those to Hell who left me as fucked up as I am. What do I do? I had one chance to this turn around, this whole fucking life of mine, to make it matter, even if it ends badly. Sorry if that included utilizing you as you will eventually do me.” She was choking back tears before she was done.
“I will, will I?”
“Of course!” she snapped angrily. “I’m not an idiot. I knew if I agreed that you’d eventually betray me or something. At least maybe for a short time I’d get some sick fun out of it.”
Coldly and harshly, he growled, “Quite frankly, my dear, you mean nothing to me. For me to betray you as such, I’d have to care you’re alive. But believe me, that is a good thing!” He leaned forward, his voice that familiar, silky whine, “Be glad I have not acknowledged your existence to that level. I should warn you, it is not wise to presume to know me.”
“Do you think I want to?” she retorted. “How you think I feel my choices are Winnie-the-Pooh or Charles Manson on crack!?”
He laughed. “I’m not stuffed with fluff?”
She smiled ruefully. “Yeah, ‘Pooh’ was my ex. All kindness and sweetness, with no passion.”
“And if I remember correctly, the same attention span for loyalty, responsibility and the same capacity for denial.”
She looked moved. “You really did look into me.”
“That’s the trouble with online journals. They’re so public, no matter how good your security is.” He rested his elbows on his knees. “The question now is, since you’ve said yes...” He held out his hands, his face inquisitive.
Her eyes went thoughtful, then she scooted the dog off the bed and crawled towards the edge. He could see her pale body under the wispy, full nightgown she wore. He leaned back and much to his surprise, she went to her knees and reverently laid her head in his lap. He nearly swooned at the physical and symbolic surrender, the thrill filtering through him. Gently, he brushed the hair out of her face, continuously caressing her cheek.
“I have wanted to belong to someone like you all my life, even though I knew it was wrong.” she said, trying not to cry.
“And look where it’s gotten you.” he replied. “For all of your morality, your conscience and good deeds, you will probably die now, from the stress you endured.”
She raised her head, her eyes still down. “So. You know about that as well.”
“You mean the fact you’re seriously ill? Yes, dear, there is little you can hide from me. It simply means it’s time for you to stop living this lie while you still can.”
She slowly laid her head back down. “I got the news from the hospital not long after you first came to me. That’s when I decided to take a chance. Are you mad at me?”
“Mad?” he asked. “Well, I was for a moment, until I seen how crafty you were!” He whispered, “For you, it was brilliant.”
She began lighting rubbing her cheek against the material beneath it. “I’m glad then.”
His cock noticed and was responding quite nicely. “That...is good, keep doing that.” He arched his hips for better contact.
“I am scared, but I want this.” she whispered, the fear plain in her voice.
He knew she meant more than just this act here, tonight. It was also the pact, of sorts, she was entering into with him. “You’re excited, too, right?” He touched her cheek again. “So much so, you’re willing to take the risk.”
“Yes...yes, I am. More than I want to admit.” Her lips began doing a dance along the front crease, the warmth of her breath exciting him even more. “It’s crazy, I know.” she continued, “I remember a time when I was so different, I would have never considered some of the things I am more than contemplating now.”
His voice turning husky, he said, “That is a sign you are maturing, becoming something more than your former, childlike self.”
“Am I a brat now?”
“No, no, no, not ‘childish.’” he corrected, “I said ‘childlike.’” He brought her face up to meet his, loving the astonishment and awe there, as she got a good look at him. “That is, your prior, pitiful innocence and harmful naivety. It is wonderful you have risen above it.”
Her eyes were shining with curiosity and wonder as her gaze flitted over his face. “May I...may I touch you?”
Most simply did not look directly at him and it was rare when someone did not turn away or flinch upon seeing him. He had to admit, it was powerful and inebriating, for her meager requests and sacred reactions to be something akin to worship. He smiled slightly, bringing her hands up to his face. “This is only the world you see before you, unfettered, without comprise, no lies or illusions.” he said, kissing her trembling hands as they gently traced his starkly adorned, devastating features.
“You attempt,” she said, her voice unsteady, “quite convincingly, to show me life in the raw and yet,” she nodded towards him, “I still find beauty in this reality.”
He closed his eyes, tilting his head, finding her words endearing. “You flatter me.” he said, placing her palm over the swelling in his slacks.
She touched him just as she had his face, afraid and uncertain. He placed his hand over hers, increasing the pressure. “Embrace your new self.” he encouraged. “No shame, no regret. You see what that kind of timidity has garnered you.”
She bowed her head and said, “May I serve you?” For her, he knew that was the most liberating request.
“But of course.” he said, then undid his thin, leather belt, followed by the latch on the slacks. The zipper seemed loud in the quiet room. She looked anxious as he tugged down the black silk boxers, taking hold of and stroking his cock. Holding the side of her face, he leaned his lead back, closing his eyes, as the warm wetness of her lips wrapped around his shaft.
He squinted, laying his head to the side at her exceptional work. She was whimpering and she took him in whole, swallowing completely, causing him to tame his spastic response. She pulled up, laving it with cherished attention, apparently liking it as much as he did. Jolts of pleasure and decadence swept through him, enjoying the act and the seeds corrupting yet another soul. The tender skin cooled when she pulled away and swelled eagerly at the swirled, repetitive action. She made a move with her tongue that made his heart cinch and he gripped her hair tightly, making her smile and breathe faster. “I see writing is not your only talent.” he quipped, placing her back onto his cock.
His torture here would to not snap her neck when he came or not slicing up her face half way through. Seemingly reading his mind, she pulled up, her lips full and wet. Looking at him, her eyes were beseeching. “I know what you need. I need it too. Here...” She grappled for his jacket pocket, taking the knife in hand, then cupping his own bare fingers around it. She pulled her hair back, completely away from her face. Curious and more aroused by the second, he allowed her to place the blade at the very tip of her hairline, where no scar would be seen. She became coy, placing her mouth right above his straining length. “Mark me.”
Shock, joy and disbelief resounded through him. He was certain he looked like a giddy kid, taking the back of her head in a firm hold, reveling in her fear and excitement, while slicing the skin long and deep. She screamed, then laughed, and he thought he would come at the mere sight of the redness dripping down her face. He tilted her head, saying in a lilting fashion, “No, no, don’t drip in the eyes just yet.” He suddenly dropped the knife and shoved his dick back in her mouth, slamming it again and again as deep as he could, adoring the spasmodic choking and discomfort she was enduring. Sheer bliss permeated his form at the truth this would not be the last time he would be slathered in her blood as such. “YOU fucking bitch!” he exclaimed, as he filled her mouth full. He came so hard, he held back a scream, certainly not recalling the last time that happened...at least with the other person still alive. She savored the taste, swallowing slowly.
Before he could even speak, she raised up, panting heavily, breathing deeply. “Master, please!” she begged, “Let me touch myself. I need to...come, please.”
Potency swept through him at his newest title from her, even after such a tremendous climax. “Are you on fire, my child?”
“Let’s see.” he said, going to his knees as well. He tugged up her nightgown over her head, revealing her completely. She kept her head down as his hands traversed the soft skin, the full, ample curves and tender domain, watching her blood-wet face intensely the entire time. She trembled even more when he finally placed his hand over her slit and delved his fingers deep, meeting profuse wetness. “Did I cause that?” he teased.
“Yes, please...just...touch me.” she said desperately, arching her hips.
His roughened fingers began sliding over her hard clit and she made erotic sounds that tickled his spine. He held her full, pale breast, nuzzling his face over it, letting his teeth nip it a bit. She
jerked hard, saying, “Please, yes, do that...don’t stop.” It made him twist her nipple hard with his free hand and she laughed, loving the hurt. “Keep doing that ”she warned,”and I’ll come.”
“That easily?” he asked, a little dubious.
“You...pain and pleasure,” she professed, “is all I need.”
“Are you trying to feed my ego?.”
“I didn’t think your ego could get any bigger.”
“Touché.” he said, smiling.
“No lies, compromise or illusions.” she attested, repeating his own words back at him.
“Then let’s get to the truth.” He grabbed her hair tightly. “It is so nice,” he growled, dragging her to her feet, “to have someone avidly listen to your every command.”
She smiled tentatively, her voice strained with fear. “As long as you give me a reason I should obey.”
A hot prickling of outrage took him and backhanded her as hard as he could. She landed on the bed, gasping wildly, smiling amid the suffering. “That was clever, my dear! I didn’t see you were inciting me!” He smiled widely, slowly crawling over her, producing yet another knife. She reared back as he came closer. “Oh no, you don’t have to worry about me creating wounds that can be seen...yet, anyway.”
She tugged at his sleeve. “May I...may I, lay my eyes upon you?”
It took a second for the antiquated phrasing to kick in. “I was getting there, you impatient wench.” he said jokingly and began divesting himself of his clothes.
She stared at him playfully. “I love your tailor.”
“Don’t laugh.” he admonished her. “She has talent!”
Once naked, he practically pounced on her and she giggled. Her hands glided over his arms and torso, her eyes getting bigger by the second. “Jeez...’ she breathed in happy admiration.
“You are pretty damn built!”
“You hadn’t noticed?”
She shook her head in clear appreciation. “I guess not!”
He used his knee to quickly kick her leg apart, causing her to whimper and then did the same with the other leg. “I am thinking,” he said, his tone reflective, “since you so very much wanted to ‘see’ me, I think I will claim the same.” He nuzzled her full bosom, neither one caring his makeup was streaking everywhere. He slid down to her stomach and, much to her shock, even further, to her sex. His finger probed her again, mapping slowly, deliberately. She trembled even more when his eyes followed the path of his finger in and around her moist flesh. She gave a start at the sight of the knife still clenched in his hand. Noticing, he said, “Yes, that’s right, I wouldn’t have it unless I intend to use it.” He fully licked the finger wet with her essence. “But it just might be to your liking.” With that, he sunk his swollen lips onto hers, throughly suckling her intimately.
She nearly screamed, “Yes!”, thrusting her hips upward and he wrapped his arm around her leg for a better hold. The swelled nub under his tongue grew even more firm at his ministrations, teasing her by acquainting himself with the pleats and creases, all soaked in erotic nectar. He loved the tangy sweetness that was flowing freely, evidence she was getting close. Without warning, he slipped the thick, wide knife handle deep inside her, accompanied by his finger. She nearly jumped up at the shock, but he held on tight. “Now, now, my dear!” he coaxed. “If it was good enough for Perity, then I’m sure your own Grinemal will make it just as worthy.”
Slowly, she relaxed, remembering she was the one who wrote that scene, where her characters make love just as they were mating now. Once again, he swirled his tongue over her clit repeatedly, softly fucking her with the knife handle and obviously, she was loath to admit it was making her insane with decadent pleasure. He feasted for a good while, when he noticed his own arousal was building again. Placing the handle all the way inside her, he moved it and his finger wildly, and she moaned loudly at the three-way bliss; his finger, stem and mouth getting her off. He smiled as she made little pleading noises, her breathing coming in short pants. Raising up, he licked his lips fully, then grabbed her and wordlessly flipped her on top of him. Seeing just how strong and spontaneous he was made her stare at him in awe.
He said nothing as he eased her down onto his already straining cock. She tossed her head back and began to ride him and he bit his lip at how fiery hot her cunt was. The searing friction was delightful and he fondled her full breasts, causing a depraved idea to surface. He grappled for the knife and to his delight, she began mounting him harder upon seeing it. “Yes, Master, please! Take me!” she begged shamelessly.
“Shhhhh...” he said, ceasing her movement. Placing her own finger over her clit, he encouraged her to work it, then took hold of her left breast. She was outright shaking, watching him intensely, the anticipation overwhelming. The jagged edge raked along the pinched nipple, and she bit back her yell, the crimson fluid dribbling out. Not pausing, he gashed the other nipple and she screamed and his was cock clinched in tight ripples as she came.
It was too much. He rammed into her rapidly, licking the wounds he’d just inflicted, the salty iron mixing with her other juices still on his lips. Instinctively, his hands came up and closed around her throat, closing off her air. He was certain it caused her renewed excitement, creating residual fluttering around his aching cock. The position was perfect; he could fuck and strangle her, but did not have the leverage to choke her too hard. Wave after exquisite wave of barbaric joy swarmed over him, the debauched ecstacy a constant. Chills followed by pure elation paralyzed him. His already taut balls gave in, making the euphoria consume him and he came convulsively.
Exhausted from the intensity, his tired hands fell away from her neck. He was still reeling when she raised up, his soft cock slipping out of her and she laid down next to him. His eyes were closed, yet he knew she was watching him.
Finally, she said, “That was fun.”
“At least.” he exhaled.
Softly, her hand trailed over his chest. Finally, she said, “So, what happens now? Are you going to kill me and get it over with or does the fact I’m expiring far too soon take some of the fun out of it for you?”
He waved his hand indifferently, an accurate representation of his position on the subject. “Something like that. Hadn’t really thought about it.”
Her voice was skeptical, “Are you really going to take out those bastards for me?”
He snorted. “It’s not such an absolutely wild notion.” He turned on his side to face her, his hand affectionately touching her extremely beautiful blood-stained cheek and chest. “I will need a pastime in between terrorizing Gotham. I like to keep busy, you know.”
She was smiling. “I can see that.”
“It’s going to be different for you,” he warned her, “when you see me in the news and elsewhere, committing such acts. Yet, I doubt your already relaxed decency will be a factor.”
It was obvious this was the first time she really thought about it. Then, her face took on a decidedly sinister look. “I would be proud to say that’s my Master out there, reigning Hell.” she said softly.
“Good! One day, who knows? Maybe I’ll show you a few of my nastier tricks.”
“And then I’ll tell you some of mine. True, I never even tried them, but I would very much like to see them enacted.”
He smiled at her budding bloodlust. “Now you’re talking!”
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Just thought of this tonight - hope you all like it!
Agent of Chaos (3 of ?)
Sean commented it was chilly out. The Joker didn’t feel it under his usual suit, of course, as he and his men slipped in a side entrance of the hotel. He’d been able to pay off just enough security and police to gain access to the establishment at which the auction was being held. Then again, the ones who let them in had no real idea who was paying them a visit. The main event was taking place in a ballroom located on ground level, near the back of the building. The evening was mostly over, the banquet was finishing up and the haggling was well under way. It was just minutes before the knife would be unveiled. Unlike his attack on City Hall, which had them sneaking away at the end, this time he decided to go a different route: quiet in, pandemonium on the way out.
There was less security than he anticipated, which made him rather angry. The less police, he figured, the less of a threat they considered him. Waiting in a storage room, for the all clear to proceed, he thought of how much he was going to enjoy reaffirming Gotham how dire he could be. Also on his list of those he wanted to ghoulishly impress was Ms. Magee, the one who started all of this. If she had simply given or declined what he’d so graciously offered, none of this would have happened. He was going to let everyone know, this is what occurs when you cross the clown.
"Ugh. I can’t believe I just considered that horrid cliché."
"What?" asked Sean, who was hunched down next to him.
He shook his head, seeing he must be irritated. It simply meant to night was needed, to teach her and them a lesson. After he blamed tonight’s events on the novel, the sales of the book would tank, critics will slam it even harder and she will be completely devastated. At that point, he truly didn’t care if she came to him or not. But if she did, it would be a nice way to top off this ‘romantic’ endeavor of his. Either way, he won. The code words sounded over the radio, the signal to advance and his heart slammed repeatedly at the adrenalin rush. "Let’s go make a statement!"
Standing at the doorway of the ballroom, it never ceased to amaze him how blind the world could be, as long as they were allowed to live solely within themselves. Karen was on the far right, talking with a few of the guests. The knife of his dreams was at the front of the room, on stage still locked in its case. Ms. Magee was wearing a long, black dress, highlighting her fair skin. When she turned away, he laughed a little. The back of her black lace shawl held a very colorful masquerade theme. It actually took them a moment to realize he was there, made apparent by the screech of some wench nearby. He looked at her irritated, then told his men surrounded the room. "Hands up! WAY up!" he yelled. "Ladies and gentlemen, I have come to settle a score."
He made his way around, looking at the various items up for bid. He picked up the jester’s cap, the pale rainbow threads sparkling in the lights from the chandeliers. Turning to Karen, he held it up and said, "I must give you credit to make anyone wearing this even remotely scary."
"What do you want?" she blandly asked.
"Me?" he asked. "No dear, this is about what you want." He addressed the crowd, "That’s right, everyone. This ‘literary genius’ here is the one who has brought you to your demise. She challenged me to be here, so here I am!"
"That is not true and you know it!" she snapped back.
He turned, pulled out the knife she would recognize and began to slowly advance on her. "What I do know is that you have tried to make a mockery of me. I made you an offer and you threw it away!" He came closer. "That hurt!" he said, imitating anguish. He continued speaking to the crowd, "My demand is that all of the money raised tonight will be transferred over to me, as well as all proceeds of this book. If it is not done, I will start to blow up bookstores across the city, one by one. Starting with the location at which I had the pleasure of meeting said lady here in just a short while ago. So, I guess your charity of choice tonight is out of luck, which is," he looked around wildly, trying to find out who exactly that was, and once he did, turned to Karen, incredulous. "‘The Smile Train’?! Oh, that is just wrong!"
"Why?" she sneered. "’Cause it’s too late for you?"
His eyes calmly flittered over her face, like an artist judging what was missing from a painting. "Oh...ok, I...I’ve got it, got it figured out. There’s not a enough fear there!" He grabbed her, his hand fisting her hair tightly, the blade pressed to her cheek. She grabbed his lapels in a futile attempt to push him away. He paused to get a really good look at her, her mild scent of citrus, the simple but kind face, long black, straight hair and hauntingly dark eyes. He suddenly had the warped inspiration to take her right here and now, screaming and flailing, on one of the tables.
"Are you really that fucking naive?" she quietly snarled.
As if on cue, a waiter dropped an entire tray of dishes and the Joker turned his head, a big mistake. Using the leverage she had on his jacket, she kneed him in the gut, pain slicing through him. He doubled over, but as soon as he backed up, he laughed, shook it off and came back at her again, only to meet the barrel of a gun. She was staring hard at him, breathing deeply, her aim solid. Fury flooded him and he was ready to take a bullet just to rip her head off. He held up his hand, stopping his cohorts from shooting her. He would not make is easy for her by having one of his men do it for him.
"I know what you came for." she said. Never wavering from her target, she went over, got the sealed, highly polished, deep grey case and threw it at him, which he caught. "Take the damn knife and get out!"
That had been part of his plan and he was glad she anticipated it. "Or what? You’ll shoot me? I doubt that."
"I will kill you." she warned. "As Perity would kill for Grinemal. Give me the chance and I’ll prove it."
He was unsure of the insinuation. There was something in the tone, her inflection, that made him think twice.
A few cops burst in the room, past the barricade his men had created. She yelled at them, "Don’t shoot him! Remember what I told you earlier! Let him go! Let them all go, please!"
He started at the non-sequitur. Of all the outcomes, he hadn’t expected this.
"We can’t do that, ma’am." said one of the officers.
"He’s not armed!" she declared, which was totally untrue; he just hadn’t shot anyone yet.
"Well, his friends are!" the cop reminded her.
"He just wants the knife and he was about to leave." She turned the gun back on him. "GET OUT!" She screamed.
Despite how unsatisfying this scenario was turning out to be, his instincts were telling him it was time to make an exit. "I have half the reason I came." he reminded her, patting the case. "Make that money mine or I’ll show you what book burning really means."
"Whatever. Leave." she retorted.
He winked at her, smiled, then made a circle in the air, indicating to his crew it was time to go. He ran out of the room and proceeded to make the fastest escape he’d ever planned. "Remind me of the reason I have you around." he said to Sean. If anything, the man was good at evading police when behind the wheel.
After making sure they had evaded any law enforcement, he let his fingers trail over the shiny, deep grey case. "Looks like a small coffin, doesn’t it?" he remarked to Sean.
"If you say so, boss."
He pried the lock and flipped it open, revealing half inch indentations in stiff grey velvet, the perfect silhouette for a breath-taking weapon. That is, if there were an object as such actually inside.
"Empty?" he whispered, his eyes desperately searching the box, hoping it would suddenly appear. There was a small cut in the soft material in the upper right corner and he pressed his shaking hand to it, flattening it under his touch. "The fucking box is EMPTY?!" he roared.
He began beating the dashboard with the case until Sean yelled, "Boss, stop it! You’ll deploy the airbag!"
He growled, seething, ready to explode, needing to hurt someone now. Therefore, it was rather bewildering to hear restrained chuckling coming from his left. He glanced at Sean, who was biting his lip, unable to stop giggling.
"Are you laughing?"
Undeterred, Sean said, "Yeah boss, I am."
"Okay, this once, I will ask why before I kill you!"
"Can’t see what she’s doing?"
Rolling his eyes, he said, "Enlighten me."
"She not messin’ with you, she’s teasing you!"
"What’s the difference?"
"Think about it, man, she ain’t stupid! She’s gotta’ be up to somethin’! I don’t think she’d go through so much just to sign her own death warrant. Hell, if she wanted to die, she could’ve picked a bar fight or just jumped in the river. Why piss you off, then wait for you to do it?"
That made sense, but anger was blinding him. "I don’t care! She will regret this!"
"Listen a minute, boss, it just doesn’t seem right. Why’d she say that stuff to the press about you and that little stunt with the cops just now? Hell, if she wanted you dead, all she had to do was hit the floor when they started firing."
He blocked out Sean’s rant and was about the toss the case out the window. He looked closer at the corner that had been ripped. "Wait, wait, wait...that’s not a tear! It’s been sliced!" He gripped the material and tore it away, the joker card behind it falling into his lap. It was the one he’d given to her at their first meeting. Picking it up, it looked like it was smeared with blood, but upon closer inspection, it turned out to be lipstick, in the shape of a bow and arrow.
Just as Perity would reply to Grinemal, she’d accepted his invitation. He screamed with laughter, his head back, eyes squeezed shut, the brittle sound rattling the windows. He picked up the card, cradling it in his hands, staring at it lovingly. "You know, Sean, you just might be right! I think I will wait to see what the lady is up to." He leaned the seat back, titled his head and caressed the side of the card. "Oh, my dear! I think you have been one of the extreme few to have impressed me!"
part five soon...
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
“Agent of Chaos” (part two of ?)
Sitting in the parked car, he was a tad disappointed. Exiting the vehicle, he thought about delving into Karen Magee’s past and it made him nearly long for more of a challenge. It wasn’t so much of how he would break her, but would it be this easy? She seemed mainly held up by the success of her sporadic novels and mundane charity work. He was hoping it would take more than some skilled manipulation, petty revenge and shifting of digital funds to make her his.
Willingly, that is.
Sean had asked why he was doing this. Was the Joker actually tired of sating his virulent carnal appetite with the occasional high class hooker left alive, but scarred, or the gutted streetwalker or his latest victim in general? Truth was, just as now, he sometimes wanted more of a challenge than doped up whores and whiny dupes. It didn’t take a genius such as himself to suspect Ms. Magee was obedient in bed, given her violent imagination and lack of control in her life. His study of her had proved said need to serve and he was surprised how much he wanted to be the one inflicting that exquisite suffering.
There was another reason for his pursuit of her. It was an all too common occurrence; he saw so much more potential in her, the possibility of such hedonistic greatness, of decadent indulgence and libertine experience. It was all being held hostage by a dam of ethics and scruples, holding back what could be a wildly epicurean person, if she’d only allow it. But her sense of right and wrong, no matter how detrimental it had been to her life, prevented it. He never believed the only option other than great genius was great evil and she was a perfect example. Ms. Magee was proof that one’s brilliance could be tempered by too much of a conscience, living a lackluster existence and unfulfilled dreams, partly due to her poor upbringing and the sheer fear of what would happen if she permitted the fury within to take over. The plain notion this could have been what became of him had he not found his true being, and the mere idea of what she was denying herself, was disturbing, even downright infuriating.
Book in hand, he thought she would appreciate the direct approach, so he walked in the front door of the bookstore alone. There was a book signing that night and she was the featured author. Not wanting to draw attention to this meeting, he’d waited until the end of the session before making his appearance. He looked around at the mostly empty establishment, spotting Karen sitting at a table at the end of a long hallway directly in front. Her books were in stacks on either side of her.
The lady next to her did a double take upon seeing him, then laughed. She remarked to Karen, “You’ve got another clown. Oh dear, this one is a Joker clone. That’s two Jokers and three jesters for tonight.” Then she directed her comments to him, “You’re late, dear! The store is closing, but you did such a fine job of dressing up, we’ll let you in!”
Ms. Magee had her head down, stuffing files into a carry bag. He approached as she said, “You have to give them credit, Lakin. They go through a lot...” she looked up at him, then took a second look of her own, seeing his walk, his clothes, his Hellish expression...and her eyes began getting wider and more frightened by the second. Never looking away, she quietly said, “Lakin...”
In front of her now, he placed a finger to his distorted lips. “Shhhhh, we don’t want another ‘public spectacle’ here tonight, do we?”
“No.” she managed to say.
“Then let’s keep this quiet.” He reached over and grabbed a chair, sitting in one swift movement.
“Oh, wow!” said Lakin, her assistant, who had been momentarily distracted. “You’ve even got the voice down pat!”
“Want to see if I’ve got the talent!?” he gleefully retorted.
Quickly interrupting, Karen said, “Lakin, would you excuse us for a moment?”
Surprised, she acquiesced. “Um, sure. Just call if you need anything.” She gave him a leery look while leaving the area and he smiled widely at her.
He looked back at Karen, who was more ordinary than he expected in person. “Surprised to see me?”
Her eyebrows raised. “Yes, actually, I am.”
“How did you know it was me?”
“You’re unique.” she quipped ironically, then nodded at his jacket pocket. “That knife, the handle, the blade; only the...that’s yours; it’s a favorite. I’ve seen it in pictures in the paper, on the ’Net. Nobody else would have that.”
He took out the knife in question, looked at it, placed it back and nodded in approval. “You are astute! I like that.” He also liked the fact she’d examined him to that level.
She folded her arms loosely on the table, seemingly resigned at his presence. “Shouldn’t you be trying to finish burning down City Hall?”
He hid his stab of anger at the reminder of his failure. “Nah. I’m savoring Gotham’s paranoia right now. They don’t know when or where I’ll strike next, so I’m just having fun watching all the sheep trying to hide from the big, bad wolf! Why, aren’t you scared?”
“Of course I am!” she insisted. “But I think the publishing company who put out my book has left me a little emotionally pummeled.”
He laughed. “I know the feeling.”
“Besides, if you wanted to hurt me or anyone else, you would have done it by now. At least to this point.”
“To this point?”
“You’re never that simple.” she replied.
He was about to say something else, then stopped, instead giving her his copy of the book. “Sign it for me.”
She was slightly amused. “Really? Sure.” She opened the cover and said, “With a capital or small ‘J’?”
He growled the words, “You know better than that.”
They eyes met and he saw it again, that hollow, mutual understanding, the warped affiliation between them. He had never told anyone to call him the Joker, it just happened. It was a calling card he’d never used or endorsed, yet was applied to his actions and deeds. That moniker had been given to him by his henchmen, his enemies and the media. He accepted it in lieu of other, even more ridiculous references. In her book, the court jester had been abandoned as an infant, raised in an orphanage, then the corrupt King cut up his face as a youngster, hence calling him “Grinemal,” saying he looked like a smiling animal. She understood once you became someone else, you can’t even acknowledge your prior existence. That character had no original designation, just like him.
It suddenly occurred to him that was what she saw in him. As before, it wasn’t the fellow perception most mistook it for; she didn’t want what he had, she wasn’t jealous. She wanted to be like him, someone different, a more terrible and removed form of his previous self. She envied him, admiring his ability to fully exit his old life for one of public menace. It was the ultimate juxtaposition of not caring what others thought of you and yet still loving the fact everyone hates you. It made him want her all the more.
She shrugged. “Do you want me to make up a name for you?” Before he could answer, she said, “Hell, I already did. Wait, here...” She inscribed something on the inside cover, then handed it back.
He took it and loudly whispered, “Thank you!” Flipping it open, he read, “To my own Grinemal...without you, I would still be alone.” It was the last words Perity said to the jester in the novel, as they made their escape, a very touching, emotional scene where she reaffirms her bond for him, yet acknowledges their love is defective. “I see you like happy endings.”
She chortled a bit. “Um, a lot of folks didn’t think that was a happy ending, them getting away like that.”
“Depends on your perspective, I guess.”
He looked back at her expectantly.
“Is there anything else?” she asked, truly curious.
“Yes.” he said, sitting upright. “I have a proposition for you.”
“And that is?”
He cocked his head and let his hand drop close to hers. A purple-gloved finger lightly caressed her pale arm and she watched in horror, saying nothing. “I said...I have a proposition for you.” he reiterated, his voice warm, deep, lyrical. “As Grinemal had for Perity.” She looked at him shocked, bewildered. He continued with, “I admit, my reading your work was accidental, but did you think I would not be motivated by so many comparisons and resemblance? Hell, I should sue you for copyright infringement! I must confess the drop-dead gorgeous knife made my cock hard, but then you, my dear, you!” He snickered manically, ending in a low rumble. “Let’s just say ‘Perity’ has been strangled either by my come or my hands or both and more than once! You see, I’m not a hard man to figure out, but I am still...a man.” he said with a wink. “And that’s it. What do you think?” he concluded, sitting back.
She lowered her head, obviously stunned. Clearing her throat, she said, “Well, I don’t know what to say. I hadn’t considered that you’d, um, want me. Not really, I mean.”
“You should have thought of that before you told the press about alike your jester and I were. I probably would have never read it.”
She shook her head. “Forgive my confusion, but, just like my character, you seem like the type who wouldn’t bother to ask.”
“True enough.” he said. “Depends on the one I choose at the time.” He leaned forward, his finger once again performing a tiny dance on her hand. “Why? Did you automatically think I would rape you? Take you against your will?” He jovially said, “Let’s do an inventory of those that have done that to you already, shall we? What about the older ‘friend’ you, um, ‘knew’ when you weren’t even a teen? He was what, thirty-nine? True love, if I’m to judge! And what about that lady you went into business with? Didn’t she steal all your ideas, employees, money and leave you in a lurch? Great way to invest all that hard earned cash, time and dedication. And did you really think your boss’ car had broken down the night you gave him a ride home?” He mockingly sobbed. “Oh, the gullibility! Here you thought of him as a father and, well, he was your daddy that night!”
“Stop it!” she snarled, her eyes filling with tears.
“Fine, just realize if I wanted to hurt you like that, according to your own pattern, I’d have to ‘befriend’ you first.”
“Well, I hate to disappoint you, but my pain levels are much lower than my character’s. Perity is about a ten and I’m barely a one.”
“You were attending that BDSM club less than five months ago.”
Deflated he seen through her ruse, she said, “I had to because it was becoming less of a hobby and more of a preoccupation. Doesn’t matter, I’m still not to the level you’re looking for.”
“I’m a good teacher!”
She nodded, sarcastically saying, “Oh, you think you’d enjoy such mundane dalliances?”
His voice took on a low, seductive quality, “Oh, my lady! I do not believe you could ever be boring while serving.” His kohl-encircled eyes swept over her appreciatively. “Honestly, I surmise you would be quite gifted. I am eager to see if I’m right.”
Honor and titillation at the flattery was visible for a few seconds in her, then was dampened. She sat back. “You’re serious.” She said it as though it were just sinking in.
Unsure about how to proceed, she nervously glanced around. “Um...can I think about it?”
“Sure.” Then, he started on a seemingly completely unrelated topic. “Don’t you just love the U. S. Postal system? They bring all kinds of goodies and treasures to your door. Okay, I do admit, a lot of garbage and grief as well.” He paused, then pointedly said, “Get any good news lately?”
She looked at him, her eyes growing astonished. “Yes,” she breathed. “I got a letter...” she trailed off, her sight becoming distant, her mouth growing slack.
“Karen?” asked Lakin, who was standing in a doorway. “They really want to close up.”
“Give me a few minutes, please!” she snapped, her tone hitched and strained. She looked back at him. “You…did you...do that?” she struggled to ask.
He nodded exaggeratedly, feigning humility. “Yeah, that was little ole’ me! Tell me, Karen, how does it feel to be debt free?”
Totally lost, she babbled, “But, why?! I mean, how could you possibly...that bill was over twenty-thousand! I don’t see how-“
He cut her off, “Two dollars, twenty thousand, a million, who cares!? Point is it’s done, out of your life. Like most, hospitals don’t care where the money comes from, as long as they get paid.”
Still shaken, with nowhere left to go, she said, “What...if I say no?” Her voice was near panic.
“Then...I walk away. As I said, I’m not here to force you. But you might want to keep this in mind.” With that, he threw her a small, clear plastic bag, which she caught out of reflex. Looking at the contents, she dropped it, gasped, coughed deeply, panted hard, then ran to the nearest garbage can, emptying the contents of her stomach. He pocketed the severed finger while she retched convulsively.
“Karen?” said Lakin, coming out from the back. “Are you alright?”
“Too much Starbucks.” he said, pointing to the cafe.
“Right.” Lakin said. “It’s time for you to leave.”
“Lakin, no!” said Karen, who finally stood upright. “We’re almost done. Please, I’ll explain everything later. Just a few more minutes, okay?”
Lakin gave him an evil look, then retreated. Karen sat back down, her eyes watering and gabbed a few tissues. Her eyes were down, her hands shaking. “What...whose is that?” She said, her voice breaking.
Glibly, he said, “I believe her name was Lela Wynt. She made your life an utter Hell for years while you worked with your friend, the lady who stole your business. Actually, Lela was the one who convinced your ‘friend’ to rip you off. And she did it simply ’cause you were a good person, ’cause there was no one to stop her, because you make such a perfect victim.”
Appalled, she said, “I read about that in the paper! They found her body horribly mutilated. I couldn’t believe it was the same person.” Her brow knitted, not making the connection. “But...why would...you hurt her?”
He suddenly, but gently, took hold of both her hands, his tone imploring, “Because I had to convince you I can be an asset to you! All I ask,” he said holding her gaze, “is for your ‘attentions’ and secrecy. In return, I can give you the retribution your sorry, pathetic life so richly deserves.” He smiled. “Think about it, Karen, I can be the spine you never had!”
Trying to recover, she attempted to dissuade him with suspicion. “Why would you do this for me? I hadn’t realized you were so considerate.”
“Maiming and killing specific targets requires little more than a couple extra steps. Just don’t ask for a partner in your volunteering.” He quickly sat back, his tone fierce, “Just tell me you’re sorry I did it and I’ll leave and you’ll never see me again.”
Her eyes went thoughtful. There, he’d done it, struck a nerve. Lakin came up from behind, ignoring him. “Karen?”
In one of the quickest about-faces he’d seen in a while, Miss Magee suddenly, brightly said, “Yes, me and um, the gentleman here were just ending our discussion. You have touched on many great points, sir, and I will take them under advisement.” She stood and extended her hand. He took hold of it and surprisingly she encased his with both of her own. “Thank you.” she said, her words reading sincerity. “If I am interested in any further endeavors, I will contact you.”
He nodded slowly, happy she appeared amiable. “Thanks for speaking with me. Here is my card.” he said, sliding the usual notice toward her, at which Lakin rolled her eyes. “I hope to hear from you soon. Good evening, ladies.” He said with a wink to Lakin, who looked away. He left, book tucked neatly under his arm and tossed the bagged finger in the trash.
A lot of folks did not follow the news regularly. He always felt that was such a mistake. Depending on the publisher, it could always provide the most wonderful entertainment. Be it shameless sensationalism or thinly-veiled propaganda, there were fewer ways to see humanity at its rotten core than the way the news was reported. Of course, that made it easier for him, to analyze and categorize when laws were changed by which politicians, when crimes where reported and how and, half the reason he bought the paper, the comics section.
I still miss ‘Calvin and Hobbes.’
He was flipping through pages of “The Gotham Times,” as Sean talked in the background.
“What do you think, boss?”
“I think it’s a great idea.” he parroted, as Sean went off on another tangent, explaining his latest plan to help them commit mayhem. When it came to Sean’s schemes, the Joker had gotten it down to a science, being able to filter out most of the inanity, while listening for actual nuggets of insight, which the young sap occasionally did have.
“Perhaps at the banquet next Saturday,” he heard him say, the smile evident in his voice, “when your girlfriend will be there.”
Sean’s eyes got big, as if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Um, you know that author lady. It’s in the paper, section C. She’s doing some charity thing; threw it together in a short time, too, put a lot of money into it. It’s a big event.” The Joker was already tossing sections aside, searching for the article. He didn’t have to look long, seeing it was plastered on the front page of the “Living” section. He read the words at a rapid pace, his anger increasing by the second. Meanwhile, Sean kept talking, “Looks like she’s auctioning off some great stuff that came from her books, including that knife you like. I guess only five of that quality were made and this is the last one. Bidding starts at five grand! Lot’s of important folk are gonna’ be there as well. Did you, um, see what she said?” He picked up a page and showed it to him.
The reporter asked her, “Are you worried the Joker will show up that night?”
“No.” she replied, confident. “He’s still dealing with not fully burning down City Hall!” Smiling she added, “Although I am curious to know what he would bid on the knife. It does make me wonder where he would display it. Probably in some dirty warehouse.”
He threw the paper down in disgust, his mind racing. “That, that harlot is taunting me!”
Sean looked baffled. “Um, how?”
“She knew I was not going to attack anywhere now! I don’t have the manpower or supplies, made obvious by my last attempt, which she rubs in my face!”
“Well, you do kinda’ have a rep with even the bad guys now, boss. Not a whole lotta’ folks wanna’ die just to do a job for you.”
He had to calm himself before he proved him right. “Which makes it particularly interesting when someone does work for me.” he sneered, at which Sean rolled his eyes. The Joker picked up the paper again, staring at the picture of her. “AND she flaunts what should be mine, given away to the highest bidder.”
It made him furious she would hold said function, complete with public figures and substantial media coverage, fully aware he could do little about it. True, he could amass a small crew and proper funds in that time, but it would mean risking failure again. However, he could not let her get away with thinking she could trouble him as such. He would take the knife just to spite her. Evidently, it was going to take more than just his offer to win her over. Yet, through his rage, a tiny part of him was thrilled she was proving to be more of a challenge than he initially thought.
part three soon(I really want to apologize for the posting errors I have been making. I am not used to LiveJournal and it is really kicking my butt. It has taken me *way* too long to make this one. simple. entry. :::sobs:::)
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
FIC: “Agent of Chaos”
FANDOM: Batman - The Dark Knight
PAIRING: The Joker/Original Female Character
DISCLAIMER: Property of Bob Kane, DC Comics, Warner Bros, Jonathon & Christopher Nolan - this story is solely for entertainment and no profit will be made.
WARNING!!!!! This story is about a young woman having consensual, rough sex with The Joker from the movie The Dark Knight. DO NOT read this, then email me, screaming how weird and warped it is. !!!!!You have been warned!!!!! (the scene is at the end of the story, if that helps!)
.....There are also some references to rape and torture.
SUMMARY: A female author writes a novel with a violent, romantic interest for her female lead character and the Joker sees himself in her work. He sees it as an invitation.
..... bold italics are the Joker’s thoughts; the story is told from the Joker’s POV
..... I have tried, as best as I can, to correct any mistakes. BUT I admit I will never be a proper beta! SO, I ask you please forgive said errors in advance!
.....Feedback is welcome, but remember I have a soft heart!
LENGTH: 105 KB or 30 pages
SPOILERS: I can’t keep track of all the spoilers I use, so read at your own risk!
“Agent of Chaos”
The light was finally working correctly. It had been driving him crazy for a while, with the slight flickering and pulsating beam. His men couldn’t understand his complaining, saying the lamp worked fine for them.
Then again, they are not the one wiring explosives together.
The television was on, thankfully occupying the others for the moment. His crew was small, so it was good they were so easily engaged. The project he was involved in wasn’t major, simply keeping himself in practice for when it came time to strike at Gotham again. He’d stayed in prison longer than expected, oddly enjoying the tension and stress his presence caused. Eventually, their fear became boring and he escaped. His departure was an utter debacle, of course, involving lots of gunfire, explosives and betrayal on all sides. It was almost predictable, it was so routine.
Idle hands, indeed. I am truly looking forward to tearing this city apart once again.
Sean, the one person he could call his “right-hand man,” was flipping channels until it came to a commercial with scantily-clad females. Sean began a diatribe of derogatory comments regarding said ladies and the others chimed in, picking the ones they’d want to perform certain carnal acts and how. The coarse banter continued, even after the program being aired came back on. The Joker half listened, as a news reporter well known in the area interviewed a young woman about her book.
“Your critics are saying this novel is more violent than your previous work.” Mike Engel stated.
“I’ve heard those reviews and I really wonder what they mean. My technique is not known to be light and fluffy. I think they are taking scenes out of context.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, if you don’t understand my character’s motivations, then some of it probably would seem outlandish or wild. But in the circumstances I’ve created, it makes more sense.”
Her defense went on for a bit, about how it was perfectly reasonable for her female lead to commit such heinous acts in the name of love and lust. The Joker’s thoughts on the bomb in front of him were interrupted when Sean said, “Boss, did you hear that?”
The Joker silently acknowledged his question with raised eyebrows.
“Listen.” Sean said and turned up the volume.
“So you don’t deny that?” said the reporter.
The lady with the dark hair smiled tolerantly. “Oh yeah, sure, whatever. He’s my inspiration, really! Honestly, I’ve been writing this book for a while now and, of course, daily events affect you, so they show up in a person’s work. He is relevant, so I wanted to portray how a person can be influenced by someone like that.”
“Are you saying you understand the Joker?” asked Mr. Engel.
“What do you mean ‘understand’?” she retorted. “Let’s face it, we can’t even begin to comprehend his thought process. I find him utterly fascinating from a human psychology point of view. There are reasons people join cults, militias and other extremists groups. My female character is one of them.”
“Don’t you think it’s profane, in a way, writing about someone this malevolent in a romantic context?”
“What, you think people like that don’t have sex?” she said, amused. “I mean, come on, does he look like the kind of person who’s celibate?” Uneasy laughter trickled through the crowd. “Scary thought, isn’t it?” she said to them. “My novel explores the ‘warped’ idea that everyone, including someone as twisted as my characters, have sex. And it just might not be as barbaric as you think! The problem is we simply make people like this, like the Joker, a monster and then they’re easy to hate. They become this abstract entity. Mind you, I am in no way condoning what he’s done, but I think we need to take a step back from all the emotion clouding the issue. It would be better to understand how people could be, dare I say, fooled into following him.”
Without even hearing the rest, the Joker knew they were probably talking about the roving band of criminals calling themselves The Pranxters, in honor of and in alliance to him. It never ceased to amaze him when he encountered supposed devotees of his. He wasn’t sure if she was one or just trying to sell books with such an outrageous notion. Do they not realize, in the end, the devil consumes the foreign and the friend?
“Why? Is he not a monster?” asked the reporter, the question eerily appropriate.
“What is a monster?” she replied, tilting her head, her face neutral.
Clearly, the question caught Mr. Engel off guard. “Well, it’s a form of-”
She cut him off with, “‘It’? Did you just say ‘it’?! I think I just made my point. Like it or not, some people are attracted to that kind of person. That is the story I’m trying to tell, about a woman who loves someone she has every reason to hate.”
The reporter said, “Many bookstores have restricted the sale only to adults and I can see why. The man she’s involved with is a court jester in medieval times, who kills people in his kingdom, is hideously disfigured and has a penchant for knives, that he uses to torture her with, might I add.”
Nonchalant, she said, “Well, my character doesn’t use explosives! And he only kills those who’ve done him wrong. Besides, does he force her? Does he do it against her will?”
“Well, no.” the reporter admitted. “But she doesn’t seem to enjoy it at times either.”
“That’s what she does to please him. We all do things to please the ones we love, even if it brings us pain, which I am sure few can claim otherwise. I admit my characters are flawed, but I think my readers understand those who are not perfect and how when life deserts you so many times, you eventually give in to the urge to live in darkness. And you are forgetting there are times she does enjoy what he does to her, even if it is brutal.”
“How do you feel about the women’s rights organizations who attack your work as being misogynist or portraying women in the age-old role of submissive?”
She shook her head impatiently. “No, I don’t even comment on that except to say I feel a woman who doesn’t acknowledge her sexuality, whatever the interest, is doing a grave disservice to herself.” Loud applause resounded, to which she nodded at the studio audience.
Now Mike Engel was smiling. “I hear you, uh, had some suggestions from your critics as to what this book should have been entitled.”
She smiled indulgently. “Yeah, certain ones had me laughing. They were pretty inventive.”
“‘Send in the Clown.’” she said with disdain, followed by light chuckling from those watching. “‘Circus Freak’ was another.” She began to laugh softly, the humor mixed with disbelief and contempt. “Although my favorite one I actually considered for a moment.”
“What was it?” said the amused reporter.
“‘A Harlequin Romance Novel’!” The audience laughed loudly and even the Joker grinned at that one.
Once it quieted down, the Mr. Engel said, “If somehow the Joker reads this book, do you think he would contact you?”
“In all honesty,” she said, her face empty, “what most don’t understand is I’m not even on his radar. He’s not aware of any of us, really. Have you heard the expression ‘burning down the kitchen to rid it of the cockroaches’? Well, that’s kinda’ how he sees the world. He doesn’t think of us as real beings, just charred insects after he’s incinerated our lives. Seeing that, I don’t think what I’ve written is going to be of any interest to him. I don’t see him caring about a sci-fi-fantasy-horror type novel. But what most fail to see is that he is, most likely, a superiorly intelligent, extremely intuitive person. Albeit for our decimation, of course!”
The Joker tilted his head curiously. It took him a few seconds to realize her ‘human psychological point of view.’ It wasn’t the sister emotion people often confused it with. It wasn’t sympathy; she didn’t feel sorry for him. On the contrary, it was empathy; she identified with him.
She suddenly smiled brightly and pleaded directly to the camera, “BUT, if he does, may I ask he at leastofficially purchase it? I’ll sign it, I swear!” The audience laughed and he smiled again.
Then, the reporter concluded the interview, “Thank you, Karen, for stopping by today. The book we are talking about is called, ‘Agent of Chaos’ and the author is Karen Mcgee. I am Mike Engel for Gotham Cable News. Thanks for watching, everyone.” The newsman showed the cover of the book and it displayed a brooding female in the arms of a veiled male, silhouetted in a doorway. The lady held a bow and arrow. The man’s jester cap was the muted colors of the rainbow and he loosely held a long, sleek knife. The silver blade was frosted, encrusted with a twirled design of silver dust, ending at the ivory and pearl handle.
The Joker eyes went wide and he stood, coming closer. “That...is beautiful.” he said, the awe clear in his voice.
Sean looked back at him, surprised. “What? The book?”
The Joker snapped, “Not the book! His weapon!” He leaned down to get a better look.
Sean smiled. “How about the book?”
“Maybe when I find time.” he said sarcastically.
“What about the girl?” Sean teased.
The Joker looked back at him, one eyebrow raised. “She is fetching, I admit...insightful, even.” He had to admit he did notice she was correct in assessing his initial, tedious regard of her. He returned to his seat, looking one last time at the screen that no longer held her image. “However, she’s not on my ‘to do’ list.”
“What do you mean, ‘a power outage’?” The Joker could not believe what Sean was telling him.
“Just what I said, boss. The entire city is without power. They don’t know what caused it, but they say it won’t last long.”
A wide grin came to the man in war paint. “Just long enough!”
Well, that was a bad idea.
The wound had finally stopped bleeding. The doctor looked up, over his glasses. “No excuses.” he said, clipping the last stitch. “You MUST stay off your feet! Once you’re better, you can use crutches.”
The Joker grabbed the older physician’s lapel, placing a gun to his head. “No can do, doc! Now patch me up!”
The doctor was not shocked at the firearm an inch away from his face. Having cared for criminals for a while, it wasn’t all that unusual having bad news regarding his client’s health result in weapons being pointed at him. “This is what you get for trying to attack city hall without thinking it through.” he admonished. “Shoot me if you want, but that won’t make your injuries heal faster. All I’m saying is, try bouncing around on that leg and you’ll be battling Batman in a wheelchair.”
Knowing he was right, the Joker violently pushed him away. “Take your cash and get out!” The powerful meds were making his head swim and while the sensation wasn’t unpleasant, it was hard to let your guard down around those he associated with. Unfortunately, the narcotics were needed, seeing the pain was nearly unbearable and he usually had a tolerance that made a Green Beret wince. He tried propping himself up on the couch without much success. Sean was hovering about, like a little brother caring for his older, sick sibling. The worse part about it was, for the next few days, he just might need the little twerp’s help.
“Is there anything I can get you, boss?”
“Get out!” he snarled, followed by a full roar, “GET OUT!” As the terrified man left the room, the Joker reared around and punched the wall as hard as he could, a clear hole swallowing his hand in thick plaster and splintered wood. He did it again and again, until his strength waned and he thought he might have broken his hand. Breathing heavily, he stopped, blinking away tears, sagging heavily on the couch.
He wanted to kick himself for not devising the ambush better. The police had been out in droves and while he was able to cause a decent amount of confusion and City Hall was at least damaged, it was still upsetting to retreat from a war you started. He simply did not want to wrap his mind around the reality he be would be stuck in this dump called “homebase” for any extended amount of time. Trying to get more comfortable, he shifted and agony shot up his leg and throughout his weary form. He held perfectly still, while riding out the pain. Panting heavily, his head suddenly lolled back, a wave of exhaustion mixing with the endorphin and morphine in his system.
Oh, shit...that was intense.
Finally, he stopped fighting the inevitable and fell into a fitful sleep.
He was humming. It was a jaunty tune, one he couldn’t fully remember, the beat infectious enough to accompany his present pastime. He sat on the man’s stomach, watching with interest, as the knife slit neatly through the flesh. The victim gurgled, too far gone to truly protest, bringing a smile to the scarred face above.
The area was soaked in blood, the stench of sweat, blood and dirt filled the air, telling of a futile struggle against a man whose only goal was to see this wounded mouse suffer and die. Erotic stimulus trickled through the Joker, yet it wasn’t quite enough to use this nearly dead body to release the tension. There was a tentative knock at the door. “Come in!” he said in a sing-song voice.
A reluctant Sean opened the door, carrying some take out food. “Am I interrupting?” he said, his eyes avoiding the gruesome display.
“Um, let me see.” The Joker looked over the victim, mentally checking off some morbid list in his head. Suddenly, he turned away. “Nah, I’m done for now.” Using a cane, he limped over to sit on the couch, snatched a bag off the table and tore into the burgers inside with blood stained fingers.
Sean watched in fascination at how the painted man acted like he’d got up from a completely normal hobby. “How’s the leg?”
“Much better!” he said gleefully. “The doc says it’ll only be a few days before I can actually walk without the stick. Oh and tell Jon thanks for bringing me the flunky.” he said with a jerk of his thumb at the guy on the floor behind them. “It truly did perk me up!”
“Good.” They both ate in silence for a few minutes before Sean simply had to get out of there. His eyes could not stay focused on anything that would keep his food down. “I gotta’ go, but I got you some more reading material.”
The Joker nodded at that. “Great.”
Handing him the bag, he watched in amusement as the Joker rifled through the selections inside. Just as he thought, the murderous clown burst out laughing at the book in his hands. It was such an odd feeling to be grateful you’ve pleased your boss, only to be throughly unsettled by his shrill laugh.
“Do you think she’ll sign it for me?” he asked, his eyes flitting over the dust jacket.
“Maybe if you asked nicely. I’m gone, boss.” With that, Sean made his exit.
The Joker let his fingertip pass over the embossed knife on the elaborate cover, the twirled, glittery design actually rough to the touch, just as silver dust would be. “Beautiful.” he murmured. Knives held a history unto themselves. They had deep meaning in religious rituals, different styles were meant for varying kinds of battle and simply owning them designated a person by rank, class and status. They were meant for much more than opening mail and cutting up dinner! In another life, he could have had the most extensive, impressive collection... To distract his suddenly darkening thoughts, he opened the cover and his world fell away into the pages and mind of Karen McGee.
Page 235: Agent of Chaos by Karen Magee
Sighing, her head tilted, hips shifting again. Eyes like sparkling onyx held his own black gaze. Mirrored reflections, still, frozen. A pulsating beat was heard by both, felt and seen in twin distended veins. Two hearts pounded fiercely as another hilt, abode to a short metal sheath, found home in her flesh. Gasping, she writhed at the sweet burn. ‘Please touch me.’ she begged, the words strained with longing. Resting his face on hers, the soft skin was lightly kissed. Tears were there, paved, clear lanes, endorsing his deeds.
‘I was afraid,” he said, “you had not received my notice for tonight.” Pure rapture paired with his disclosure,“I was, as always, more than elated to witness your weapon etched on my returned note, promising your presence.” An idea came to him, of using her own bow and arrows as another culprit against her, for her...for him. “Flushed, are you?” he teased.
Anxious kisses were returned just as light over his jagged visage. “Explore and see.” She invited. His hand lowered, his fingers diving into and motivating the moistened flesh.
Head back, eyes closed, she exclaimed her praise,“Oh, yes!” Writhing on his hand, she was panting, shaking. “You empower me, you give me the reins, the direction I need.” she told him. Watching her desperate display, it was a time to marvel how his cruel touch could create bliss for another. Be it her fight training, her studies or how to love this anguish, he gives her what she asks for.
Wounds were succinct on her excited form, the lacerations across her deep enough to make even breathing bring pain. It was time to end her suffering. The short stem in his grip was twisted, causing her full scream to blend with her convulsing wetness. Blooming from within. Enduring his climax would be her last punishment for the night.
The Joker closed the book. He sat up, clamping his hand over his straining erection, squeezing to take the edge off. Distracting images swirled in his mind of pain, blood and pleasure. Night had fallen and he stood, putting full weight on the leg that had been hurt. It did not ache at all, supporting him quite well. It was strong and whole again. Sleep did not seem soon in coming, even though he’d worked out for hours earlier. Exercising was one of the few things that kept him, well, as sane as he was. It was imperative to strengthen his injured limb and clear his mind and body of the rust and filth he’d inhaled in this place.
Well, maybe not my mind.
His eyes found the book again. “She has a talent, of sorts.” he muttered. Admittedly, it wasn’t the stuff classics are made of, but still...compelling. He envisioned a part where the lead male character, Grinemal and his lady, Perity, a handmaiden, play hide and seek in the royal gardens, where he passionately takes her in a pile of roses bushes. Echoing their playful enticement to each other, he said in lilting tone, “‘Come out, come out, wherever you are!’” The mere idea of her thrashing about, leaves and petals mixing with blood and fleshly joy, made his heart strain with a keen lust.
Flipping the book over, he contemplated the author with the plain name and strikingly dark gaze. Suddenly, he saw her, enraptured with arousal at his own vicious ‘attentions’ and a heated sizzle shot through him. She knows not what she entices, or does she? Looking closer at the book, he noticed her symbol. It was a bejeweled crest made of silver, pearls, hematite, marcasite and small diamonds. He tilted the book toward the light, revealing two very tiny letters, almost imperceptible. Superimposed on each other, reflected off the center stone was the letter “T” in black, the “P” in white.
It had recently been used by The Pranxters as a solicitation to the Joker, hoping he would show up in or around the time of one their crimes were happening. The fact she’d used it here and now was...intriguing. Giddiness flittered within him, the possibility making him smile. In that instant, he decided to see if this novel just might actually be an invitation on her part. And he knew just where to start.
Everyone wants something. Now, what are her unique ‘needs’?
He sat down in front of the computer and began his research into the life of his latest, favorite writer.
A few days had passed and he was well on the road to discovering his suspicions. He fingered his hands through his dark, greenish hair, surveying his next move. The evening’s events were coming to an end and it was well worth the effort. A woman hung by her hands, strung up from the ceiling, her feet barely touching the floor and she was whimpering softly. His forced intimacies with her was turning out to be excellent foreplay for the main event.
“Why...are you doing...this?” she choked out.
The Joker let his fingers play over various instruments, finally picking up the garden shears. He looked at her bewildered. “Don’t you know, when you receive a formal request for your appearance, in good faith, you bring a gift!” He came towards her and she began to scream again.
part two will follow soon
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
...for the first time in, what, six months?! eesh!
WARNING - This site features slash content (usually male-on-male sex) Do NOT continue if that is something that offends you OR if you are "underage", then go elsewhere.
UPDATES for Nectar = = June 2008. Welcome to my UPDATES email for this site! Let me know if you'd like anything to be featured here! = = LadyAna
= = CHECK OUT CactusKim’s Aragorn/Legolas manip called Danger Nears. Let her know how much you like her work: ( Kim AT flash.net ) I highly respect and adore Kim’s work, so I ask that...BY CLICKING ON THE LINK BELOW, YOU AGREE NOT TO MISUSE, ALTER OR POST THESE MANIPS IN A PUBLIC OR PRIVATE FORUM *anywhere* WITHOUT PERMISSION FORM THE CREATOR. Thanx!
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= = Never Enough Heroes
= = New stories have been added as well...
= = A Long Fellowship
WARNINGS: Slash (M/M).
SUMMARY: Aragorn reflects as an old man upon his long friendship with Legolas.
(*THIS* one was written for me! Yay!)
= = Le abdollen
WARNINGS: Slash (M/M), AU, some angst, Mpreg.
SUMMARY: Legolas frets that Estel has lost interest; Estel needs reminding of the more important things in life. Both learn how to love.
= = Switch
Warnings: Slash (M/M), slash m/m (don’t forget to read author’s notes!)
SUMMARY: The Valar switch Legolas and Estel’s bodies.
= = The Music of What Happens
by Chloe Amethyst
Warnings: Slash (M/M), first time
SUMMARY: Eighteen-year-old Estel, who does not yet know of his heritage as Aragorn, meets the Mirkwood Prince for the first time and falls hard. Is it possible for them to have a future together?
= = Sentry Duty
Warnings: slash (m/m), first-time, humor, a little angst SUMMARY: Aragorn receives a gift from Legolas and wishes to return the favor.
...more to come next month!
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Saturday, February 9, 2008