Ask my muse painfully personal questions.

The Carnival Queen

greasepaint-n-lipstick:

grin-n-bare-it:

Sun streaks broke through the cataracts called windows lining the high ceilings of the sleepless night. Joker loomed in the murky shadows watching dust dance in the dawn. He’d been keeping an eye on his girls- perhaps to make sure they weren’t ethereal visions that would vanish as he slept. They’d been missing from his life for so long. It seemed like years, though judging from the size of his daughter it must have only been months. Lily. The thought of having a spawn had been all but forgotten, pushed to the back of his mind by her absence. But it’s much harder to pretend she doesn’t exist when her tiny hand is clasped around your finger. He’d sunken down to the dirty cement floor where his beloveds lie dreaming on a crude nest of blankets. He hadn’t had much time to furnish the warehouse. Naked concrete and steel beams frame the abandoned store room once used for surplus carnival prizes and roller coaster parts. A walk in freezer lay stagnant and luke warm in the far left corner directly across from an oversized clown head that was no doubt once the pinnacle of the park’s entrance. The harlequin family hid close to a stack of empty wooden crates labelled as funnel cake mix and a rusted out popcorn machine.

Lilian was the first to stir, tiny limbs struggling against her mother’s ridged embrace, face scrunched into screaming position. Harleen wavered on the edge of lucidity, grunting softly as Jay lifted Lily from her arms. The baby clung to his chest complacently, drifting back to sleep. The feeling was foreign. Alien. His heart rate picked up pace. So small, fragile. A wrong move could be deadly. Playing guardian angel to a child gave him a sort of uneasy tightness in his throat, and yet he held her close, a hand gently rubbing her back to lull her. A long exhale. Leaning back on a crate, his eyes flicked to Harley…

     As frail as Lillian may have seemed, her mother was obviously more fragile. Far too thin and pale for comfort, she was laying in a half-dreaming state with her chilled azures on him. They were lucid and open only halfway, stirred when her child had been pulled from her. The sight of Jay holding her was an odd comfort. To others, there wasn’t a doubt ‘The Joker’ would be kept from his daughter, and she from him, but in their twisted world it didn’t matter.

    Joker was no more of a danger to his child than he he had ever been to Harley. Less so, considering the couple’s history…

    Harley said nothing as she watched her would-be lover traipse around the room with a toddling in his inexperienced hands. Heaving herself into sitting up, her jeans rippled in creases where months earlier they hadn’t been less than too tight. Now they cradled her small frame the way Jay was cradling Lily. Loosely—as if he thought he might break her.

    There was a rusted out shell of some kind of cabinet to the far corner of the half-empty room they were occupying. It sent a tingle of discomfort up Harley’s back and reminded her of handcuffs. The thought slid her skinny legs beneath her and she crossed her arms. Bare feet fell into a gentle padding on the cold concrete and she shadowed the clowns movements the way a mime might have.

    Harley liked life this way. It felt simple, gentle, and fluid.

   The blankets rustled in the corner of his eye. Harley was awake, wandering up behind him. Arms crossed feebly around her emaciated chest, she had a twitch of a smile at her lips. He couldn’t look at her without his eyes welling up. Her face told the story of the pain she’d went through these past months, her body telling of abandonment and loneliness. A redness spread across Jay’s cheeks. It was embarrassing, honestly. He let her starve, homeless on the streets. And for what? Some misplaced sense of self loathing and unworthiness on his part? No. It was greed. Greed and guilt. As he forced himself to raise his head to meet her loving gaze, his guilt loomed over him, a great wave threatening to crash down and render him to tears,

“Look…” His voice cracked, useless. He couldn’t speak to her. She deserved an explanation he couldn’t give her. He silently handed Lily back to her mother, removed his jacket and draped it over Harley’s shoulders. His hands lingered for a moment, hovering, not knowing whether he was able to touch her without the guilt overwhelming him. His hands came down to rest on her shoulders. It wasn’t too painful. Gliding down to her arms, he grips her tighter. Lovingly. A sob caught in his throat and made him retract, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his slacks. He tried talking again, croaking at first but clearing his throat before a second go, “W-would you like some coffee?” His eyes glittered dangerously. Eyes dart to his feet, “I know a nice little coffee shop just in town. It’d be just like old times, yuh know? Incognito? Have some fun?” A dry chuckle, “Some plain old, mundane… fun?”

The Carnival Queen

Sun streaks broke through the cataracts called windows lining the high ceilings of the sleepless night. Joker loomed in the murky shadows watching dust dance in the dawn. He’d been keeping an eye on his girls- perhaps to make sure they weren’t ethereal visions that would vanish as he slept. They’d been missing from his life for so long. It seemed like years, though judging from the size of his daughter it must have only been months. Lily. The thought of having a spawn had been all but forgotten, pushed to the back of his mind by her absence. But it’s much harder to pretend she doesn’t exist when her tiny hand is clasped around your finger. He’d sunken down to the dirty cement floor where his beloveds lie dreaming on a crude nest of blankets. He hadn’t had much time to furnish the warehouse. Naked concrete and steel beams frame the abandoned store room once used for surplus carnival prizes and roller coaster parts. A walk in freezer lay stagnant and luke warm in the far left corner directly across from an oversized clown head that was no doubt once the pinnacle of the park’s entrance. The harlequin family hid close to a stack of empty wooden crates labelled as funnel cake mix and a rusted out popcorn machine.

Lilian was the first to stir, tiny limbs struggling against her mother’s ridged embrace, face scrunched into screaming position. Harleen wavered on the edge of lucidity, grunting softly as Jay lifted Lily from her arms. The baby clung to his chest complacently, drifting back to sleep. The feeling was foreign. Alien. His heart rate picked up pace. So small, fragile. A wrong move could be deadly. Playing guardian angel to a child gave him a sort of uneasy tightness in his throat, and yet he held her close, a hand gently rubbing her back to lull her. A long exhale. Leaning back on a crate, his eyes flicked to Harley…

sweeneytad:

*dentist slaughters family in front of you*

they’re bleeding because you don’t floss