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dis0rderly-cl0wn-nerd · 5 days ago

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Love this ending <3

Crack A Smile and Cut Your Mouth

Ledger!Joker Origin Story

Chapter Sixteen - Why So Serious?

Warnings: Violence, murder - he's the Joker now guys!

Chapter Summary: Jack Joker removes himself from any trace of his past and starts anew. His mission to take control of Gotham begins.

Author's Note: And that's a wrap! Thank you guys so much for all your love and support! All the likes, comments, reblogs, kudos, and bookmarks I got are greatly appreciated 💜 I enjoyed writing this so much. Even though there were times when my motivation was low, I just kept pushing myself to get to this point and it was so worth it. This last chapter is lengthy because there was a lot of stuff I had to pack in. I'm really proud of this one. Enjoy!

Taglist: @alittlesmartcookie @furisodespirit @lightsabergirl

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A low moan could be heard echoing in the bathroom as Jack groggily opened his eyes and sat up. His whole body ached. He was incredibly dizzy and struggled to stand.

What the hell? Oh.

He caught sight of himself in the cracked, bloody mirror and remembered everything. He still couldn’t believe that he actually did it. It actually happened.

His hand moved up to feel the right side of his face. He stroked it carefully, as if he was afraid to mess something up. The wound was hot and puffy. It burned at his touch. The patch of skin was bumpy and jagged, now matching the other side.

The bathroom looked like a crime scene. There was so much blood splattered everywhere. There was even some on the ceiling. How it got there, Jack had no clue. He remembered thinking somewhere in his swirling, spiraling mess of thoughts that maybe he would die from the blood loss and he wouldn’t have to go through with this plan anymore. Either way he wouldn’t have cared. Nothing was important and nothing mattered to him anymore.

Jack staggered out into the hall and into the kitchen, holding onto the countertops for support as he fumbled around in the cabinets. He found the bottle of painkillers he kept up there and twisted off the cap like a ravenous beast, his breathing labored. He shook a handful of the pills into his bloodstained hand and took them with grimace.

The dizziness had not yet gone away as Jack attempted to walk back to his bedroom. He collapsed on the couch halfway there and took a minute to get his bearings back, putting a hand to his forehead.

“What to do…” He mumbled aloud.

He needed to start perfecting this clown persona he was preparing to take on. A new name was in order. Something that had an edge to it. Bozo? No that’s taken. Wild Card? That’s stupid. Chuckles? Not very intimidating. Jester…? Eh, names weren’t that pressing at the moment. He could come back to that.

Most importantly, he needed a new look. The first and most painful step was complete. He just didn’t look very…clown-like. There was still lots more to be done before he could officially get started.

Jack felt like he could stand up again and stumbled back into his room. A calming, numbing feeling washed over him as the painkillers kicked in. Now would be the perfect time to go out and hunt for the rest of his ensemble. Keeping in mind the current state of his appearance, he threw on his black hoodie from the floor and pulled the hood over his head. He dug out a brown scarf from his closet and fastened it around his face.

Nobody needed to see him like this. Not yet. He wasn’t finished.

After shoving his keys into his pocket, Jack left the apartment building and started towards town. He knew of a costume shop not too far away. There he could find some of the things he needed for at least the makeup aspect.

It was cold and rainy out, which actually worked in his favor. No one would question why he had a scarf on like that. He shoved his icy hands into his pockets to stay warm and kept going at a steady pace until he reached the shop.

It was practically deserted. Jack was the only one there besides the young guy sitting behind the counter, who had to still be in high school. He looked bored out of his mind.

Jack went towards the back of the shop where the makeup was. He had a vague idea of what he was going to do. He already had the colors in mind. He just needed to figure out how to put it all together. He would obviously need white as the main, base color so he picked it up first. Then he grabbed a tube of Russian red lipstick and a container of black greasepaint for his eyes.

Next he had to pick out the hair dye. That was a hard decision. He hadn’t put much thought into his hair until now. Red was definitely out. He’d look like Ronald McDonald. Maybe blue? Or purple? Nah. It wouldn’t go with his outfit ideas. He spotted green on the shelf and was instantly intrigued. He grabbed the box of dye and looked over it with a smirk. Green could work. It was electric. It stood out. It would be perfect.

Jack put the box of dye in his armful of stuff and brought everything over to the counter. He could’ve easily walked out without paying and he thought about doing it, but he wanted to have some fun with the kid.

The boy lazily scanned the items and looked up at him. “$10.50, sir.” He said with a yawn.

Jack laid down a 5 dollar bill and a few ones. He scooped up the items and started to walk off.

“Hey, uh, sir! Come back. You’re still a few dollars short.” The boy called after him.

Jack turned around with his scarf lowered and glared at him. His dark eyes told the kid that he better just look the other way. The boy went pale and a look of terror spread across his face. He motioned for Jack to go ahead. Jack smiled at him and pulled his scarf back up.

…

When he made it back to his apartment, Jack was giddy. He had to test everything out right then. He brought the supplies into the bathroom and stood shirtless in front of his broken mirror. He opened up the box of hair dye first. After briefly scanning the instructions, he set it aside. He combed through his messy curls with his fingers the best he could and sectioned off his hair with the clips that came in the box.

He didn’t bother bleaching his hair before he colored it. The dye needed to be easily washed out. It would help him when he needed to go incognito or put on a disguise.

Jack took the dye out of the box and began spreading it around with the brush, making sure to cover every area. Once it was spread out, he ran his fingers through his hair, seeping the green into the brown curls. He let the dye sit for a few minutes and then rinsed in the sink. The water mixed with the dye and left behind trails of green down his neck and shoulders.

He pulled his hair back into a ponytail and patted his face dry with a towel so he could start on the makeup. First he slathered the white paint onto his face. His skin peeked out at the crinkles of his nose, mouth, and forehead. Next he took the black paint and smeared it around his eyes. He wanted it to be as messy and unhinged as possible. He was trying to scare people, not perform magic tricks at birthday parties.

Last came the lipstick. This was where he could really display the madness. He applied it to his lips just like anyone else would, but smeared it at the corners of his mouth. He applied some more on his scars and rubbed it in. He was gentler with the right side since it was of course still very sensitive.

Jack stood back and admired his work in the fragments of the mirror. He smiled. Every detail was perfect. The greasepaint, especially the black around his eyes, closely resembled the camouflage warpaint of his army days. That was a good thing. It meant he had achieved the whole goal of the makeup. This was his warpaint now.

As for his outfit, he found various pieces of dress clothes buried in the back of his closet. He was mainly looking for patterned things and little pops of color, which he didn’t have much of. In the future, when he solidified what he wanted and had the proper funds, he would buy himself a custom suit. For now, he made do with what he already had and chose a light blue patterned dress shirt, dark gray slacks, and a dark gray blazer. Simple, but it would get the job done.

The look was completed, yet there was still plenty more to do. For one thing, the apartment, as nice as it was, just wouldn’t do anymore. Too many people around. Too many potential witnesses. It was in the past, tied to Jack Napier. He needed to move out, no questions asked.

Jack knew that might be easier said than done. With Mrs. Vernon being the way she was, she would try everything to get him to stay and pester him until she could find out why he was leaving. Obviously, he couldn’t let her figure out anything.

…

“Uh, so you see, Mrs. Vernon, it’s nothing personal. It’s been great here. But I won’t be staying here anymore.” Jack said to the landlady, treading carefully. She had always been kind to him so he didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

Mrs. Vernon didn’t look upset, but her eyes said otherwise. Her expression was more concerned, like a mother worried about her child’s reckless decisions.

“Oh. Was the rent too much? We can work something out if you need to, Jack.”

“No. It’s perfectly fine. I’m just moving across the city. I have a, um, job opportunity there. I need to be closer to it.”

“Okay. I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t anything I did.”

Mrs. Vernon still looked very troubled as she shook Jack’s hand. Who wouldn’t? The other night he came in struggling to walk and trailing in blood behind him. Now just a few days later, he comes into her office covering his face and saying he’s moving out? He knew it wasn’t a good look. But he was a good liar.

“Thank you, Mrs. Vernon. I can send you the rest of this month’s rent if you want.”

“No no no. Don’t worry about that, dear. I don’t need it. You keep that for yourself.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Keep it.”

“Alright. I should be out of here by this evening. Thank you for being so good to me these past two years.”

“You’re welcome dear. Good luck at your new job.”

Jack nodded and stood up from the desk. He exhaled in relief as he left the office and walked up the stairs back to the third floor so he could begin packing. That actually wasn’t so bad.

The day before he worked tirelessly to clean up the apartment, making it seem as if nothing had ever happened there. He cleaned the messy kitchen and the trashed living room, replaced the broken mirror, picked up all the glass shards, and scrubbed away the blood staining the bathroom.

Today he would spend his time packing up. Everything had to go. Compared to when he first moved in, he only had a backpack, a duffel bag, and a big box full of stuff. Really he wouldn’t even need that much. He was starting over.

That night he walked out of the lobby for the last time and waved goodbye to Mrs. Vernon, maintaining a friendly front. He threw his stuff into his truck and drove off. Where he would go he had no clue, but he couldn’t stay there. Eventually he found an abandoned building a few minutes away and decided to stay there for the night. Until he could find another place of his own, he would have to wander around homeless for a while.

Jack was much too excited to sleep. He pulled out his deck of cards and shuffled through them to pass the time. He came across the joker card and that's when the lightbulb went off. He sat bolt upright.

Joker! That’s what he would be called. It had a nice touch. Why didn’t he think of that sooner? The card was part of his whole inspiration. Joker. That was his name now.

…

Here it is. This is it. Joker thought as he approached the door outside the boarded up warehouse, holding a briefcase full of cash. He knocked on the door four times just as instructed. A few moments passed and then a slot at the top of the door opened. A pair of eyes glared at him.

“Yes? State your business.” A raspy voice demanded.

“Appointment for Jack.” Joker answered calmly.

The slot closed and the sound of the door being unlocked echoed in the alley. A tall man with greasy long brown hair, dressed in a beanie, black t-shirt, and torn jeans appeared in the doorway.

“Come inside and follow me.” He said curtly.

Joker walked inside and the man locked the door behind him. He showed Joker into a small room down the hall. Papers strewn everywhere, multiple computers and monitors sat on the wooden desk in the center of the room, and filing cabinets lined the walls. The man sat down in his office chair and gestured for Joker to sit down across from him. He obliged.

“So Mr. Napier, may I ask why you want your identity scrubbed?” The man asked as he typed something into his computer.

Joker shifted in his seat. “I have my reasons.”

“I see. They never tell me their true intentions. Eh, I don’t care as long as I get my money.”

Joker tapped the briefcase laying in his lap. “It’s right here.”

“Mhm. Alright, I’ve got something. Is this you? Jack Andrew Napier? Date of birth, April 25th, 1981?”

“Yes. What are you seeing that on?”

“Your driver’s license. Now I’m getting a military profile and medical records. Oh and there’s your social security and your bank account. It’s all here. Every digital trace of you.”

“Are there fingerprints there?”

“Yep. You’ve never been arrested but it’s in the military log.”

“Wipe it. Make sure that there’s no way I can be traced.”

“Basically you want to be out of reach of police databases?”

“Yeah.”

“I can do that. They won’t be able to find you.”

“Can this ever be reversed?”

“Uh, some I think. But probably not. Not with current technology. For someone to find you, you would have to tell them what to look for. Even then it would be hard to uncover.”

“Got it. I was just curious.”

The room fell silent for a while as the man did some more digging. After he found all there was to find about Jack, he cracked his knuckles and looked up from the computer.

“Okay. Before I do this, are you absolutely sure? There’s no going back after this. Like I said, it will be very hard to get everything back.”

“Yes. Do it. Jack Napier is as good as dead to me.”

The guy shrugged and started typing in some things on the computer. “Alright. It’s done. It will take some time for you to ‘officially’ disappear from databases, but as long as you don’t do anything drastic to draw attention to yourself between now and then you should be fine.”

Joker nodded. He stood up and set the briefcase down on the desk. “Here’s your money. Your services have been most helpful.”

The man opened up the briefcase and scanned over the money for a moment, counting it. He seemed satisfied with it. Joker turned and started to see himself out, but stopped a moment.

“Hey, uh, you wouldn’t know where I could hire some help would you? Good help, not goons or low life thugs. I don’t need them yet.”

“Uh, yeah. I know a guy. His name’s Jonny Frost. He’s been in Gotham for a couple of years now. Relatively new but knows his stuff. I do business with him a lot. He’s got those military connections, you know? If you need to get a hold of an illegal weapon of any kind, he’s your guy.”

That sparked Joker’s interest. “Right. I’ll look into him.”

Before he left, he whipped out his pistol from his pocket and shot the man square in the chest as he was hunched over the desk, scooping up the money. The man slumped back into his office chair. Joker could not leave this guy alive with the knowledge of his true identity. No one could know.

…

After days of asking around, Joker finally found out where to find the Frost guy the man had spoken of. From what he could gather, he was currently looking for someone to hire him. Lots of people wanted to, but he always turned them down. Apparently he wasn’t into the whole criminal underworld scene. He mostly worked for himself and took up a few jobs here and there that he found to be worth it. Frost was an anomaly. Joker liked that.

Multiple sources told Joker that Frost would be at a bar downtown, his usual spot on the weekends. So that’s exactly where Joker went. He walked up to the bartender and leaned over the counter, trying to be nonchalant.

“Do you know where I can find a guy called Jonny Frost?”

The bartender flicked his head in the direction of the back door. “Outside.”

Joker nodded his thanks and stepped outside of the bustling bar.

A man was standing in the back alley behind the building. He was well built and tall, at least six feet, but still slighter shorter than Joker. He had shaggy brown hair, a little stubble on his face, and piercing blue eyes. His demeanor looked very ‘frosty’ indeed. He was leaning against the back wall of the club, smoking a cigarette. Joker joined him and stood on the other side. Frost cast him a brief glance but said nothing.

“Got a name?” Joker asked as he lit a cigarette from his pocket.

“Uh, name’s Jonny. Jonny Frost. You?”

“Ain’t got a name. Well not anymore anyway. That’s not important. I hear you’re prime pickin’ for hired help. I also hear you’re the man to talk to about obtaining weapons. That you got military connections. Is that true?”

“Some. What’s it to ya?”

“I got connections too. Used to anyway. But–I’m not exactly in the system anymore. Disappeared if you will. Get what I’m tryna say?”

“I gotcha.”

��So, would you be interested in working for me? I have a really important job for you.”

“Listen man, if you’re starting up some new gang or looking to be the next big crime lord, I ain’t about that life. I hate gangs. I hate the mob. I hate the way they have so much control over everything in this godforsaken city. And if that is what you’re trying to do, it won’t work. You got a lot to compete with. Maroni, Gambol, the Czechen, the Russian… It goes on and on.”

“Then we’re on the same page! I hate them too. I’m looking to get rid of the mob. Hell, all the corrupt people in this city with even a shred of power. Politicians, cops, businessmen…”

Frost still looked skeptical. “How?”

Joker grinned. “Warfare. Pure psychological warfare. I’ll flip this city upside down. Make them see themselves for what they really are.”

“Mhm. What’s in it for me?”

“You’ll be paid generously, let me assure you. And I’ll guarantee protection. For you at least. Can’t say the same for the other guys I’m gonna hire.”

Frost laughed a little. “What’s stopping you from doing the same to me?”

“I’m a man of my word. Trust me, Frost, I need you. I can’t risk losing a man with your talents.”

“Pssh. Don’t flatter me.”

“You’ve also been in the game a while. You know how things work. I don’t. Not yet. That’s valuable to me.”

Frost thought for a moment and sighed. “Fine. Only because I need my bills paid. What do you need me to do first?”

“Hmm. Find me a good place to set up shop. Right now I’ve just been wandering around from place to place.”

“You got it, Boss.” Frost replied and flicked his cigarette to the ground. He turned to leave, but paused and looked back at Joker. “How long were you in?”

“Long enough.”

“Heh. I know a grunt when I see one.”

Joker smirked.

…

“Where to, Boss?” Frost asked as Joker slid inside his car.

The clown was barefaced and dressed in a black sweatshirt and army green cargo pants, casual clothes. A duffel bag was in his lap. Frost had been working for Joker for about a month at this point, helping him gather resources and whatnot.

“I need to go back to my hometown and, uh, tie up some loose ends.” Joker replied and started looking through the bag. Inside there were all sorts of weapons and other supplies.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m killing my father.”

Frost was caught off guard by the blunt statement, but only for a moment. “Oh. Alright. Uh, let’s go then. Show me the way.”

Joker gave him brief instructions on where to go and then resumed sorting through his weapons. He put several knives into his pockets and laid the duffel under his seat when he was finished with it. He slouched back against the seat, resting his head against the cold window.

“Uh, J, can I ask why?” Frost spoke up once they were on the highway, leaving Gotham.

Joker sighed but didn’t look up. “He’s a worthless, drunk piece of shit. I can’t let him live. Not after what he’s done to me, to my mother… If I’m gonna start getting even, he’s the first to go.”

Frost nodded. “I get it.”

…

A few hours later, Frost pulled up beside the sidewalk in front of the white, one story house. “This it?”

Joker nodded. He rummaged through his pockets and made sure his arsenal of weapons were all in check before he got out of the car. Frost shut it off and waited for instruction.

“Wait here. I should be back in less than an hour.” Joker said without looking up as he loaded his pistol.

Frost cast him a worried look. “J, you sure about this?”

“Positive. I’ve been dreaming of this day since I was 14.”

Frost shook his head. “Alright then.”

Joker pocketed his gun and opened the door, sliding out onto the sidewalk. “I’ll be right back.”

He shut the door and walked up towards the old house, complete with chipped white paint, rotting boards, a tall, weed infested lawn, moss on the roof, and vines growing on the walls. His childhood home. His hell for 18 years. It was in an even worse state than when he left it for good just two years ago.

He trudged up the steps and, preparing himself, knocked on the door. Shuffling and cursing could be heard from inside. Scott finally answered the door after a few moments. Confused, he started to speak, but he realized who he was looking at and his expression darkened.

“Jack?! I thought I told you to get the hell out! You’re no son of mine!” Scott shouted.

Joker just smiled devilishly and pulled out his pistol from his pocket. “Damn right.”

Scott’s eyes widened. “N-Now, wait just a minute there...” He stammered.

Joker rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

He backhanded Scott in the face, sending him to the ground, and barged his way inside, closing the door behind him. The house was messy and smelled strongly of alcohol like always. Scott was dressed in a dingy white tank and his boxers. He was skinnier than when Joker last saw him. Visibly older too. He now bore wrinkles and graying hair.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Jack! You…you wouldn’t!” Scott shouted from the floor.

Joker scoffed. He grabbed Scott up by his shirt collar and snarled, “Listen very closely, you piece of shit, I’m the man with the gun. I wouldn’t? I would. Now get on your knees and beg me not to do it or I’ll blow your fucking brains out.”

Scott fell to the floor with a grunt and tried to crawl away. Joker laughed and drew his knife.

“Aht, aht. Where do you think you’re going?” He sneered and slammed the blade down into his hand, pinning him to the floor.

Scott screamed in pain. He tried to pull away to no avail.

“Don’t you feel like a big strong man, Scott? You’re tough right? You like to hit women? C’mon show me how tough you are! No? Ohhh, but you had no problem showing me when I was a kid! What’s the matter?”

“Fuck you!” Scott spat.

Joker grabbed a fistful of his hair and slammed his head down on the now bloody floor.

“Wrong answer. Beg me. Beg for your life. Beg me not to kill you right here!”

“Never!”

Joker punched him in the gut. Scott yelped. Joker didn’t stop. He pummeled into the crumbling, pathetic man that was his father mercilessly over and over again. As his fists flew, he relived those long, terrifying nights as a kid when Scott would beat him senseless, when it hurt to lay down, and when he cried himself to sleep, clinging to his pillow for some sense of comfort.

“Jack! No! Son, please…have mercy…” Scott pleaded in between drunken sobs.

“Shut up! I’m not your son!” Joker screamed.

He ripped the knife from Scott’s hand and went to stab his chest, but hesitated when he caught a glimpse of his mother’s picture on the wall. Her hazel eyes seemed to come alive and stare into his soul. He felt a pang of guilt. I’m so sorry, Mama. He would finish the job outside. Her presence still lingered in that old house.

“Get up.”

Scott stood up on weak legs and quivered before his deranged son. Joker stared at him for a moment, scanning his eyes for any trace of remorse. There was none. Only fear and cowardice.

“Start walking.”

“Wh-Where?”

“Out back. To the shed. Now.”

Scott, held at gunpoint, stumbled towards the back door. Joker watched his every move and followed close behind, trembling with rage. His patience was wearing thin. He pushed the older man out of the house and dragged him towards the shed.

“No!” Scott cried.

Joker clamped his hand over his mouth. “Shh! You’ll wake the neighbors.”

Scott let out a muffled whine and went limp, accepting his fate. Joker managed to get the door open and hauled him inside. He shut the door back and pulled on the metal cord hanging from the ceiling. A dingy, dust covered lightbulb came on in response.

“Gotta be able to see what I’m doing, right?” Joker snickered as he unraveled some rope from his pocket.

“You’re insane.” Scott sputtered in disbelief.

“Am I? You helped make me this way.”

“I toughened you out! Looks like it worked, didn’t it?”

Joker didn’t have the energy to respond. He punched Scott in the jaw, knocking him over. He would’ve tied some of the rope around his mouth so he didn't have to listen to his bullshit anymore, but he wanted to hear him scream when he tortured and eventually killed him. What sweet music that was going to be.

Humming to himself, he tied the rope around Scott’s wrists. He dragged him to his feet and hung him up on a hook screwed into the wall. The drunk dangled from his wrists and struggled to breathe. His body was bruised and beaten. His clothes were stained with blood.

Joker took out the set of knives from his pocket and picked the biggest one. He lifted Scott’s chin condescendingly so he could look him in the eyes as he drew back. With several hard thrusts, he stabbed him in the chest repeatedly. Scott groaned and gasped for air. He wriggled in the air, tightening the rope around his wrists.

“Jack, please!” He begged again and again.

Joker stared at him coldly. “Jack is dead.”

He stabbed him a few more times in the stomach and once in the chest. Scott had gone into shock way before that. He gave one last faint grunt and then hung from the hook limply. Joker shot him in the head for good measure. The deed was done.

Joker sighed and wiped away the blood from his face. Now, what to do with the body? He could dismember it or he could just leave it the way it was. He felt like the latter would actually be more meaningful. He’d leave it here to rot where someone may or may not find it. The townsfolk rightfully didn’t care much for Scott. It was likely that no one would come check on him.

Joker put away his weapons and turned off the light. He stepped out of the shed, closing the wooden door behind him. He walked around the house towards the sidewalk where Frost was still parked and waiting for him. He opened the passenger door and got in.

Frost tried to read his stoney expression. The dark clown stared straight ahead with a scowl on his face. Blood was splattered on his clothes.

“Go.” He ordered in a deep voice, callous and uncaring.

Frost decided not to press further and started the car.

…

Another month passed. Joker managed to recruit almost 30 guys for his cause. With Frost’s help and insight, he slowly found his footing in Gotham’s criminal world. With each group he stole from and each weapons shipment he took over, he gained more attention. People were starting to notice him.

The police knew about him of course, but since they had bigger things to worry about, he wasn’t their greatest concern. He would be. In just a few weeks, he would be. They’d never know what hit them.

Today was a big day. It was his first major fuck you towards the mob. He was robbing Gotham National Bank, their bank. They’d no doubt be pissed even if it was just a small amount by their standards. As a bonus, Joker’s organization would get some more funds. Maybe he’d finally go buy that custom suit he was wanting.

He stood at a street corner between two buildings not far from the bank. He was wearing his dark gray suit and had a clown mask in hand, waiting for his ride to show up. He had been planning this heist for weeks. Frost thought he had a death wish, but nonetheless helped him find five of their guys who were stupid enough to take this on.

They were all bribed by getting their own shares of the money. Depending on if they did their jobs right, and Joker knew they would, there would be less of them to share it with. Little did they know they would all be dead in the span of 20 minutes.

Joker timed everything to precision. Every little detail was meticulously planned out. Some might have thought he was a genius and some might have thought he was just crazy. Turns out he was both.

The car full of two henchmen drove up to the curb. Pulling on his clown mask, Joker walked forward and got in the car. Time to make them smile.

#don’t mind me just re reading #ledger joker #jack napier #crack a smile and cut your mouth

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dis0rderly-cl0wn-nerd · 5 days ago

Text

This chapter is my favorite one from this story. Sad definitely, but all the grief and rage that Jack was feeling for so long was finally brought out and that was really enjoyable to write.

Crack A Smile and Cut Your Mouth

Ledger!Joker Origin Story

Chapter Eight - Life's Full of Surprises

Warnings: Character death, angst

Chapter Summary: Jack comes home and things are not at all how he imagined they'd be.

Author's Note: I'm gonna go ahead and apologize in advance 😅 I did not wanna have to kill off this person but it's character development for Jack. He's been through so much already I know, but you have to remember that it had to be a lot for him to eventually snap the way he does. You don't just randomly wake up one day and decide to become a mass murderer.

No I didn't use Heaven Beside You as the song inspiration because someone dies, it's deeper than that lol. I've also had this reoccurring scene in my head where Jack is driving down the road listening to the song at full blast. At this point he's broken from war and now this has happened. He's angry and hurting, mad at the world. This song just seemed fitting. Also I love Alice In Chains <3

Taglist: @alittlesmartcookie @furisodespirit

If you would like to be added to the taglist please let me know! <3

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Jack walked through the bustling crowd of people with his head down and his hands in his pockets. He’d just got off a flight from Fort Benning. After he left Afghanistan, he went back there to finalize some things and officially be discharged.

The airport was not far from his hometown, less than thirty minutes away. Jack’s plan was to call the house and have somebody come pick him up. He knew it would most likely be his mother.

He went over to the wall of pay phones and fished out a quarter from his pocket to put in the slot. He dialed his home phone number and waited. There was no answer. He tried a second time but still nothing.

Okay… Scott’s probably at work and Mom must be out somewhere. Weird… I won’t bother with them then.

He was unsure how he was going to get home now unless he rented a car. Then he remembered Mike. According to his mom during their last phone call, Mike was still going strong. Surely he wouldn’t mind taking him home.

Jack pulled a small notebook filled with contacts and another quarter out of his pocket and searched for Mike’s number. He was so glad he carried this with him. He wouldn’t be able to remember the number from all those years ago if he didn’t. The phone rang for a few moments and then someone picked up.

“Hello?” A gruff voice said on the other end.

“Mike? This is Jack.”

“Hey! How ya doing buddy? Haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“I’m alright I guess. Listen, I’m at the airport right now. It’s the one near Fairfield. I can’t get a hold of anyone at home and I was wondering if you could come give me a ride. I’ll be out front near the parking lot.”

“Of course. Give me about 20 minutes and I’ll be there.”

“Okay. Thanks Mike.”

Relieved that he had a way home now, Jack grabbed his stuff and headed towards the front. He sat down on a bench outside the building and watched the parking lot, bouncing his leg anxiously. He didn’t know why but since the plane landed he felt super jittery. He wasn’t sure if it was all the crowds of people making him uneasy or the thought of being home again.

Some time later he saw Mike’s car pull into a space. The short and stocky man climbed out and scanned the area for Jack. He spotted him and walked towards the bench, smiling. When he got there, he pulled Jack into a bear hug.

“Jeez, you’ve really filled out. How tall are you now?” He exclaimed as they walked to the car.

Jack laughed. “Good to see you too, Mike.”

He laid his duffel in the floorboard and climbed inside as Mike started the car and put it in gear.

“So how’s army life been?” Mike asked.

Jack shrugged. “Eh, hot and bloody. But that’s the desert for you.”

“I, uh, couldn’t help but notice the scar on your face. What happened?”

“A surprise attack. The humvee I was in exploded. I managed to make it out but a piece of shrapnel hit me.” Jack explained, shifting uncomfortably.

“Oh. That must’ve been really bad. So are you home for good or are you just visiting?”

“I’m back for good now. I got discharged.”

“Why?”

“They said trauma reasons. I had a weird episode while I was over there. I think I could’ve made it a little longer but I guess they didn’t want to chance me having something like that while we were out on a mission. It could cause problems. I didn’t complain. I wanted to go home anyway and this was an opportunity to leave.”

“Oh okay. Wow. Are you okay now?”

“I don’t really know to be honest. I haven’t had anything happen lately but it could always come back. That kind of stuff is unpredictable.”

Mike grunted in agreement and focused on the road. Jack gazed out the window as they entered town and memories came flooding back to him. He was home alright. The jitteriness increased by the second as they got closer and closer to his house.

“How is my Mom?” Jack asked.

Mike slowed down drastically and nearly stopped in the middle of the road. He looked at him with a confused expression and seemed to be contemplating what he was going to say next. Now Jack was confused. Did he miss something?

“Don’t you know what happened?” Mike gasped.

Jack’s heart sank. “What? Is something wrong? Is she okay?”

Mike sighed. “I think it’s best if you go home and find out. It’s not my place to tell you.”

“Um, okay… Is it bad?”

“You’ll find out soon enough. I’m…I’m sorry, Jack. I thought you knew.”

Jack’s head was spinning. Oh God. No…

His main worry while he was away had come true. Something happened to his mother and he wasn’t there to help her. He sincerely hoped she was okay.

Mike turned down Jack’s street and pulled up to the curb in front of his childhood home. Jack grabbed his bag and turned to Mike.

“Um, thanks for the ride. I should go.”

Mike nodded grimly. Jack opened the car door and stepped out on wobbly legs. He felt sick to his stomach as he approached the house.

He reached the top of the steps and took a deep breath. There was no telling what he’d find inside. He turned to Mike and nodded. Mike gave a thumbs up and drove away.

Jack set the duffel bag down on the porch and knocked on the front door, steeling himself.

“What? Who’s showing up here at this time of the morning? Better not be a fuckin’ cop!” A familiar drunken voice slurred.

Jack inwardly groaned. Here we go…

His father opened the door and started to throw something but hesitated when he saw his son.

“Jack? That you?”

“Yes.” Jack said calmly.

Scott tilted his head and stared at Jack, particularly his injured cheek.

“What the hell happened to your face?”

Jack looked down. “Shrapnel.”

Scott chuckled darkly. “At least you didn’t die. I was expecting as much.”

Jack narrowed his eyes. Forcing himself to keep it together, he ignored the comment and changed the subject.

“Where’s Mom?”

“Oh that bitch? Didn’t ya hear? She’s dead.”

Jack stood there a moment, staring back at the drunk in shock. He was unsure if he heard him correctly.

“What?” He demanded.

“One night several months back we got into a fight. Then she hopped in the car and sped off from here. I had no idea where she was goin’. It was raining and she must’ve been too upset to drive because she crashed into an embankment and it killed her.”

Jack felt tears form in his eyes but he quickly blinked them away. He would not let his father see him cry.

“You sick fuck! You’re lying!”

“I’m not lying, Jackie. That’s what happened. Go look at the cemetery. She’s there.”

Jack wanted to hit him so bad. Why was he being so casual about this? He shoved Scott out of the way and stepped inside. The house was a wreck and smelled strongly of booze and weed. Dishes were piled in the sink and trash littered the counter and the floor. Maybe his mother really was gone. He refused to believe it.

“That’s not what happened! Where is she?”

“What part of ‘she’s dead’ don’t you understand? Did you hit your head too hard out there or something?”

Jack grabbed Scott up by his shirt collar, slamming him against the wall.

“You did this to her! Don’t tell me it was just a fight. You probably beat her until she bled. She wouldn’t’ve had to drive off like that if you’d just left her alone. You fucking piece of shit!” Jack screamed.

“Oh, look atcha all riled up. You think you’re some tough soldier guy now? You’re still the same weak little boy you were when you left.” Scott taunted.

Jack lost control and punched him in the face. Scott staggered backwards and tried to counter but lost his balance and fell over. Jack shook his head. This was pathetic. He could’ve really hurt him if he wanted to but he decided against it. This asshole wasn’t worth it.

“You…get out of my goddamn house. Go! Pack the shit in your room and leave. Take that black pick-up with you. I’m getting tired of looking at it.” Scott shouted from the floor.

“Fine. I wasn’t planning on staying anyway.” Jack muttered as he walked towards his old bedroom.

He slammed the door shut as he entered and sighed. The tears came back again and this time they were harder to keep down. The realization hit him like a brick wall. His mother was dead. He didn’t even get a proper goodbye.

Jack ran his fingers through his hair and forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He needed to pack his things and get out. Quickly. If he stayed longer than necessary Scott might go off again. He did not have the energy to deal with that a second time.

His room was the same way it was when he left, except the dust and the cobwebs on the ceiling. The posters of his favorite bands were still on the walls. His drawings and sketchbooks were still there. His pocket knife was still on his nightstand. His bed was still made up and his clothes were still in his dresser and hanging up in the closet.

Before he got to work, Jack looked for more comfortable clothes to change into. He settled on a dark brown t-shirt and jeans. He gained a lot of muscle mass and grew a few inches taller while he was gone so it was hard to find clothes that fit well.

After he got dressed, he went through his closet and his dresser and put his clothes in some cardboard boxes he found. He left the clothes he didn’t want or knew for sure he couldn’t wear. He also packed his music, his sketchbooks, his journals, his pocket knife, his skateboard, a few photos he had, and other useful things like a flashlight. He had no clue where he would go from here and what he might need.

He moved the boxes of stuff out into the hall. Double checking himself, he went through everything again to make sure he didn’t leave anything behind. Seeing that he was good, he stacked the boxes and carried them out to the truck, putting them in the passenger seat.

After a few trips, Jack hauled the last of his stuff towards the door. As he started to leave, he glanced over at Scott one last time. He was downing a beer and eating potato chips like an absolute slob. He didn't even look up. He couldn’t be bothered to at least say goodbye to his son.

So why should I? Fuck him. Jack thought angrily.

He scooped up his things and flung the door open. A rage that Jack didn’t fully know the reason behind swept over him. He darted out to the carport where his truck was, not even bothering to close the door. He tossed the box inside as he climbed in the driver’s seat and sped out of the driveway.

He was getting the hell out of here but first he actually listened to his father for a change and went to the cemetery to find his mama.

…

The cemetery was less than 10 minutes away from the house and near a small church, which Jacqueline attended often. Jack used to go with her a lot, especially when he was little. He never fully agreed with or understood the Christian faith. He guessed there was some kind of higher power out there but he wasn’t really sure what. He only went with his mom when he was a teenager because it made her happy.

Jack parked at the church and walked to the graveyard. The rusty gate made a screeching noise as he opened it. He trekked solemnly through the grass and scanned the rows of headstones for his mother’s name.

Eventually he found her by a willow tree in the back corner. Wildflowers grew in abundance at the base of the tree and along the fenceline that surrounded the cemetery. Jack picked a handful of the blue and purple ones, knelt down by Jacqueline’s grave, and laid them in front of the headstone. He read the engraving and sighed as his suspicion was confirmed.

Jacqueline died a few months into his third deployment. He understood why he didn’t find out at first because he was away from any US bases in Afghanistan where communications were. But when he came back to base after they were attacked, why didn’t he find out then? Maybe things were so hectic it was the last thing on people’s mind but still. He should’ve found out a long time ago.

Tears welled up in his eyes again and finally he let them fall. His poor mama didn’t deserve to suffer like she did and die so horrifically. He could only hope she went quickly and painlessly but he would never know for sure.

“I’m so sorry, Mama. I should’ve been here.” Jack sobbed.

He rested his head against the gravestone and just let himself openly weep for a bit. It had been a while since he had a good cry. He was already dealing with a lot. Trauma from the war, the hideous scar on his face, and now this. It was starting to feel like his life was slowly falling apart.

Jack kissed his hand and then touched the gravestone. “Bye Mama. I love you. Always.”

Composing himself, he wiped his eyes before he stood up and walked back to the truck. He pulled out of the parking lot and started back down the road with no absolutely no idea where he was going or what the plan was.

One thing was clear. He had to get out of here. This town held too many bad memories. If he was going to move on and get better, he needed to start over completely. The highway seemed like the best option right now. He’d take it until he figured out what to do. It wasn’t a very strong plan but it worked for now.

Jack finally hit the main road, leaving the small town in the dust. He was going 10 miles over the speed limit but he could care less. He was mad. This was not fair.

“Stupid bastard! Can’t even spare the decency to take her death seriously. I mean, what did I expect, but still! And I didn’t find out until now?! Almost three months later? No one stopped to think hey maybe we should tell her son! Oh no, he’s overseas, we shouldn’t bother him with that. That’s kinda something I need to fucking know!” Jack vented to the air.

He reached down and grabbed his CDs from the floor, picked one, and inserted it into the truck’s CD player. While in the army he couldn’t enjoy music as much as he used to. The opening guitar riff on his favorite album as loud as he could stand it was so refreshing. It helped him to calm down a bit. He’d crash if he kept raging like this.

Jack was furious at Scott for treating him and his mother like shit for so many years and being indirectly responsible for her death. And then to top it off, being completely careless and unapologetic about the whole situation.

He was also angry with himself for not checking up enough back home. But what could he do thousands of miles away? He just had to accept that there was nothing he could have done about it. That devastated him.

Jack rolled down the window slightly to let some fresh air in, the wind blowing in his face. He belted out the lyrics of the next track as it came on and got lost in the music to let out his rage.

He didn’t understand why all of this was happening to him. He was only 24 and he already had more problems than most people twice his age. Maybe this fresh start would be good for him. Being away from everything that caused him so much pain would be the best way to heal.

A few miles down the road, a gas station popped up out of the monotony of fields and trees in the middle of nowhere. Jack glanced at his fuel gauge. It was halfway to empty. He decided it would be a good idea to stop. There probably wouldn’t be another place to fill up for miles. So he parked beside a pump and went inside the store.

“I need 10 gallons on pump 2 and a pack of Marlboro reds.” He told the woman at the counter.

The cashier grabbed the pack of cigarettes from the shelf and handed it to him. She rang up the total and told him the amount. As he dug some money out of his pocket and paid the cashier, Jack saw a flyer on the wall promoting Gotham City. It sparked a flicker of interest.

“Pfft. Nothing there but city scum and rich assholes.” He mumbled to himself as he left the store, dismissing the idea.

After he filled up his gas tank, he lit a cigarette and started the truck, continuing down the road. At this point he was about an hour away from home. Aside from the military, he had only traveled outside his hometown a few times and not very far. From here on he didn’t know what was ahead. He could only read the road signs and glance at his watch to see how much time had passed.

Jack groaned as he passed yet another billboard advertising Gotham. This had to be the fourth one since he left the gas station. It was like it was trying to tell him something. But he did not want Gotham to be his only option just because he didn’t know what else to do at the moment.

He’d heard many things about the city growing up. Some (usually people trying to get students to apply for Gotham University) said it was full of exciting opportunities and new experiences. Jack knew that was probably only true if you were wealthy or smart.

On the other hand he mainly heard it was crime ridden and dismal, full of corrupt cops and politicians, and just simply trashy. Jack didn’t know if he could handle city life, especially since he was still adjusting to being a civilian again.

He passed another sign and threw his hands up in frustration. He couldn’t give up this easily but he needed to figure this out pretty soon. Currently he had no place to go and he didn’t like the idea of being homeless for too long.

He had to look at the pros here. Renting a small apartment would be much easier than paying for a whole house in an obscure town and then there was the question of finding a house to begin with. If he went to Gotham, he could have a quiet life in an apartment all to himself. To him that seemed to be the best atmosphere for him to deal with all the trauma and grief.

“Where else am I gonna go? I’m not staying back home in that God forsaken place and I can’t just live in the middle of nowhere. Homeless… Ugh. Fine. If there’s nothing vacant and if it’s too expensive, then I’ll find somewhere else. This will give me a chance to start over.” Jack told himself as if to solidify his decision.

So after much debate with himself, Jack began the three hour drive to Gotham City with nothing to go by but signs and an old map he found in his glove compartment. It was getting late in the afternoon and with everything going on he was feeling exhausted and super drained. He had to smoke another cigarette and keep some music on just to stay awake and alert.

He also hadn’t eaten anything all day so hungry was an understatement. He stopped at another gas station along the way and bought a deli sandwich and some Goldfish to snack on.

Finally after a long, tiring journey up the interstate, Jack saw Gotham City’s skyline poke out over the horizon. He breathed a sigh of relief. He was still incredibly nervous about this but at least the driving part was over.

As he crossed the bridge into the city, he marveled at how big everything was. The largest city he’d ever been in was Atlanta when he was stationed at Fort Benning and that was just passing through.

Despite his anxiety, he was really looking forward to this new chapter. He was ready to move on with his life. He left his abusive homelife and got out of the military. Now it was time to focus on actual adult life. Becoming an adult while in the army did him no favors. It actually detached him further from everyone else.

This was going to be a major adjustment. That was for sure.

#don’t mind me just re reading #ledger joker #jack napier #crack a smile and cut your mouth

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dis0rderly-cl0wn-nerd · 5 days ago

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The chapter that changed everything 😔

Crack A Smile and Cut Your Mouth

Ledger!Joker Origin Story

Chapter Six - Injury

Warnings: Blood, gore

Chapter Summary: A surprise attack leaves Jack injured.

Author's Note: This is the chapter people! This is where things start to take a turn! We are finally getting to the part I actually want to write lol. I've managed to post 3 chapters this month. This is a huge win 🙌 But seriously, buckle in, this is a rough one. My poor Jack 😔

Taglist: @alittlesmartcookie @furisodespirit

If you would like to be added to the taglist please let me know! <3

< Previous - Next >

Jack gazed out the window at the vast desert sands with a mix of dread and disdain. As much as he hated this place, there was a familiarity to it and a feeling of…fondness? No, that wasn’t it. More like a fondness towards the few good memories that this desert held but a bitterness at all the bad.

This was Jack’s third tour in Afghanistan. Now holding the rank of Sergeant, he and another sergeant would be assisting their staff sergeant in leading a squad. This would be the first time he ever had any leadership so it did make him a bit nervous.

The platoon had just arrived at the base yesterday. In a few minutes they would be meeting to discuss objectives and meet with their squads. Stepping away from the window and collecting himself, Jack headed towards the back of the base where everyone else was. He did not need to be late. He hated getting fussed at.

After the higher ups gave a brief rundown of everything going on at the base and elsewhere, the squads met up. Jack didn’t speak much. He of course addressed the staff sergeant over him because he had to but he wasn't compelled to talk to the others. He gave a nod of acknowledgement here and there but nothing more. It wasn’t that he was annoyed or didn’t like them. He just never was a people person.

The other sergeant in his squad that he would be working with approached Jack. He stuck his hand out for him to shake and introduced himself.

“I’m Corey Davis.”

Jack shook his hand firmly. “Jack Napier. Nice to meet you.”

Davis smiled and moved on to talk to the other members of their squad. Jack observed him warily from afar. Davis had dark hair, a mustache, and light eyes. He was shorter than Jack but was well built and wiry. His demeanor seemed very friendly and sociable.

Great. Jack thought.

There was something about outgoing people that bothered him. Maybe because they made his quiet, reserved self uncomfortable. Whatever the reason, he wasn’t sure if he would get along with this Davis fellow.

Boy was he wrong. After a few days of getting to know each other, they found that they had a lot in common. It turned out Davis lived an hour away from where Jack did. They both grew up in a small town. They both skateboarded. They both had similar tastes in music. Needless to say, they quickly became close. It was like they had known each other their whole lives. They worked great together, allowing their squad to operate like a well oiled machine.

Even several months into the deployment the squad rarely ran into problems. So far this was turning out to be the best of Jack’s three tours. Sure there was the immense heat and the horror of war but that was given at this point. Now that he had someone to go through it with, it wasn’t as bad.

But just like previous deployments, everything could change in the blink of an eye.

…

Today they were traveling through dangerous enemy territory so they had to be cautious. Two squads went one route and another two went the other route. According to intel, aggressors wouldn’t be anywhere near them. As long as they moved quickly and stealthily, they would be fine.

Jack sat on one side of the humvee and Davis sat on the other. The driver and the staff sergeant were up front. Three other men were in the very back. The second vehicle was trailing along beside them.

So far the intel seemed to be accurate. The area was completely desolate.

“Smooth sailing, huh? Man, it’s been quiet today.” Davis chuckled.

“A little too quiet.” Jack muttered.

“Come on, Napier. Intel says we’re good. Ain’t nobody gonna bother us. We haven’t seen anything all day.”

“We still don’t need to let our guards down. This is dangerous territory, Davis.” The staff sergeant scolded from the front.

“Pshh. Why? God, this is boring.” A guy in the back whispered to another.

Jack heard and cast him a sideways glance. Just as he turned back around to face the front, it happened. Something hit the front end of the humvee and after a loud boom, it went up in smoke. The blast killed the staff sergeant and the driver, causing the vehicle to veer out of control and then stop abruptly.

The smoke billowed inside the humvee and the fire was starting to spread. The men in the back turned to Jack and Davis. The two sergeants were left in charge now. They were speechless for a brief moment, unsure what to do. Then out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw another explosive flying right towards them.

“Get out of here! Now!” He shouted.

He’d never opened a vehicle's door so fast in his life. He, Davis, and another man managed to get out in time. The other two were trapped in the back. There was no time to go back for them.

Jack ran with all the speed he could muster. It wasn’t enough. The vehicle exploded behind him, spewing shrapnel everywhere. A sharp chunk flew straight into Jack’s left cheek and lodged itself there. He screamed in pain and fell face first into the sand. Some glass from the humvee’s windshield strewn across the ground sliced his bottom lip.

He found the strength to sit up a little and for a few seconds, he just knelt there in shock, clutching his injured cheek as blood poured down his face. Panic started to seep in and it made him forget everything. Where he was, that they were under fire, and that he had to run. Now. His brain didn’t seem to register that.

His saving grace came when Davis ran to his side and helped him up.

“Jack! Snap out of it. We gotta go. Come on. We’re gonna make it.”

Jack jolted as he finally came to and followed Davis. They ran to the remaining vehicle as they made their way to safety. Once everyone left alive was in, the vehicle sped off, fleeing the scene like a bat out of hell.

Davis ushered Jack towards the back of the vehicle where the medics were. Jack was wincing in pain. He felt dizzy and struggled to walk without leaning on Davis’ shoulder. The other soldiers stared at the gory sight in horror. There was literally a huge piece of metal sticking out of the young sergeant’s face.

The two medics laid Jack on the floor and removed his gear, tossing it aside. Meanwhile, Jack felt like he was drowning in his own blood. He groaned and gripped the metal bars on the seats nearby tightly. His face burned with more intensity than the heat of the Afghan deserts. Out of all the pain his father put him through, nothing came close to what he was experiencing right now.

The medics assessed the wound and decided what needed to be done. They tugged on the metal to see if they could get it to move. It wouldn’t budge. Jack yelped at the sudden sharp pain.

“It looks like we can’t just pull it out, sarge. We’re gonna have to cut it out and stitch up the wound.” One medic explained as he took out his tools.

Jack grimaced but nodded faintly in understanding. Anything to get it out.

The medic began cutting with a scalpel as the other held Jack’s head still. Jack fought the urge to scream and groaned loudly instead. Each cut felt like fire. It was agonizing. He breathed in and out sharply, sounding like he was hyperventilating.

Finally the medic managed to get the metal out. Blood was splattered everywhere at this point. It was dripping from Jack’s chin down his shirt. As he took in a breath, he choked on the blood in his mouth. He rose up a little as a coughing fit ensued, spitting out blood onto the floor.

The medics eased him back down and wiped away the excess blood so they could suture the wound. Jack saw the needle and braced himself. This would definitely be the most painful part. Especially since his face was not numb in any way.

The first stitch was put in, causing him to cry out. He wasn’t expecting it to hurt that bad. He closed his eyes and tried not to cry but it was no use. The medic continued stitching as Jack whimpered and grunted in pain, tears streaming down his cheeks. His tough exterior had completely left the building.

“Last one.” The medic said as he put in the remaining stitch.

He cut the remaining thread and put the supplies away while the other medic picked the glass out of Jack’s lower lip and then wiped his bloody face with a cloth. The first medic grabbed a bottle of pills and a canteen from his bag. He shook two pills out into his hand.

“Take these. It’ll help with the pain.” He instructed Jack as he handed him the pills and the canteen.

Cringing at the metallic taste of blood lingering in his mouth, Jack took a swig of the water and swallowed the pills. The two medics left him alone and moved to the front of the vehicle to make sure no one else was injured.

Jack rested his head on his gear and turned onto his side, curling up into a ball. The burning in his cheek slowly began to fade out as the medicine started to take effect. He was so dizzy and disoriented from the shock and blood loss, he could barely keep his eyes open. Before he knew it, he was falling asleep.

He woke up some time later and groaned softly at the shooting pain returning to his face. He groggily sat up and looked around. It was dark inside and outside the vehicle. Davis was sitting nearby. He noticed Jack get up and turned to him with a concerned look in his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“I guess so…” Jack mumbled.

“We’re still an hour or so away from base. You should go back to sleep.”

“Can’t. I’m already up.”

Davis shook his head and held up his canteen. “You want some water?”

“I have some.”

“But you’re running low. You need to save it. Just take some of mine.”

Jack sighed and took the canteen from him. He took a few sips and then handed it back, relieved to have something to rinse his mouth. He knew he’d be tasting blood for weeks.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Davis asked.

“Yeah. I’m fine. But it really hurts to talk.”

“Oh. Sorry. I’ll shut up then.”

Jack smirked and took another sip of water. He laid back down again and reluctantly ran his hand over the wound. It felt puffy, hot, and swollen. Pain shot up his cheek as his fingertips grazed it. He just knew this was going to leave a scar.

His mind raced with questions. What would it look like? Would it be noticeable? Would this affect his mouth or how he ate? Should he see the doctor on base?

He sighed and decided to take Davis’ advice. This was a lot. He really needed to rest. He could process this later.

Jack turned on his side and resumed his sleeping position. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, listening to the steady hum of the humvee’s engine and the beating of his own heart. It helped lull him back to sleep. The pain and the worry slowly drifted away.

Sleep was awesome when he could get it. Most nights were a challenge for Jack. Lots of things kept him awake. Memories, nightmares, adrenaline… Something told him that from now on he was going to have a lot more of those sleepless nights.

#don’t mind me just re reading #one critique I do have about this chapter is that I glazed over the bond between jack and davis and all they went through together #I want to explore that more in a oneshot sometime #davis was such a good character and I didn’t utilize him!#ledger joker #jack napier #crack a smile and cut your mouth

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dis0rderly-cl0wn-nerd · 5 days ago

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Re reading this fic because I need some inspiration and I love Jack <3

Also I can’t believe I wrote this a year ago, time is flying 😭

Crack A Smile and Cut Your Mouth

Ledger!Joker Origin Story

Chapter One - Jack

Warnings: Child abuse, domestic violence, alcoholism

Chapter Summary: Jack is introduced and we get a glimpse into his childhood and teen years.

Author’s Note: I finally finished the first chapter and came up with a title! (Title may change because it’s kinda dumb. I was scraping my brain for ideas okay) Anyway the first chapter came out shorter than I expected but the next chapters should be a lot longer 🤞 I’m super excited about this story! I’ve been planning this for a while. I hope you enjoy <3

Next >

The cool night air blew in Jack’s face as he whizzed down the pavement on his skateboard. He was on the main road but he didn’t care. Nobody was out during this time of night.

The small town was quiet. Businesses were closed and porch lights were on. The only sounds to be heard were crickets chirping and the flickering gas station lights at the end of the road.

Jack came out here often to get away and clear his head. He loved to skateboard and he was good at it too. He didn’t like skating with the other kids in town so he stayed clear of the rink. The streets were his safe haven.

He glanced down at his watch and decided it was time to head home. His mom would be worried. He shifted his weight to his back foot on the tail of the board, braked, and turned around.

He dreaded the thought of going back. His father would be home. No doubt yelling at his mother for something she did “wrong.” There was no telling what kind of mess he would walk into once he got home.

He left the main road and turned onto his street. It wasn’t long before he reached his house. The house was one story tall and painted white with a front deck built by his father. The deck had withered and rotted with time. Some of the boards were missing. His father had yet to fix it. Their home was plain but got the job done for a family of three people.

Jack went around back where his bedroom window was. He pushed the window open and tossed his skateboard onto his bed. Then he hoisted himself up and climbed inside. He closed the window, listening intently to his parents in the kitchen.

Just as he predicted his father was shouting at his mother again. From the sound of his voice Jack could tell he was drunk. What else was new?

“Why is the food cold?!” His father yelled.

“You told me you would be home at 6. You got here at 9:30.” His mother told him calmly.

Jack heard a loud smack and his mother scream. That was his que. He cracked his door open and stuck his head out to see what was going on. His mother was on the floor and his father stood over her, beating and berating her. Jack saw enough and sprung into action.

“Leave her alone!” He shouted and shoved his father away.

The drunk then turned his anger towards Jack and shoved him to the ground. He kicked him in the stomach repeatedly. Jack grunted in pain. He assumed his usual position and curled into a ball to protect himself.

“Scott, no! Stop! Leave him out of this!” His mother cried but was ignored.

“Shut up, you stupid bitch!” Scott shouted and didn’t hold back beating his son.

Eventually he became bored and stopped. He turned to his wife and snarled, “I’m goin’ out. Next time you better do as I tell you.”

With that he stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Once Jack was sure he was gone, he uncurled himself and rolled onto his back. He closed his eyes and sighed. His mother, Jacqueline, sat upright and gazed at her son sadly.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Jack smiled softly. “I wanted to.”

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“Eh, I’ll probably have bruises later but I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.”

“I have every reason to worry about you. Come here.”

Jack crawled over to his mom and she pulled him into a hug. She kissed his cheek.

“I love you so much. I’m so sorry you have to deal with this. It isn’t your fault.”

“It’s not yours either, mama. He’s just an asshole.”

Jacqueline eyed him for cursing but agreed nonetheless. Jack rested his head on her shoulder. She stroked his long brown hair and laughed to herself.

“What?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You need a haircut.” Jacqueline told him and pointed to his curly strands cascading past his shoulder blades.

“Nope. I’m keeping it this way for as long as I can.”

“Uh huh. What are you gonna do when you enlist?”

“Cut it off since I have to. But once I get out I’m growing it back.”

Jacqueline shook her head. She glanced up at the time.

“You better get to sleep. It’s getting late.”

Jack nodded and helped his mother stand up. She kissed his cheek one more time and then they retreated to their bedrooms for the night.

Jack stripped down to just his t-shirt and boxers. After moving his skateboard from his bed to the floor, he climbed into bed and curled up underneath the covers. It felt good to finally lay down. He was exhausted.

It hurt a little to lay on his side because of the bruises that were now forming but he was used to it. There was rarely a night where Jack slept without any discomfort. His father had been beating him for as long as he could remember.

The booze wasn’t entirely to blame. Scott Napier was extremely short tempered and quick to violence. The alcohol only heightened it. How his mother ended up with him Jack never knew. Most likely it was one of those situations where someone doesn’t realize they’re in an abusive relationship until it’s too late.

Jack closed his eyes and tried to forget about his father so he could fall asleep. He often tried to block out the abuse but each time Scott beat him, it brought back the memories all over again. Sometimes in the form of nightmares and other times through random flashbacks throughout the day.

He was 17 now and becoming a young man but that didn’t stop him from wanting to curl up underneath his covers and cry himself to sleep like he did when he was younger.

He rolled onto his back and gazed at the ceiling, lost in thought.

“My leg hurts, Mommy.” Jack whimpered into his mother’s chest.

“I know, baby. Mommy’s doing the best she can.” Jacqueline said as she bandaged the cut on Jack’s small leg caused by another one of Scott’s violent outbursts.

She finished the wrap and kissed it. “There, all better.”

…

“Come here you little shit!” Scott shouted and grabbed Jack by his shirt.

He pulled him close and struck his face. Then he hurled him into the wall. Jack got his breath back and crawled underneath his bed. He gasped when Scott grabbed his ankle and dragged him back out. Scott kicked him in the side repeatedly and then resorted to using his fists. Jack cried and begged for him to stop.

“There you go with that crying again! You’re just like your fucking mother!” Scott bellowed and kicked him hard, knocking him over.

Jack curled in on himself and sobbed.

“Stay in here and cry then!”

The door slammed and Jack was alone.

Jack sat straight up and brought himself back to the present. He breathed in shakily and slicked his hair back. The memories always kept him awake when he should be sleeping. After taking a few minutes to calm himself, he was finally able to clear his head and lay back down. Before he knew it, the comforting embrace of sleep took over and Jack was out like a light.

#planning on doing some oneshots that go along with this fic after I get through a few chapters of blur the lines #ledger joker #jack napier #crack a smile and cut your mouth

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dis0rderly-cl0wn-nerd · 6 days ago

Text

basic human empathy has got to make a comeback divas

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dis0rderly-cl0wn-nerd · 8 days ago

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omg I totally had a request the other day but I didn't wanna put more on your plate but now that you said you wanted requests i wanna ask youuuu

what do you think of an artist reader asking J to pose for her, or maybe taking inspiration from one of the comics one the joker kidnapped someone and made them draw a comic book of them throughout the day, something like that where the joker can shine (id play into it a bit more humorous, but that's totally up to you!)

cheers!

Commission

Ledger!Joker x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joker kidnaps his favorite artist, you, and forces bribes you to paint him.

Author's Note: Dude I’m so sorry this took me so long to do this request! My sincere apologies 🙏 I have a habit of asking for requests when I shouldn’t. Anyway thanks for sending this in! I loved this idea! It was super fun to write <3

Taglist: @alittlesmartcookie @furisodespirit @lightsabergirl @gothic-aesthetic-gal @myassisasolarsystem

Ugh, why did everything always have to happen to you?

You were a renowned artist living in Gotham. Nearly every weekend you had some kind of showing or art exhibit. Tonight was no different.

You had a showing at Gotham’s Museum of Fine Arts. One of your paintings had been selected by the curator. Everything was going great until he showed up. He burst into the gallery with a few men, guns blazing, and terrified everyone.

Amidst the chaos and people running around, one of the goons grabbed you and dragged you towards the back exit. You tried to scream for help but the man clamped his hand over your mouth. You couldn’t fight off your attacker now matter how hard you tried. He threw you into the back of the van and then you blacked out after hitting your head.

Now you were trapped in a dark room, blindfolded and tied to a chair. You knew someone was in the room with you. You felt him hovering behind you, fidgeting with the ropes keeping you in place.

“Dum da da da dum…” He hummed as he untied them.

The blindfold was removed and a painted face came into view. It was the Joker. Your heart raced. What could he possibly want with you?

“Ah, there you are. Finally awake.” He said, smiling at you.

“Please…don’t hurt me. What do you want? I-I can’t give you much.” You sputtered nervously.

Joker laughed. “Don’t be frightened, y/n. I won’t hurt ya.”

“How…how do you know my name?”

“Ohhh I know lots about you, y/n! I’m a huge fan.”

“Wha- What?” You stammered.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know how famous you are. So humble.”

Oh. Right. ”I-I didn’t realize you were a fan. What do you want with me?”

“I just love your art style, y/n. I love it so much in fact, that I would like for you to paint me.”

“Wha… What? Wait, you did all of this just because you wanted me to paint you?!”

“Yeah.”

You facepalmed. “Are you kidding me? You could have just sent me a commission like everyone else! Why this?”

“Well then I’m not guaranteed you’ll do it, right? You could’ve turned me down. Nah, you’re gonna do it right in front of me. And I’m not letting you go until you finish.”

“But why?”

”Uhhh, cause I like your art. What’s so hard to understand?

You looked at him incredulously. He was actually serious.

Joker sighed. “I'll pay you.“

You crossed your arms. “How much?”

“Five thousand. Will that be enough?”

Your eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“What, that's not enough? Fine. Ten thousand.”

“No no! Five thousand is plenty. It’s more than enough.”

“Good. I’ll give it to you when the job is done. But not a penny until then.” He warned, wagging his finger.

You nodded dumbly, still bewildered at this whole situation.

Joker led you by the hand into another small, dark room. He flipped on a lightswitch, making you squint at the sudden brightness. When your eyes adjusted, you saw two chairs with a canvas and easel set up between them and an assortment of high quality painting supplies.

He gestured for you to take a seat behind the canvas. You obliged. He sat down across from you. You timidly picked up a sketching pencil and took a deep breath.

“So… Do you have any specific instructions before I get started?” You asked him.

“Nah. You can do it however you want, doll face.”

“Alright. Be still for a few minutes. I’ll do a rough sketch first and then paint over it.”

Joker sat up straight and kept still while you worked on the sketch. You’d seen him on TV many times before but never this close. You couldn’t help but take in his features.

He had a perfect masculine jawline and deep dark brown eyes. You also saw little hints of freckles through his patchy makeup. His bottom lip was split by a forked scar. His more pronounced scars that marred his cheeks were jagged and bumpy. One was longer than the other and looked more intentional. These scars were going to be the hardest but also the most interesting of his features to put to canvas.

Once you finished up the sketch, you put the pencils away and started grabbing the paint supplies you would need. “You can relax now. The sketch is done.”

Joker sank back into his chair and exhaled in relief. “That was hard work, doll.”

You rolled your eyes and squirted all the colors you would need out onto a pallet. “Where did you get all this stuff? And how did you know what to get?”

“Uh, I robbed a Michael’s and I already knew what to get. I’m a bit of an artist myself, you know.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that. So then why can’t you just paint your own self portrait instead of kidnapping me?” You grumbled.

Joker chuckled. “Because it wouldn’t be the same! You’ve got something special. There’s just something about your art that is so compelling.”

“Well, um, thank you. But I still don’t see why all of this was necessary…“

“Just paint, y/n.”

You took his advice and began the painting process. You painted around the sketch, creating a dark background. Then you moved on to his face. Ghastly white with messy menacing patches of black around his eyes and a bright pop of color on his red lips and scars. This was his warpaint. A clown gimmick that hid the danger of the man behind the makeup. With each stroke of your brush you made sure to capture his full intimidation.

Next was his hair. Despite how messy and greasy it was right now, you couldn’t help but find his curls kinda pretty. They did their own thing and it appeared that he made attempts to tame them. Joker was naturally brown headed. You could see that in his roots and the fading spots in the green dye. So you painted his hair brown first and then painted a layer of green over it, keeping his roots brown and leaving the rest of the dye patchy.

After his head was done, you moved on to his clothes. This would be the most detailed and meticulous part of the whole painting, aside from his scars. Those took you almost 30 minutes to do. Good thing you were only doing his bust so you wouldn’t have to worry about painting much of his clothing.

You went in order from the biggest part to the smallest, starting with his dark purple coat. Then you added in the thin strip of fabric that belonged to the hidden dark gray blazer he wore between his coat and the rest of his suit. Next you filled in his green vest and the bluish purple dress shirt underneath. Once that dried, you added in its hexagonal pattern. After that you painted the final piece of his clothing, his tie, and its stepped pattern.

You let everything dry and looked over it again and again to make sure you didn’t miss anything. Once it was dry, you added in some final touches like tiny highlights to his face. Since you were getting paid for this and it was The Joker you had to impress, this portrait had to be top notch quality.

Seeing that there was nothing left to do, you declared the painting finished and turned it around for Joker to see.

“Voila. Here it is. Your portrait. What do you think?” You asked, trying to play it cool but inside you were terrified. What if he didn’t like it?

Joker took the painting into his hands and examined it, his expression neutral. A smile slowly crept into his face the longer he looked. You were beyond relieved. Thank God he liked it.

“This is perfect. It really captures my likeness. Thank you, y/n.” Joker said sweetly, holding the painting close to his chest.

It hadn’t occurred to you until just then that he’d gone through all this trouble just to spend some time with you. His favorite artist. He did nothing but flirt with you all night. Why hadn’t you seen this sooner? Oh God. I hope he doesn’t try to do this again…

“Uh, listen. If you ever want me to paint something else, don’t do this again, okay? Just give me a call. I’d be more than happy to.” You offered.

Joker’s face lit up. “Really? Alright. Heh, I’ll admit this was a bit much. Anyway, here’s your payment. Five thousand big ones.” He opened up a briefcase next to him and revealed the stacks of money laying inside.

He handed it to you and set the painting down on the chair. You glanced over the money, not really bothering to count it. You just wanted to get out of here.

“C’mon, I’ll take you home. To, uh, make up for all this inconvenience.”

“Sure. Just- Wait. You know where I live too?!”

#ledger joker x reader #ledger joker x fem!reader #ledger joker #the dark knight #heath ledger #reader insert #my writing #image from pinterest

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