why aren't you laughing? (English)

Joker/Harley, mainly DCU but it's a mixture.
            + short Harley/Ivy
Angst, dark, probably disturbing.
Trigger warning: everything.
Physical, verbal and sexual abuse, violence, aggression,
mental illnesses, unhealthy/toxic relationship...
(But it's not even remotely as tough as it should be.)
(( Oh and it's not even that good, either. Not bad but has its weaknesses. ))

The night fell on Gotham City like the dark veil of a grieving widow. Although the shady folk didn’t restrain themselves at daylight either, it was in the darkness where crime truly flourished. The hooded figures hiding in lightless areas because of the poorly placed streetlamps carried knives, if not guns, but it had also happened that stray dogs with, most probably, rabies had tore apart children hurrying home. Most youngsters didn’t stay out after nightfall, and if, for some reason, they could only get home later, the worried fathers sat in the windows, scanning the streets, and the troubled mothers paced around the rooms, wringing their hands.

Under the veil of darkness, a disheartened and scantily-clad Harley Quinn trudged aimlessly. She had been vaguely strolling around the rain-drenched streets since Mr. J kicked her out (literally). In the distance, screams and the symphony of sirens mixed together, a dog was howling somewhere, and the smell of rotten garbage spread in the air. Harley passed an alleyway, in the far-end corner of which a man sat collapsed inwards, with his head dropped on his chest, covered in a few layers of raggedy clothes, and holding onto a bottle of alcohol of some sort. The usual.

Just like the situation. Harley wasn’t surprised to find herself on the street again. And as always, she had first realized that she was hopelessly in love with a psychopathic clown, and that the situation in its current state was not good at all, then, when she had cooled down a bit, she had started to wonder about what she had done wrong. Finally she had come to the conclusion that Batman was to blame for everything. He was the one standing in the way of her happiness. Their happiness. So she had started to conceive a plan against the vigilante bat.

During the flow of her thoughts, a voice kept cawing in the back of her brain ‒ the voice she was still unable to fully repress, however hard she tried and tried and tried: the voice of the annoying doctor with the ponytail ‒, warning her with all those psychiatric terms, abuse, trauma, psychosis, all that she still remembered or had ever known, but mostly she just felt a red exclamation point flickering in her head. And the worst part was that she knew the reason for it very well. No, the worst part was that she had tried to turn off the exclamation mark entirely, kill off all the warnings from herself, because she loved that man. He had seduced her impossibly on those nights in Arkham.

(That’s what psychopaths do, the voice croaked.)

She wondered what their future could be like if others ‒ yes, yes, the only obstacle was others ‒ wouldn’t stand in their way. The laughter of Joker-kids would be filling their stolen house, and Harlequin-children would be accidentally backflipping into daddy’s box of guns, from which Harley would fish them out while he would murmur something about his newest plans of the hunt for Batman, crouching over his desk.

However idyllic this image seemed, Harley couldn’t indulge in it fully this time because she heard a sharp creak nearby. She jerked her head and spotted a silhouette. For a few seconds they were just staring at each other ‒ although Harley couldn’t see who it was, she knew from the figure, she thought, she assumed‒

The other woman turned around and sprinted off in the slushy alleyway, and Harley ran after her without thinking (that’s how it usually was with her). Before the wall at the end of the street a thick vine began to grow out of the ground, and by the time she got there, it was tall enough that she could hop on top of it. Harley also hung onto the plant with an elegant jump, and started to climb up towards the woman.

She yelled, “Hey, stop! What’s with the running?”

The woman hopped off from the vine onto a rooftop. Harley right after her. To her surprise, the race didn’t continue on: when she straightened herself, the “stranger” was standing on the top of the building with her back to Harley.

Harley walked closer. “Ive?”

“Harls,” nodded the other, but kept her eyes on the view. “Frank barfed up the left thumb of that bubbly kid.”

The blonde giggled.

“Actually, I’m here to take you home,” stated Ivy as she turned to face Harley.

“Ive… Mr. J‒”

Ivy rolled her eyes and sighed. “Believe me, I’m perfectly fine without any kind of human company, but you know, for some reason I kinda like you, actually. Come home with me, Harley. I know you know Joker isn’t good to you.”

“He must be worried now about where I am,” said Harley.

(He probably hasn’t even noticed I was gone.)

Ivy looked at her with a raised eyebrow, and radiated the same thought that had just run through Harley’s mind.

“Okay, okay, he might not be worried really,” admitted Harley. “But only because he knows I can take care of myself.”

Ivy grunted and shook her head. Harley stepped even closer to the woman, closing the distance between them, to place a hand on her waist.

“Look, we’re happy, and it must be real hard for you to accept. Jealousy is a normal human reaction‒”

“I’m not jealous.”

Harley stroked Ivy’s cheek. “If you say so.”

Ivy leaned in and kissed the blonde’s tempting lips, to which she hummed delightfully. “I just want you to be truly okay. When you realize what you’ve gotta do, you know where to find me.” And with that, Ivy turned around, walked to the edge of the roof, and jumped off.

Harley stood around for a while after, thinking, keeping two fingers on her lower lip softly as if she was trying to make the feeling of the gentle kiss stay there, then she too went off, jumping and bouncing on the wall of the building.

The hyenas, drooling and snarling, welcomed her back in front of the door at home, and judging by their empty bowls, they were probably contemplating whether to chew her or not. After all, no one would punish them for it. But Harley was prepared for this phenomenon ‒ Joker often forgot about the poor animals when he immersed himself in his plans ‒ so she dug up some bones and rags of meat from trash cans on her way home, now throwing them to the hyenas.

She scratched their heads. “My lil’ babies, yeah, you’re such good boys, aren’t youuu…” Usually they wouldn’t tolerate this kind of degrading behavior, after all they were the muscle here, on this they were in agreement, the two of them, but now they were so desperate to wolf down the tasty-looking treat that they ignored the movements of the small hand on their heads.

The front door swung open, filling the narrow, puddly street with lamp light. “Harley?” Joker croaked. “Why are you feeding the hyenas?”

“Well… they were hungry.”

He sighed. “How can you ruin everything twice in just one day?”

Harley approached with a big smile on her face, wanting to press a kiss on the white cheek, but Joker grabbed her shoulder and pushed her through the door before slamming it shut. He marched straight to his desk and dropped down to the chair. Before returning to his work, he grinned at Harley expectantly.

“Where is my dinner, Harls?”

Her smile grew even bigger, and she stroke a sexy pose. “It’s ready, Mr. J,” said Harley in a charming voice, tracing her fingers along her side.

Joker pondered the option for a bit, but finally just grumbled. “Stupid. I mean food.”

She shook her head smilingly, and disappeared into the kitchen. Poor puddin was so tired after having worked the whole day. But Harley knew what she could do to improve his mood. She put a pot of water on the stove, and waltzed back into the room.

“Mr. J, guess what happened while I was away!” Joker didn’t reply, it was a possibility that he didn’t even hear her, so Harley hopped on his table. “I met Ivy.”

He growled.

“And Ivy wanted to take me away from you, and she kissed me, but I said I’m staying with you,” said Harley proudly. This definitely proved her endless love for him. He might even propose to her right here and now.

Joker lifted his head. “Oh so the little Harley Quinn thinks she’s better than her master now.” He jumped up from his chair and started to pace around the room. “I know why you’re telling me this, you wanna brag and glow, and rub the competition in my face.” He was gesturing wildly and his eyes were flashing dangerously. “Unfortunately it so happens that I couldn’t care less. Go, go wherever you want. Your path is always gonna get you back to me in the end.”

He wasn’t even talking to Harley anymore, just to the general nothingness. The continuation of the monologue trailed from paths to Gotham, then vengeance and righteousness, punctuated with symbols and metaphors all along.

(The beginning of a psychotic episode, the voice noted inside Harley’s brain.)

When Harley woke from her thoughts, she suddenly found herself across Joker’s bloodshot eyes. “She kissed you. What shall we do about that?” He licked his lips. “I’m gonna teach you something now.”

He grabbed her and knocked her down to the floor.

“Mr. J, I declined‒” A loud snap interrupted the sentence: Joker’s hand on Harley’s cheek. Her head hit the ground.

“You’re mine. And now you’re gonna learn what that means.”

He pulled a knife from the pocket of his purple pants. As he opened it, Harley’s body trembled with fear.

“You don’t have to do this, Puddin…” But Joker, ignoring her desperate words, or, which seemed more probable, completely losing touch with his surroundings, he crouched down next to the small, shaking body, and tore down Harley’s top with a big grin.

Joker licked his lips, and, pinning her to the ground, he dipped the blade into Harley’s shoulder. “No one’s touching my Harlequin. You’re mine.”

And upon hearing these words, Harley found a strange sort of solace. “I’m yours,” she whispered.

Joker froze, and was staring at Harley for a while. Before throwing the knife away, he wiped the blood off of it on her bra. He stood up, and glared at the woman sprawled out on the floor. “Pathetic,” he mumbled quietly.

Harley let the comment past. This only proved one thing, and she was rather happy about it.

(He’s experiencing the outside world, the episode is near its end.)

But the last act was just about to take place.

Unmoving, Harley blinked up at the Joker towering above her. Purple suit with a vest, white skin, red grin, green hair… undeniably captivating.

Everyone in the institute had been calling him a monster, and the workers had been terrified by the thought of ever having to work with him, still, when Harley had volunteered for the task, she had been lobbying for long months in order to reach her goal before actually achieving it. There was something about the man from the first time she saw him ‒ casually lying on his bed with his arms under his head, even when locked in a cage it had seemed obvious that he was in charge here ‒ which she had first acknowledged as professional curiosity, and even though it might have been just that, really, one thing was sure: Joker had managed to swipe her off her feet quickly and skillfully ‒ she had been floating since then.

The man finally moved. “If the dinner offer from before still stands, or if not, for that matter… I’m now taking you up on it.” A big grin grew on his face while he kneeled down.

After unbuckling his belt, he grabbed Harley’s arms and pushed them above her head. He stroked her tensed body with the belt, then striked once, as a test. Harley screamed, and tears filled her eyes. He, taking it as an act of encouragement, ripped the bra off of her. Cackling, he hit her again with the belt, this time on her round, tight breasts he had freed. She replied with screams and crying once again, and started to mumble things like “please stop,” to which Joker was just smiling even wider.

“There’s nobody else who could teach you where you belong like I do. This is what you need. You’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” cried out Harley.

The sound of the next clashes got lost in and mixed with the laughter of Joker and the wailing of Harley, up to a point when, her body now swollen in multiple spots and covered in purple bruises, her crying turned into laughter. As Joker pulled down his pants and sank his fingers into Harley’s scars, preventing her from moving, their loud, manic guffaw filled the house.