PART ONE

Hybristophilia...it's not exactly a wise trait to reveal if you're trying to appear normal. But, if you're looking for a way to get people to actively avoid you, then I've found admitting an attraction to a fictional, mass murdering psychopath who wears makeup definitely does the trick.

For someone like me, exclusion is a win. For someone like me, a woman who thoroughly enjoys her own company far more than anyone else's, this aloof, distant attitude is exactly what I've always needed to remain comfortable. Granted, while I do have a select few people I rather enjoy spending time with, for the most part, I find myself alone, in my room, avoiding the festivities of my two roommates, and the guests they have over.

So, finding myself in a rare circumstance where both my roommates were going to be gone for a week, I was planning to take full advantage of the situation. No, not with any wild parties, or sexy paramours...no, I was going to spend the entire week just how I liked it; isolated, and alone.

Sunday night found me in the kitchen cooking a hearty meal, waiting patiently for Chris to leave. Steve, our other roommate, had left early that morning, eager to spend his week of vacation with his long distance girlfriend. Chris had been called out of the city for work, and, though he was ready to leave hours ago, was not quite as eager to make the trip. But, alas, with a quick, one armed hug, he finally departed, leaving me as the only occupant within our small home. After placing the rigatoni in the oven to bake, I poured myself a glass of wine, and made my way to the couch, where my laptop was already set up and waiting for me.

Perhaps I should have been embarrassed; perhaps I should have felt some semblance of shame that I was an unemployed, young lady in an empty apartment, and instead of perhaps...I don't know...throwing a party, having a girls night, or, God forbid...making some sort of plan for my future...there I was, totally content, drinking a glass of white Pinot and reading fan-fiction.

Heath Ledger Joker fan-fiction, to be exact.

To be even more specific...dirty, arousing, Joker fan fiction that had me so wet and achy, a couple times I'd half seriously considered putting an ad on Craigslist, asking someone to help me live out my fantasy.

But of course, I never did. Despite my urges, I knew the reality of what I thought I wanted would be vastly different than what my imagination could create.

Besides, reality wouldn't have been as good anyway.

The fan-fiction, though it did help me to live out fantasies I couldn't physically experience safely, it definitely tipped my small crush into a full blown obsession. Fifteen years later, my body still pined for the fictional character I'd never have.

But hey...better to live in fantasy than die in reality.

Right?

I woke up early the next morning, still on the couch, a half eaten plate of rigatoni on the coffee table next to my laptop, still open from my searches the night before. I rolled my eyes before closing the tabs, feeling the same disappointment from the previous night wash over me. When it came to the Joker, my fantasies were very particular, and sadly, all the adult films I could find with him as the star were far from satisfying. Though I'd made this particular search multiple times, always with the same result, sometimes I just got so damn randy, I'd look again anyway.

Of course, just as all the other times, I found nothing but horrible acting.

Sighing, I grabbed the now oxidized food, and dumped it in the trash, trying to ignore the churning anxiety at the waste. It took me about two hours to do a clean of the apartment, and, satisfied I'd done enough for the day, I settled back into my laptop, eager to read more. That was one thing that never disappointed...even though I had to sift through lots of options, there was always guaranteed to be fan-fiction that could help satisfy me.

Or, make me pine more...sometimes, I genuinely wasn't sure which.

I read all day. Only stopping for one smoothie for lunch, I delved deep into the world of Joker, subconsciously rubbing my thighs together the entire time. By the time 6pm rolled around, I was almost shaking with need.

Fuck. It'd been a while since I was able to read so much, uninterrupted, for so long. I'd forgotten how desperate it made me. Once again, the idea of Craigslist popped into my head, but I quickly dismissed it.

I got up to smoke a bowl, something I'd been doing all day, when all of a sudden, an idea started forming in my head. A sly smile made it's way onto my face, and I bit my lip.

Nobody was here...why not?

Instead of smoking, I reached into my mini fridge and pulled out a small, black baggie. Inside, there was one, bright red gummy, in the shape of a skull. I popped it in my mouth, and practically moaned in pleasure.

Edibles sure had come a long way taste wise.

This was a strong one in particular. Though chronic use over the years had certainly raised my tolerance, 500mg of pure THC distillate was enough to seriously fuck me up. Which was exactly what I wanted.

For those who maybe have never tried, THC turns into a mild hallucinogen when eaten in high enough quantities. So...you can probably see where I was going with this.

I ate dinner quickly, and set myself up in my room; laptop, bottle of water, The Dark Knight playing in the background...and of course, my special toy. It was quite an expensive purchase, but well worth the money.

Warming up was far from necessary. I almost flushed at my own readiness when the toy literally just slipped in, my juices practically dripping down my thighs. I leaned my head back and turned it on the lowest setting.

FUCK.

That was a quick one.

I held the vibrations away from my sensitive bundle of nerves for about a minute, before letting it slide back into place, turning the vibrations up one notch.

My refractory period was much shorter with this particular fictional character than it was with any of the real men I'd tried out. Something I'd had to try seventeen different times before I'd realized my sad reality;

Nobody would ever compare to my fantasy.

I came four - maybe five - times before I finally couldn't take anymore. I was almost at the point of pain, yet still, I couldn't help that yearning. The edible, while not actually inducing any real, psychedelic hallucinations, did increase my libido to a wild point, the image of his face on the TV only fueling the fire. My GOD I fucking wanted him. More than anything I'd ever wanted in my entire life.

Honestly, as bittersweet as it was, him being a fictional character has always been a blessing. While at first, this was a fact that physically pained me to think about, eventually, it turned into a sense of relief. Fantasy was always better than reality, and the reality was...a girl like me would never survive a man like The Joker. Bad boys are BAD news, and he was just...beyond bad. I shuddered at the thought, my intoxicated brain swimming with all the bad things such a bad man could to do.

I shook the thoughts from my head, and went to the bathroom, cleaning both myself and the toy. After returning to bed, sleep came rather quickly. My dreams were...vivid, to say the least.

And for me...vivid dreams would have to do.