#Harleen is the only one that gets Pamela and is actually able to help her deal with stuff

[atelier-melvalda]

She gets her like no one else ever did

[froot-batty]

next batch of designs are done! gotham city sirens time >:) blurbs about them under the cut, along with explanations of flags and neurodivergencies!

Pamela Isley came from a rural flower farm a long ways from Gotham. Her parents let her run wild from a very young age, and one of her favorite places on their property to go was the pond, deep in the woods, where everything grew just a bit too tall and nothing looked quite as it should've. Pamela didn't know that this pond was actually highly polluted by the dumping of experimental chemicals from a nearby "research" laboratory. She thought being able to communicate with the plants - the Green, she called it - was completely normal.

...Until the people from that laboratory heard about the mysterious girl helping the plants grow stranger. They came to Pamela's parents to ask if it would be possible to study it, and they, not realizing what exactly that meant, agreed. They whisked it away to a facility in Gotham, where Pamela would end up never seeing it's parents again.

She was kept there for the rest of her childhood and into her adulthood, being experimented on until she twisted into the plant beast that she is today. When she escaped, it came after years of hiding the true strength of her powers, so she could build them up enough to turn the facility to rubble.

(It is AroAce, Agender, and Intersex)

Harleen Quinzel always had trouble controlling her impulses. Coming from a very wealthy, very upper-crust family, any step out of line was harshly corrected by either of her parents. As a child she didn't know any better, but after years and years of repression coming from her family, she eventually clammed up and tried to fit into their perfect little mold. This included going to medical school, though she did at least get to pick something she was genuinely passionate about - psychology.

Harley was finally living on their own by the time they started working at Arkham, though they'd not yet broken out of that mental control their parents still had over them. Being in Arkham was like being on an alien planet. They had come from a world where everyone was fake, and Arkham seemed so...real. Talking with their patients opened their mind up even further. Even if what they did was violent, or utterly nonsensical to everyone else, insanity seemed like it was a sort of freedom that Harley never had.

This was compounded by it meeting the Joker. He saw that piece of it that wanted, desperately, to get free, and through their sessions he was able to get into it's head and...push it over the edge, so to speak.

(Harley and the Joker are not explicitly romantically involved in this, I should mention. They've got a weird queerplatonic thing going on. Also they're not toxic they're BFFs forever)

(They are Pansexual, Genderfluid, and have ADHD and Borderline Personality Disorder)

Selina Kyle grew up like an alley cat on the streets of Gotham. With two addict parents in the Narrows who cared very little about her, she was virtually homeless, with how little time she spent at home and how much she spent wandering the dangerous streets. It was in the Narrows that she met one of her closest childhood friends, Harvey Dent, and through him, the elusive Bruce Wayne.

The three of them were thick as thieves all through her childhood, though began to drift away when college time came around. Bruce had up and left the moment he turned 18 without any real warning to the two of them, and Harvey was off to college to try and become a lawyer. This left Selina all alone, once again.

But she had made a pact to herself. She didn't want to live on the streets of Gotham forever. She had started pickpocketing from a very young age, so she would just expand her skills - become Gotham's cat burglar. It started out as only a way to pay her bills, but she found she grew addicted to the feeling of it; the freedom of being able to slip into wherever she wanted and make some poor, rich fool a million dollars short. It was a sort of revenge for her (and the regular cash flow didn't hurt).

She was surprised when Bruce came back to Gotham and tried to reconnect with her. They hadn't talked in over a decade, but they found themselves reconnecting with surprising ease. Their close friendship would drive Harvey mad with jealousy, but neither of them realized that until it was too late.

The scar on her face is from Harvey's attempt on her life, after he became Two-Face.

(She is a Lesbian)

[nobodyfamousposts]

Miraculous Ladybug/DC - Adoption AU

There seems to be a lot of Miraculous/DC crossover ideas, often with Adrien and/or Marinette getting adopted into the Batfamily.

Here is my take:

So it turns out that apparently Gabriel had family he tries to avoid and altogether pretends don’t exist. 

And it turns out the family in question he’s particularly wanting to keep out of his life and away from his family is Harley Quinn.

To be fair, they weren’t close to begin with. Then there was the whole thing with Joker and her stint as a villain. After that, Gabriel cut off all contact and moved to Paris.

Harley gets why. She doesn’t like it, but she gets it. She’s made mistakes and is trying to do better. She understands if Gabriel isn’t feeling all that forgiving or willing to reconnect. And she is fine with that, really.

What she is NOT fine with is discovering Mr. No-fun lost his wife in mysterious circumstances and has responded by not only isolating himself, but his son as well. His son who is a genuinely sweet and wonderful kid, and deserves so much better than being kept trapped in a quiet and lonely old mansion every day.

So she does what any good aunt would do if they’re a psychologist who used to be an underling and abuse victim for a psychotic clown whom she’s recently escaped from, found herself a girlfriend, and is past the point of having kids of her own.

She steals Adrien.

Well, from the mansion at least. Only from there. Not wanting to take him away from what little social life he’s managed to make so far despite Gabriel’s best efforts, Harley has them all stay in Paris. She even buys a nice house in a good district with money that was totally not stolen from Gabriel on her way out *coughcough*. Once set up in the new home, she proceeds to take Adrien there where she can dote on him like proper family and give him some of that affection he’s been so desperate for.

The wax figure of Adrien has been left in his place in the mansion.

Gabriel has yet to notice.

As has anyone else. (They’ve had at least 3 photoshoots so far with just the wax figure.)

Ivy finds the whole thing questionable but comes to see that Adrien is a sweet boy with a desire to do good even if he doesn’t necessarily know how or the best way to do so. She decides she can “raise him right” and mold him into a proper young man who uses his resources to help the environment. So she starts having him do gardening with her.

Adrien is...actually okay with this whole setup. Plus he went from no mom to TWO moms! Who spend time with him! And are involved in his life! And let him see his friends! And he actually gets to leave the house without a bodyguard tailing his every move—which turns out to be because Ivy is able to use her plants to keep an eye on him in a much less obtrusive manner, but eh...details. He’s essentially not-so-reluctantly kidnapped. He COULD escape at any point. He’s Chat Noir after all. But even if he wasn’t, it wasn’t like Ivy and Harley were going out of their way to keep him locked up or anything. The worst they did was give him a curfew—which when comparing a few hours of free time with an expectation to return by a set time vs a set schedule with only one hour of free time maybe worked in somewhere, was hardly something he was going to fight.

The fact is that he’s doing well under their care. Harley shares his sense of humor. Pamela nurtures his creativity. He gets support and encouragement to be more assertive. They actually WANT to talk to him and hear about his day. They WANT to be affectionate with him and have dinners together. And he just soaks up their attention and affection like a sponge and responds in kind.

Under their care, Adrien changes a bit. He speaks out more and makes it known when he’s unhappy or uncomfortable with something. He does not let people just touch him when he’s uncomfortable. If anything, he’s doing more touching and initiating conversations without fear of appearances. Nino gets bro hugs. Kim gets bro hugs. All the guys in class get bro hugs. Marinette also gets bro hugs—though he doesn’t hug her for too long since she seems to overheat easily.

Adrien is really enjoying this.

Even better, his moms somehow get jobs in the area.

Pamela either becomes a biology teacher at the school or opens a nursery. If she does open a nursery, Marinette becomes a regular customer on principle. She and Ivy bond. They trade gardening tips. Marinette is surprisingly helpful in keeping pests away from her plants for reasons Ivy doesn’t quite know. All around, Paris suddenly starts becoming a bit more green…and without the eco-terrorism. It helps that Adrien’s social media starts featuring him planting trees and taking care of plants, which is encouraging other people to follow suit.

Harleen becomes a school counselor. At Adrien’s school. Where she takes full advantage of the opportunity to embarrass him in full “overly affectionate mom” mode. Adrien is too happy to be embarrassed. Anyone who actually ends up laughing at him comes to regret it when Harley picks apart their psychological issues.

The new moms evaluate his friends.

Nino passes. Flat out. He got akumatized trying to throw their boy a birthday party? He also arranged an impromptu house party for Adrien the one chance he got? YES. THIS is someone he needs in his life!

Alya gives them concern given her Lois Lane levels of getting into trouble mixed with sheer lack of self preservation. Her tendency to jump into matters and reveal things or trust things without thinking also has them concerned.

Chloe has potential, but needs a good few months of therapy as far as they’re concerned.

Lila is banned from coming within ten feet of Adrien. It would have been fifty, but Adrien refused to take a killer plant that big and risk anyone thinking it’s an akuma.

Marinette passes after they have a sit down talk with her to get to know her better. Harley notes her anxiety issues and helps her to be able to avoid panicking. Ivy likes Marinette’s energy, and her garden is impressive. She gives her approval of Marinette courting their son.

Marinette: Wait—what?

And because they’re actually good moms, they figure out fairly quickly that their new son is the leather-suited catboy running around protecting Paris.

Harley: HOW DO PEOPLE NOT KNOW THIS?!

Adrien: Magic?

They have a bit of difficulty for the next few fights with the rather overprotective mothers trying to interfere in akuma fights, causing more confusion than anything until Adrien asks them to stop. They don’t, of course, but they at least let him try to handle things.

All in all, they make for a nice little family.

But there’s only so much two moms can do. And with Gabriel pretty much not involved, they’re limited in options. So after a while, they decide that Adrien needs a good father figure.

Adrien: But I have a father...

Harley: I said a GOOD father figure.

But who to choose?

Bats? “Oh god, no! Why would you inflict that level of broodiness in our child?”

Joker? “Sure! The best way to teach him important life skills is to have someone to test them on as an example. Like the best weak points! And the effects of blood loss! And how to hide a body!” “We could just use Gabriel for that and save on travel time!”

Superman? “The world isn’t ready.”

They finally come to a decision.

Which is how Nightwing finds himself tied up and dragged off to Paris to be made part of this weird little makeshift family.

Pamela: Why him?

Harley: He got the killer Robin from ‘murdery’ to some semblance of being an actual semi-healthy child with only some violent tendencies. He’d make a good father figure!

Pamela: But wasn’t that an alternate timeline—

Harley: A GOOD father figure.

Pamela: ...fine.

Nightwing: Wait—what?

Naturally, he’s confused. He tries to contact Batman to let him know what’s going on and what Ivy and Harley are up to because they’re in Paris for some odd reason and they have a kid he’s pretty sure isn’t theirs. Batman, on the other hand, is more concerned with all the crazy magic shenanigans in Paris that the League somehow doesn't know about and can’t get any accurate information on. So he pretty much tells Nightwing to stay with them since he’s already there and they have room for him anyway so it’ll be easier.

Nightwing: I'm telling you, they've captured me, dragged me off to Paris, and they have this little house with a kid—

Batman: Good, then you have a place to stay while you investigate the anomalies in Paris.

Nightwing: Bruce, I don't think you're hearing me...

Adrien: (Just pats him on the arm sympathetically)

Harley: (Hugs Nightwing) Looks like we've got Batdaddy's approval! You're part of the family now!

Nightwing: I will do whatever you want. Just don't call him that again.

To be fair, it is Batman, so he probably knows Harley and Ivy aren’t an issue at this point, but still!

…At least he gets his own room…

Nightwing isn’t sure what to think. On the one hand, he knows he shouldn’t be encouraging this. On the other hand, Harley and Ivy aren’t actually doing anything bad. And if anything, taking care of the kid has been good for them. Plus the kid seems happy with them, at least. It’s...weird, certainly, but he goes along with it. (Read: He folds to the kitten eyes.)

Then he finds out said kid is a superhero in a city regularly attacked by a supervillain who transforms and controls people by manipulating their emotions—which the League somehow has not been aware of despite it happening in PARIS.

Needless to say, he isn’t pleased.

I'm just imaging Dick Grayson interacting with other adult figures in Paris. And really, just Dick's response to everything in Paris and how things are being handled.

"So...you're telling me no one has tried to track down where the magic butterflies are coming from?"

"Um..."

"The governmental body hasn't initiated any policies to try to prevent akumas?"

"Well..."

"Set up an alert and evacuation system so people know where to go or not go?"

“…”

“Do I want to know what you people actually do in case of an emergency?”

“Probably not.”

Much like Ivy and Harley, he gets a day job to help out. There are two potential options for him.

He becomes a teacher at the school and takes over running gym class, which he uses to keep the kids in shape, teach them self defense, and help them work out some of their tension and emotions through physical activities and a good listening ear. His interactions with the kids would be something to see. Even better for his interactions with Damocles and Bustier. Because no, the events of the Ladybug episode would NOT have happened if he was there.

Lila: (Sobs) Ow! Ow! The pain! How could Marinette do this to me?

Dick: I’m not seeing any injuries.

Lila: I don’t bruise easily. They just haven’t appeared yet.

Dick: Even so, there are no abrasions. No swelling. No indications of a broken bone or sprain. Not even any marks to show where you fell.

Lila: It’s internal!

Dick: Then you need to go to a hospital to be checked out and have the extent of your injuries noted.

Lila: I wouldn’t go that far—

Dick: And your mother will be contacted and told to meet us there.

Lila: Well—

Dick: And of course we’ll be holding off on any punishment until we have a list of your injuries and a thorough investigation is completed.

Lila: But—

Dick: And just to keep you safe, I’ll be staying with you the whole time. We wouldn’t want anymore “accidents”.

Lila: ….Dammit.

OR

He joins the police force. Just for shenanigans in his interactions with Roger. Maybe helping the force to be more effective so they can actually HELP during akuma fights instead of simply serving as a temporary distraction.

Either way, he’s a positive role model for Adrien. The three of them working together help Adrien to maintain a positive and altogether healthier state. They give him more jokes and puns to work with—because that has long since been Nightwing’s area of expertise. They give him advice in wooing his lady love. They address the “just a friend” issue. They teach him self defense and helpful fighting techniques. They curb the “self-sacrificing” tendency he’s developed. They encourage him in his goals and self discovery now that he has the freedom to actually try.

Despite the weirdness of the situation, Adrien is actually happier than he has been in a long while.

Which is made ever more clear at a particular moment when he’s leaving for school one morning.

“Bye, Mom! Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!”

Harley sniffles and wipes a tear with a tissue she pulled out of her sleeve. “It feels like just yesterday that I stole him away from the mansion.”

“Then what does that make your kidnapping me?” Dick asked, sardonically. “This morning?”

“Don’t act like you’re not proud.” Ivy snarked.

Oh, he was. Immensely so. But of course he wasn’t going to admit it and give them the satisfaction.

[peppersonironi]

Batfam/Avengers Crossover Chapter Four: Growing Suspicions

Tagging (Let me know if you want to be tagged): @the-fair-maiden-of-fandom

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Category: Gen

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types

Relationships: Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne, Natasha Romanov & Damian Wayne, Clint Barton & Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tim Drake & Duke Thomas, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Dick Grayson/Wally West, Roy Harper/Koriand'r/Jason Todd,

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Selina Kyle, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Barbara Gordon, Justice League (DCU), Alfred Pennyworth, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Clint Barton, Thor (Marvel), Bruce Banner, Peter Parker, Alfred the Cat (DCU), Bat-Cow (DCU), Goliath (DCU), Selina Kyle’s Cat Isis, Kate Kane (DCU), Duke Thomas,

Additional Tags: Batbrothers (DCU), Avengers Meet The Batfam, MCU/Batfam crossover, Crossover, no beta we die like robins, rated T for Jason’s language, I bleeped it out though. Just to be safe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, canon? What’s canon?, Deaf Clint Barton,Deaf Character, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Happy Batfamily (DCU), Birdflash and joyfire are implied/referenced,

Summary: After some questionable comments from Jason regarding murder, some of the Avengers are (understandably) freaked out and untrusting towards the bats. They decide to research their hosts.

Natasha stood to the side as Tim Drake and Stephanie Brown finished sparring. Everyone else was either watching or warming up. Natasha was part of the former.

Their skill was undeniable. She had no doubt that if it came to a real fight, she might not win. They had fought hard for almost five minutes, though Nat could tell it was all in good fun. Their looks of concentration did not hide the easy-going eyes and smiles.

Natasha was honestly unsure of who would win, but then Stephanie pulled out of a flip a split second early and delivered a kick to Tim’s chest. A moment later she had used his off-balance to bring him to the floor. He quickly surrendered when she sat on him with her forearm to his throat.

“That was an interesting kick,” Tim said as Stephanie helped him up. “I wonder who you learned it from.” He glanced over his shoulder to glare at a smirking Damian.

“I’m sorry Drake, is there a problem? Aren’t we all supposed to help each other improve our technique?” Damian was smirking even more at that point.

Tim snorted then walked off to get some water, grumbling as he went.

Stephanie laughed. “Sore loser!” She high fived Damian.

“Could I perhaps have a turn,” Natasha asked when no one seemed to be ready immediately to fight.

Steve stepped forward. “Shall we?”

Natasha groaned inside. Steve was a decent fighter, especially with his shield, but she had been looking forward to a challenge.

Natasha nodded. “Sure, I’d like a warm-up.” This got some chuckles from the teens.

They faced each other and started to circle for a few seconds. When Nat grew bored, she darted forward and struck his shoulder. He twisted and she used it to strike the back of his knee. She delivered a kick to the back of his head and he was on the ground a moment later.

There were several appreciative claps and laughs from the kids. The rest of the Avengers just nodded. They were used to Natasha beating them up.

“Someone needs a better opponent,” Bruce Wayne said. He didn’t smile, but there was a slight upturn on the corner of his mouth. “Damian, why don’t you take a turn. I know you’ve been itching for a fight.”

The boy smiled dangerously, and several of the Avengers laughed. They underestimated him - most likely due to his incredibly short stature - unlike Natasha. There was something strange about him, She had sensed it from the moment she’d laid eyes on him. And she hadn’t forgotten that he was dangerous.

Damian strolled forward and took his position. Natasha followed suit. A moment later Dick gave the mark to start.

Damian was fast . He sprinted forward in an instant and struck Nat’s gut. She barely managed to block, and wasn’t able to dodge the next blow, this time to her shin. She darted out with a counterblow, but he stepped out with his back leg, bringing his arm up to block. A split second later his back leg darted out to land a blow on the back of Natasha’s knee, bringing her down. He smoothly transitioned into bringing a knee up and jumping into a spinning kick landing at Natasha’s head.

Natasha was on the ground for a moment before she rose and resumed her atack. Damian flipped away before advancing once again. He unleashed a sequence of torso blows followed by a front handspring finished with a double kick. Natasha spun to the side and attacked him with multiple strikes across his shoulders and head.

She could tell his style easily. He stuck with torso and leg strikes due to his height, and only used roundabout kicks, which utilized his leg strength. But he was also holding back. Some of his blows were clearly designed to kill, but had been modified to be non life threatening. Perhaps what had been implied earlier was true: the kid had killed.

The fight dragged on, and Natasha couldn’t find an opening. Damian was ruthless in his attacks, and his form impeccable. There were times when Natasha was clearly losing, but she managed to pull back from the brink and keep going. She managed to get a decent combo in before Damian swiped at her head mid flip. She dodged to the side: a pivotal mistake. In the blink of an eye, Damian was at her. He brought her into a headlock, and Nat had no choice but to accept defeat.

They rose together, to the astonished faces of the Avengers. Tony was especially shocked. Apparently, none of them had ever considered that Natasha could be beaten. Let alone by an eleven year old.

��Great Job, both of you.” Dick said. “I haven’t seen anyone stand that long against Damian in a while.”

Damian smiled at her smugly.

Natasha smiled right back. The fight had been invigorating, and she hadn't had to work that hard before. But for the same reason, it was worrying. The kid taught with skill that would have taken years to develop. Damian had clearly been trained from a very young age, which brought a shiver down Natasha's spine. She had flashbacks to the Red Room. The bloody horror that has been her childhood.

No one should have to face that.

*****

They trained for a few more hours, and the mood gradually returned to whatever could be considered normal. The bats - Damian specifically - had declared the Avengers to be woefully under trained when it came to fighting. They did admit that Natasha was good, and Clint decent, however. They had everynight standards.

Everyone - even Banner, much to his dismay - had been roped into a basic hand to hand combat training routine, modified to fit each person's skill level. Natasha had enjoyed her's very much, but after three hard hours, she was grateful for the shower.

They had rejoined in the kitchen after everyone had a chance to bathe and chat for lunch. Natasha had found more clothes placed in her room, this time black ripped jeans and tank top. Nat wondered who they belonged to, they clearly didn't come from Cassandra, Barbara, or Stephanie.

Nat didn’t worry too much about it though. She just wanted food. Pretty much everyone was there, though Tony was behind her in the hallway. Natasha came and sat down on one of the stools, along with Tim and Cass.

Natasha had no doubt.

Wayne was wearing dressy casual slacks and a cashmere sweater, as was Damian. They truly looked identical. Everyone else was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, or some variation thereof.

“I have prepared a meal for you, do tell me if it is unsatisfactory,” Alfred the butler said as he set some food on the table. Everyone thanked the old man, who only smiled.

Natasha ate in peace, not ignoring anyone, but not partaking in conversation either. Then she heard Jason raise his voice.

“Come on Replacement, you know  I’m about as dangerous as a butterfly.” He was speaking sarcastically, though Tim didn’t seem to notice.

“Tell that to Black Mask’s henchmen,” he muttered, taking a bite of salad.

Jason snorted. “That was a long time ago, and in my defense, it was his mother’s f***ing fault!”

Damian sat straight upright. “How dare you-”

“You know it's true Dami,” Dick said. “She is malicious, even for an assassin.”

“Can we not talk about Talia over lunch?” Wayne asked, his hands on his temples.

Damian made his t-t sound once again, and continued to eat. Jason shrugged and launched back into a conversation with Tim.

Nat glanced over at Tony and Steve, who were frowning, most likely due to the mention of Damian’s assassin mother. They would be talking about this later, no doubt.

*****

“Did you hear how casually they mentioned it?!” Steve was saying. He had gathered Tony, Nat and Clint with him in one of the libraries, desperate to talk about their hosts.

Tony was nodding while he replied. “This place seems more dangerous than we first thought. I’m not sure if we can trust these … bats .”

Clint frowned. “But they have not actually done anything to harm us. Sure, their methods are questionable, but they are our only way home.”

“The least we can do is gather information,” Tony said. “But be careful. If they really do kill, then they might harm us for questioning them.”

“But what behavior have we seen that would suggest they would do something like that?” Clint insisted. “Sure Jason swears a lot and carries guns, and Damian sharpened his katana quite threateningly, but that is not cause for mistrust!”

“They mentioned assassins! The kid’s mother is an assassin !” Steve said. “That in and of itself is cause for mistrust .”

Natasha chuckled lightly, and Steve’s eyes widened. The three men slowly turned to their resident ex-assassin.

“I’m sorry, Tash,” Steve said. “I didn’t mean you , of course. You’re plenty trustworthy!” Tony couldn’t help but chuckle.

“But that’s exactly what you said,” Cint snapped, growing defensive.

“Steve,” Nat said, sighing. “I understand your worry, I really do. But I’m honestly not worried about us.”

Steve blinked. “Why not?”

“Because when I fought with Damian I could tell his style. He had clearly been trained to kill,” This gained an outraged ‘ahah’ from both Steve and Tony, to which Natahsa shook her head. “He had been trained to kill, yes, but his style was adapted. It was like he was unlearning everything he’d been taught. And I know how that is.”

Clint nodded his head, remembering when he had found Nat, and the months afterward when she had been taken in.

“You’re worried about the kids.” Clint stated.

It wasn’t really a question, but Nat nodded anyway. “He would have had to have been trained for years to be that skilled. And he’s only eleven …” Natasha shook her head. “They mentioned the mother in a way that leads me to believe she isn’t really in his life anymore. If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say she’s the one that trained him, not Bruce Wayne.”

“So he probably isn't abusing the kid, that’s great,” Tony said sarcastically, though Natasha could still direct the relief in his voice. “But what about Jason and Cassandra? I wouldn’t put it past Jason to kill us, honestly. But Cassandra, I don’t know.”

“He mentioned something like manipulation while questioning Thor, so maybe he didn’t mean to?” Clint shook his head. “But he still talked about it so flippantly. I’m not sure about him.”

Natasha nodded. “I agree. Jason seems the most volatile. As for Cassandra, I am honestly not sure. I haven’t seen her fight, nor do anything violent. But the way she moves … in some ways I think she’s the most dangerous of them all.”

Everyone was silent for a moment, thinking. Natasha sat back, having done her piece. After a while, Tony spoke.

“I think we should do our own research. With a team this large, surely there will be plenty of information.”

*****

There was not, in fact, plenty of information. Tony had found a free computer on one of the desks in the library that was most likely meant for public use - it had a sticky note with the password (IAmTheNight) on it - and quickly set up a search.

They had started with the basics: Batman, Gotham Vigilantes. But there really hadn’t been much. The most they could gather was that Batman had been an urban legend up until he joined the Justice League. There had been sightings going back almost 15 years, which Meant Bruce had started when he was in his early twenties.

Robin had come in a few years later, and was clearly not Damian Wayne. But beyond that, there wasn’t much. Sometimes Robin wore pants, sometimes not. Sometimes Robin was even a girl. Tony could never find anything defininite. There were countless vigilantes mentioned, some nameless, others not. Some showed up for a few weeks, then disappeared.

Finally they found something.

“Ahah!” Tony said as he clicked on an article about Red Hood. “This should be worth our

time.” Tony pulled up the first paragraph, and began reading.

“It is well known to everyone in Gotham that Crime Alley is one of the most dangerous places in our already dangerous city. What is also well known is its protector: The Red Hood. The Red Hood has had a somewhat rocky past with Gotham, but unlike the other vigilantes that haunt the rooftops, it is relatively easy to follow.

Red Hood first came on the scene a few years ago and quickly made a splash. Hood quickly took over most if not all of Gotham’s crime organizations, and began to make immediate changes.

It is reported that all the drug syndicates halted dealing near schools or children. All human trafficking sceeced. Crime was managed, to a point that not even Batman had achieved.

Red Hood enacted a strict law: he only killed rapists, murderers, abusers, and drug dealers - only those who sell to kids.

But we can’t forget about the dark knight. Batman was seriously against Red Hood in the beginning, and there are several documented fights to prove it. Red Hood became the only major criminal to stay active with the bat’s knowledge, and not be defeated.

After a while, though, Red Hood left Gotham. No one is quite sure why, as he had built himself quite an empire. Later on - no one is sure of the specifics - he returned. Details are foggy around this time, but Red Hood started to appear again, back to patrolling Crime Alley. One thing was different though. This time he wore a red bat on his armor, effectively announcing his allegiance.

According to many Gothamites, Red Hood has not killed anyone since his return, and has given up his crime lord status. Some say he protects Crime Alley, and occasionally teams up with the other vigilantes of Gotham. Many eye witness reports say that Hood has a somewhat amicable relationship with the bats, and is clearly one of them. There are also notes of him using rubber bullets, proving even more that he has sided with the bats. Though this is uncertain, as others report he still uses lead, and has even continued killing.

At this point Hood is considered a hero by most of Gotham, with the minority calling him a plague upon the city. The Police themselves have even stopped actively searching for the red helmeted hero - whether this is due to their inability to catch him, or as a sign of friendship, it is unclear. Police Commissioner Gordan has not commented on the matter beyond a vague statement of Hood appearing with the bats when the bat signal is deployed.”

“Bat signal?” Clint asked.

Tony typed furiously for a moment before retrieving the answer. “Apparently the police have an industrial spotlight on their roof with the silhouette of a bat on it which they shine when in need of the vigilantes.”

Natasha smirked. “Overkill much?”

Tony shrugged. “Hey, apparently  it works.”

“That’s beside the point,” Steve interjected. “We found barely anything on Jason. Sure it says he doesn’t kill anymore, but that doesn’t mean they can be trusted.”

Clint groaned again. “Let me guess, you want us to investigate the family personally?”

Steve nodded. “Nat, I want you to start, you are the intelligence expert after all.”

Natasha nodded, though inside she was in turmoil. She wanted to trust these people. She didn’t know why, but she felt connected somehow. Like they were similar in some core way.

Steve nodded right back. “Good. Meet back here in a few hours. See what you can find.”

[stripesthesupervillain]

Questions from Kings

I was... I was going to make a shitpost. And then this happened, my first Batman fanfiction. This may have a few... implications. Nothing NSFW, but just warning you.

Summary: Whilst in the asylum, Jonathan notices something peculiar about Jervis that brings up several questions. He decided to get these answers through a game of chess, and while Jervis is more than willing to participate, he can’t help but wonder why Jonathan asks them in the first place.

Jonathan Crane quietly drummer his fingers along the small table in the recreation room, looking off to the side as he caught the tail end of a joke Harleen had made to the other inmates. From the way Harvey’s lips (or what was left of them) were upturned in a reluctant manner informed him it must have been one of her better attempts at humor. Another wheelchair joke, he assumed. Joker seemed to have a taste for them after paralyzing another one of the lesser inmates that looked at him funny. Fortunately, he wasn’t here today because of it; many of the patients weren’t here. After a recent breakout, many of the more dangerous convicts were forced to stay in their cells. It wasn’t that Jonathan wasn’t as dangerous as his peers, but it was just that he and Harvey caused a lot less trouble than the destructive natures of Pamela and Joker. Speaking of which, he was beginning to wonder if the same had happened to his acquaintance.

His eyes flicked up to the door for a swift moment, expecting to see the guards bring in the small-statured Englishman, but there was no such luck. Jonathan glanced back down at the chess board before him with a silent huff, preparing to be disappointed again. While giggly and excitable in nature, he knew Jervis could definitely cause a bit of a wreck when suffering from his delusions. It was a shame, really, as they had both been looking forward to playing a few games of chess before Joker would inevitably shove the pieces into someone’s socket. Of course, he could play a game against the Riddler, but what stable man with goals and aspirations would want to do that? Though, with as limited the time they had, he might just want to ask for the sake the few precious hours he had outside of his cell. However, there was another reason he so eagerly wanted the smaller male to appear; he had a few questions he would like answered.  

It had only been yesterday that the former doctor had noticed it. He couldn’t help but to scold himself internally; he had known the little Hatter for a decent period of time, and he’d only now noticed the sure subject of any doctor’s strict attention. Of course, despite how open he was to anything, it wasn’t like Jervis flaunted it around. He was always out to seek the camaraderie of others, not their pity.

It was yesterday that Joker, before being sent off to solitary confinement, asked the two for help setting up the (now missing) Monopoly houses into a small village on the floor. Why this village had so many hotels, he couldn’t answer, but Joker wanted it done before their free time was wasted. Jervis had been happy to help, rolling up his sleeves and collapsing onto the ground to get started. Jonathan preferred to watch, being sure to ask the clown what this was all for. It turns out the preparation was so he could recreate Godzilla starring Miss Dahl, the smallest of the inmates. Mary wasn’t too uncomfortable, it seemed, and once the Monopoly village was set up, she stomped around with a roar and flung them around, but to Joker’s crazed delight. Jervis watched in amusement, giving Mary a small round of applause and glancing up at his friend with a grin that showed off his large overbite. That’s when Jonathan noticed it.  

He’ll admit, he stared a little longer than he really should have, but he’ll blame it on the subtle surprise he felt at that moment. He wouldn’t have ever really expected to see such a thing at the moment. Had he not had the education and precise observation he did, he probably wouldn’t have even recognized it. With his background and experience, however, it was practically his job to recognize these sorts of things, and seeing Jervis with them caused a twinge within himself that he could only think to be unease. Of all the inmates with their psychological disorders, including himself, he would have never actually suspected the mad-as-a-hatter Mad Hatter to be capable of such a thing. Despite Jonathan himself having run the idea on his mind in his younger years, there was never an attempt at it, but he would sooner suspect Dahl, Harvey, or even Harley before ever thinking Jervis capable. Well, “capable” didn’t seem to be the right term. The man never hesitated to deprive the guards of their free will; he was capable of practically anything just short of reaching the top shelf. “Willing” or “contemplative of” seemed to be more fitting.  

The smaller male had seemed to notice the larger’s stare rather quickly, giving a strained smile as he walked back to their table. Jonathan didn’t bring it up as they returned to their preferred pastime. He would need the time to think, as well as formulate a way of bringing the subject to light with his extensive knowledge of psychiatric methods and treatment.

And so now, here he waited. He silently wondered if his noticing the man’s afflictions had somehow sent Jervis off the deep end again. He wouldn’t doubt it, really; Tetch was about as predictable as, well, the Hatter.

A squeaking of the rusty hinges of the door was what caught his attention next. Crane sat up straighter upon watching Jervis be led through the door by two armed men in padded outfits and protective headgear. With the Mad Hatter involved, one had to be extremely cautious, no matter how harmless he looked. The lack of a wild reverie within the smaller man’s eyes was what told Jonathan he was on his medication, subduing the rumination of his Wonderland. That was a good thing, the professor supposed, as he would prefer Tetch to be focused instead of being dragged away early, shrieking his absurdities and how he didn’t want to be beheaded. Despite the pills used to calm his usual nature, Jervis still noticed Jonathan with glee and hurried over to the table, taking his usual seat. “Apologies for my tardiness,” he quickly hummed, setting up his side of the board. “Problems problems problems as usual. Let us not dilly dally. Black, I assume? You won last time, yes?” Crane gave a curt nod, straightening his pieces as he waited for the other to hurriedly set everything in place. It was time to set the treatment in motion.

“Understandable, Tetch. Now, before we start, I would like to play a small game with you,” he told him, catching the other’s attention. “Now, it’s not an actual game, but think of it as… additional rules to our chess match.” “Rules? Please elaborate,” the other requested, placing he last rook in its rightful spot in the corner. “Oh, just a few questions,” Crane hummed, intertwining his fingers as he rested his elbows on the table. “Every time I capture a piece, I get to ask you a question. Vice versa for you.”  Jervis noticeably pursed his lips, already recognizing Jonathan’s doctor-like methods. He knew the Scarecrow wanted information, and seeing as he was using the techniques of his former psychiatric past, this information would most likely be personal. Still, the blonde didn’t see why not; yes, Jonathan could be very prying, but the questions never went too far. The good doctor was usually able to deduce problems with little information provided.  

“Alright, I’ll play your game. I don’t see why not,” the haberdasher complied. Crane gave a small smile, sitting up straighter. “Good to hear. Let us begin.” Without another word, he moved a pawn forward.  

While chess usually prohibited any form of communication between the players, that was the only rule the two disregarded; their cells were quiet enough as it was. Jonathan was the first to take a pawn. “So, tell me, Jervis, how are you today?” Tetch grinned softly, the answer already clear. “Simply delightful, Hare,” he replied. Ah, that nickname. The other let out a simple chuckle. During their first few months of getting to know each other in the recreation room, that given pet name had bothered him to no end. Despite that, he had gotten used to it the more they worked together; the Hatter named almost everyone he bothered to get to know after a character from his books. Hell, he even named Batman. He had learned to take it as Jervis’ way of saying he saw him as a friend. “Good to hear, Hatter.”

Jervis was the one to get the next pawn.  

“How are you, Hare?” he asked, turning the question back onto Jonathan. “Fine, I suppose,” he hummed. “I haven’t been placed in solitary confinement once since I’ve been here. Though, the guards have been a little more rough with me since my last escape.” Jervis grinned giddily at the answer as he took another pawn. He took a second to think of another question. “Good good. And how is everyone else faring?” Crane blinked and looked around the room. “Well, I assume,” he replied, placing another pawn down. “Joker and Ivy have both been sent away to their cells, while Zsasz has yet to return. Harvey’s seeming much better after almost losing his coin, and unfortunately we’re being refused anymore entertainment since the Monopoly incident.” Jervis huffed at this, once again taking another pawn. “A shame. Why is Zsasz locked away again?”

“For attempting to kill his psychiatrist.”

“Ah. Well, how do you-?”

“Ah ah,” Crane interrupted. “You’ve already asked your question. Now, how do you see yourself?”

Tetch recognized that they were now venturing into more personal questions, though he didn’t see anything wrong with this one. It seemed rather easy, as well. “I see myself as the Hatter, of course,” he grinned, moving his knight, which was quickly cornered and snatched up after a few moved. “Of course you do,” he sighed, making another move and taking up a pawn. “So then how do you feel about yourself?” Jervis looked to to side, obviously contemplating as he moved his rook. “Well, I suppose I feel as well as I can,” he sighed, watching the other move his piece before proceeding with his move. “I mean, I’m in perfect health- perfect physical health, Hare,” he interrupted himself, catching the other’s glance. “However, am I completely satisfied? Err… no. Wouldn’t say that I am. Now, if I was free, had sweet Alice with me at a tea party, and a perfectly made cup of tea, I suppose then I would be satisfied with myself.”

A few moves passed before Jervis was able to take up another piece. He looked to the side, attempting to find a throwaway question. “So, why is a raven like a writing desk?” he asked. That was easy. “I haven’t the slightest idea,” was the reply, watching Jervis take up a few more pieces in the coming moves. While the Hatter hadn’t seemed too bothered by the questions, it was clear he was definitely putting an effort into this match to win. At this rate, Crane didn’t see this game ending in his favor. Still, it was answers he was looking for, not a win. Many of Tetch’s questions weren’t even real questions with an open answers; he would quote questions for the book that Scarecrow would answer with ease, having read the book front to back, or maybe he would ask simple greeting inquiries, seeming just wanting move on with the game. Luckily, the Master of Fear was able to get a few good questions in.

“Would you say that you are happy with yourself and your life at this moment?”

“Happy? Why, I’d say my life is rather frabjous!”  

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Oh poppycock, Hare, you know what I meant. Of course I’m happy.”

“What of your family?”

“My family? Why, I haven’t heard a word from the lot in years. Still in England, I presume.”

“Do you miss them?”

“Whom?”

“Your family?”

“Err… perhaps not as much as I should.”

“Have you ever had problems with them?”

“Indeed?”

“Indeed?”

“Indeed.”

Jonathan realized he was beginning to strike something here, noticing Jervis’ unusually curt response. He couldn’t help but crack a small smile to himself; he had forgotten how much he enjoyed finding these sorts of weak spots.

Finally, with Jervis in the lead, the smaller male asked his first real question upon taking the other’s queen. “Now, what is with your fancy of my personal wellbeing?” he interrogated, folding his arms after moving another piece, beginning to corner Crane’s king.

“Well, I suppose you could say I’m leading to a more revealing inquiry,” Jonathan replied, moving his king away near the other’s bishop, only to watch as his own was taken and he was forced into a corner.

“And what may this be, hmm?” Jervis hummed, quirking a brow. His tone had become more tense, seemingly irritated with the emerging questions. He wasn’t one to get annoyed easily, but he seemed rather impatient with all the prying his friend was doing. Jonathan grimaced, before taking his king and knocking over the other’s pawn, the only real move he could make at his point. As soon as the piece was down, he grabbed onto Tetch’s arm. The Hatter looked curious, if not a bit confused, and didn’t pull away as he watched Crane force his sleeve up his forearm.

“What are these?”

He visibly flinched, feeling thin, spindly fingers trail up the inner side of his wrist and tracing the narrow white lines that ran sharply against his skin. Jervis was a pale man, but the scars had been noticeable enough for Jonathan to notice. They were faded, having obviously happened long in the past. Another worrying factor was that they were angled downward, not parallel to his hand, as most would do. “Down the road, not across the street” as many would mock.

Jervis was silent, staring down at the marks blankly. It was the first time Jonathan had seen him look so emptily at something, all the joy and whimsical aspects of his nature drained. The Hatter looked away, mumbling a few incoherent words to himself. Then, with a smile back on his face, he jerked his hand away. “Oh dear, that’s nothing for you to worry about today, Hare,” he chuckled,  not looking up at his chess opponent. “Just a few unpleasantnesses is all. Perhaps it’s a story I’ll tell you another day over some tea.” Scarecrow watched him with an impassive gaze, sitting back in his chair. “Hatter…” he spoke softy, the firm tone always present in his voice now melted away to make way for a gentler hush. “I’m always here to talk if you need to.” Jervis let out a small titter, rolling his sleeve back into place. “Why of course you are,” he grinned, exposing that overbite and folding his hands. “That’s what you doctors do. You poke and you pry and you prod and you persist, but oh that’s just how you are.”

The thinner inmate visibly frowned, leaning forward to try and reason with the other. “Jervis, I just-“

Before he could finish, the Hatter took up his black queen, and with a flick of his wrist, knocked the white king off the table. “Oh, well it seems that you’re out of questions, Jonathan. Check mate.” He stood up, dusting himself off, ignoring the stares he was getting from some of the other inmates. “Hopefully out next game will be far more jubilant.”

And with that, he walked out, leaving Jonathan silent, but still with many more questions.

[lawful-evil-novelist]

Why Joker Getting Character Development Might be a Good Thing

Disclaimer: This is a long rant/essay primarily based on opinion and I am a bitter salt pile so if you disagree in any way that’s fine, this is just my personal take on things and you are free to disagree.

One of the few things that tends to irk me about DC Comics, particularly Batman, is that villains are not permitted arcs or development, save for a select few “choice” villains, and even these villains are severely restricted in what options are available to them in terms of character development.  Selina Kyle is allowed development, but only if it revolves around Batman or a member of the Bat Family.  Harley Quinn always has development in the comics, but it always follows a predictable pattern.  Even in Bombshells, to some extent, Harley grows independent of the Joker in some manner.

Harleen Quinzel is not Harley Quinn until she meets the Joker, and she cannot be with Pamela Isley until she learns to let him go.

And I think this is a problem we see with all villains in the DC canon but I think it’s especially prominent in Batman villains.  The Gotham Rogues Gallery is not allowed to stray outside of the very narrow boxes set out for them, and development they are allowed must remain inside these boxes.  Characters like Harley, Selina, Pamela, and Edward are allowed to dip into antihero territory, but only in predictable ways that the writers know the audience is comfortable with.

And I think this makes it so their most recognizable villains feel stale and overused.  They don’t stray far from their usual traits because they aren’t allowed to change in any way.

And for anyone’s money, I think we all know the biggest culprit of this lack of development and incessant use in spite of it.

Now I’m no Joker fan; I think the character is boring, overused, and frankly, an asshole.  But here’s the thing: he doesn’t need to be. Of all the plots they’ve stuffed Joker into, I’m surprised they’ve never tried to give him an actual arc.  He’s usually the bearer of an arc, usually one for Batman and is always the main bearer of Harley’s arcs, which I find particularly annoying because Harley’s development ends up centering around a man and it becomes often her only motivation to change.

Joker does not change, no matter the story. Even characters like Harvey Dent and Jonathan Crane change slightly, though the change often skews negative and they tend to get worse as a result (a different problem for a different day. Even as we laud Lego Batman’s Joker, we need to keep in mind that he does not change in that story.  The context makes it clear he has always been obsessed with Batman, and always will be, and the events of the movie do not alter his obsession, and in the end, it is used in Bruce’s favor.

This, in large part, is why Joker feels stale and overused, besides that he is forced into stories where other villains belong.  And though he is regularly used, he is not used to his full potential.  Writers pick him thinking he’s an easy write but he isn’t.

Now I’m not going to stand on a pulpit and list all the symptoms of ASPD to convince all of you Joker has it because, let’s face it, you’ve all heard it before and at this point it’s just part of the culture, but I don’t think that ASPD is an accurate summation because it has some caveats.  ASPD does not apply to conditions where the patient has another Cluster B disorder, and Joker’s “symptoms” as it were, fit closer to BPD than ASPD and a big portion of that is how he interacts with the world and how he himself acts, and in any case, I’m not here to give a sermon on how he has BPD instead of ASPD either. Diagnosing Joker doesn’t get us any closer to my point and it doesn’t make him any easier to write.

And my point is this: Joker doesn’t just need to be used less, though he certainly does.  What Joker desperately, desperately needs is to change and grow as a character.  Why? Well aside from not having the most boring thing that has ever dried your brain to a fine powder.  Joker is hard to write, I’m not going to sit here and tell comic writers or fanfic writers that giving him a character arc is easy because it isn’t.  Joker is a tough character to write.  He is simultaneously a man who is too far gone to care that anyone is getting hurt or killed in his jokes and a man who has lost everything and now desperately wants to die.  That isn’t easy to write and I think people tend to trivialize just how hard it is.

Or they do stupid shit like make him tear off his own face like that is exactly how a suicidally depressed person self-mutilates.

Yeah that’s totally an inoffensive portrayal of self-harm.

There’s probably a resounding question of why I should care.  Joker’s a manipulative, abusive asshole he shouldn’t be allowed redemption, right?  Well, I think there is a point where you need to look back and wonder: why is Joker so boring compared to the other rogues?  Because he really is painfully boring in comparison.

I think it’s because he doesn’t feel like a real person.  With Ed, Harley, Jon, Pam, Selina, we relate to them because they have personalities that feel organic and feel human.  We relate to Jon because we have all been scared children in situations we could not escape, we relate to Pam because we have all had scars that did not heal correctly, we relate to Ed because we have all been told at one time or another that we were not worth the time or effort to be loved.  None of us have been Joker.  None of us know, much less understand, what’s going on in his head. We know Jon is angry at the world, and we know it is because when he was suffering and scared no one did anything to stop it.  We know Pam is angry too, and we know she is angry because when she needed help to heal, help was not given.  We know Ed is overcompensating, and we know he is doing so because he desperately wants to prove that he is worthy of love.  We know and understand these characters and their motivations, they are human.

They are also not extremely offensive portrayals of mental illness and are seldom used as such.  If it sounds like I’m bitter about that face thing in New 52, it’s because I am, moving on.

When people call Joker a monster, it is accurate in that he is not humanized.  Even his very explicit wish to die is usually telegraphed by other characters.  The only time he mentions it is in probably the most human we’ve seen Joker in any comic: The Killing Joke.

And frankly this is one of my favorite comics involving the Joker because while I still didn’t relate to him, he still felt human to me.  And further, he recognizes, in this moment, that he has gone too far. This is something I think is important to recognize about Joker: he still has standards, he still knows there is a point of no return, he just doesn’t care.  And he doesn’t care because he wants to die.

But I don’t think Joker’s wish to die should be fulfilled, though I would like to see it explored, I’d actually really like to see Joker come to terms with the person he’s become, because he clearly hasn’t.  If he is so desperate to die that he purposely pushes at everyone’s threshold in an attempt to be killed, even Harley’s.

Harley even recognizes it. Can you imagine reading a comic where the main conflict is not dealing with someone who is mentally ill but someone who is mentally ill coming to terms with the fact that, no matter what, they can never be the same person as the one they were before their mental illness occurred?  That would be interesting!  In fact, I’m not even sure we’ve explored this with Bruce.  The only people who have come to terms with living with a mental illness and never being able to return to the people they were beforehand are Jon and Pam, and this acceptance is always before they ever become rogues, because they know what they went through and the changes they underwent as a result are how they’re coping, and that they can’t just pretend it never happened because that doesn’t change the fact that it did.

And keep in mind coming to terms with being unable to return to the time before the onset of mental illness is not the same as rejecting that time altogether, because that’s what Ed does and we know this is a coping mechanism and we know it isn’t healthy.  Ed does not like the person that came before the Riddler, Harley and Joker want to return to it so desperately they’re rejecting themselves now, and Jon and Pam, while not happy with the way they are now, know they cannot go back.  And the irony is that they both know they need to move forwards, and almost never do. Jon and Pam are frequently static in the comics, because the status quo is god and we must have a fear-obsessed delusional psychiatrist and a man-hating plant lady on the evil side because there is no way two people that have come to terms with themselves and are at best chaotic neutral types can ever do anything good and if they do it is with the aid of someone else because they are helpless to change on their own despite being intelligent human beings.

And if you are wondering, I am bitter about this too and it’s making me get off track.

The thing is, Joker has never been in a situation where his hand has been forced.  He has never been made to do something he doesn’t want to do and he has never had a single moment where, when the chips were down, he had a chance to definitively say: “I don’t want to die.  I want to be in control.  I want to do better.  I want to live.”

And I think he hasn’t because comic writers have never placed him in situations like that for whatever reason.  I think, and this is just speculation, that they are afraid that there is no situation you can put Joker in where he would, without a shadow of a doubt, say “I don’t want to die.”  There is an underlying feeling that Joker has no situation where he will look inward and realize that it is his fault he’s the way he is and he is the one that needs to change.

But no human is that stubborn or immovable, no human is so averse to change that they will never do so.  Somewhere out there, there is a situation where Joker would willingly change or even turn his life around, I can dare to dream of a world where instead of the Joker we have the Jokester because of character development instead of an alternate universe.

Especially since Jokester was summarily given the shaft in the Countdown series and we can add that to the third thing in this rant I am extremely bitter about.

Here’s the thing, there is something admirable about comics that address suicidal depression in a respectful and serious manner, there is a reason the Deadpool comic addressing it is so well-loved.

And the thing is, there are Gotham Rogues who suffer from depression, whether suicidal or not, and Joker is one of them.  It is perfectly fine to address suicidal depression with a character your audience will never see again, but I feel like it might also be accepted, or even welcomed, to have a character who suffers from suicidal depression address that it isn’t just a one-shot character, but one you always see.  Joker works for this too because it brings something up: you can be happy and still suffer from depression, these things are not incompatible.

I think Joker developing as a character is almost, in its own way, vital to the character as a trope. In continuities as long and extensive as Batman’s, characters need to grow and change to keep them from growing stale or feeling overused.

Though it might help to not use the characters so fucking much.

And that is the end of my bitter angry rant on the subject.

[walters-tampon-string]

The Betting Pool

Fandom: Batman

Rating: K

Warnings: Gambling.

Characters: Jonathan Crane, Harleen Quinzel, Edward Nygma, Harvey Dent, Pamela Isley.

Relationships: None

Description: Whenever one of the inmates at Arkham Asylum manages to escape, things get competitive between the ones still trapped there.

Jonathan Crane awoke to the sound of alarms.

Sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he found himself wondering what it was this time. Hearing alarms at Arkham Asylum was not an uncommon occurrence. In fact, Jonathan would go as far as to say it was borderline background noise to him at this point. The only level of interest they held for him at this point was just trying to guess what type of alarm it was. After all, the alarms going off could mean several different things.

There was the first level of alarms which he liked to dub ‘False Alarms.’ These, as one could guess, were the most harmless and innocent ones. These kind of alarms went off when one of the inmates thought it would be funny to pull the fire alarm to cause a little discord in the asylum or if one of the staff members accidently cooked their lunch for too long in the shitty microwave in the rec room, triggering the overly-sensitive smoke alarm. These were the most annoying alarms in his opinion, mainly because it was policy that if alarms went off, all of the inmates and staff had to be shuffled outside, whether rain, sleet, hail, or snow, and wait patiently for the firemen to arrive and confirm that it was indeed, a false alarm.

The second level of alarms he liked to dub ‘Panic Alarms.’ These were the most common. These were the types of alarms that went off when one of the doctors was being threatened or attacked by one of the inmates during private therapy sessions and they needed a guard ASAP. These types of alarms also seemed to go off a lot whenever Garfield Lynns was locked away in Arkham. How the pyromaniac was able to find so many inventive ways to start small fires was beyond Jonathan but he couldn’t help but admire the man’s creativity and resourcefulness. Perhaps he should try to strike up a conversation with the man. He seemed a little too rowdy for Jonathan’s tastes, but perhaps he could learn a thing or two from him.

That was besides the point though.

Finally, there was the third type of alarms. He called these “Major Panic Alarms.” These went off whenever some huge entity like that Doomsday monster was attacking Gotham City or when one of the inmates was trying to escape. These of course, were the loudest of alarms and the ones that got the most attention from the staff. The minute they went off, their cells were bolted shut, cops and guards would flood the halls like a bunch of cockroaches, and any inmate who happened to be out was quickly herded back into their cells lest they wanted to face the wrath of the guards who were looking for any excuse to use their police batons on someone.

These kinds of alarms were more common than they probably should be.

So as he listened, he couldn’t help but wonder what type it was. The loudness suggested a Major Panic Alarm, but then again, when it was the crack of dawn any siren would sound loud…

His question was quickly answered as through the plexiglass window of his cell, he saw two guards come running forward with their guns drawn, shouting something incoherent through the wail of the alarms. All of a sudden, a mini-tremor rippled through the ground and before he or the cops could figure out what was happening, Jonathan watched as a giant, thick green plant of some sort erupted from the floor and smashed through the ceiling. It reminded him sort of that old Jack and the Beanstalk story. The guards screams of terror were cut short as thin green tendrils wrapped around them like pythons and soon they were being lifted through the hole in the ceiling, their guns clattering uselessly to the floor.

A few seconds later, he passively watched as Pamela Isley, aka Poison Ivy, pranced past, giving her plant monstrosity a grateful pat before disappearing from sight. So that was it. Somehow Pamela managed to find a way out of her extremely chemical resistant cell and was now leaving. Jonathan hoped she managed to seduce and coax another male employee into letting her out again. He liked seeing the Arkham staff scrambling around with the media on trying to explain why that seemed to repeatedly happen…

Well, he supposed with Pamela out and about and utilizing her powers, he figured the alarms weren’t going to go off for a while, which meant he wouldn’t be able to get any sleep. Letting out a resigned sigh, he put on his glasses, got off of his bed, and idly padded up to the glass of his cell to watch the ensuing chaos.

The rest of the inmates of the asylum were awake as well, giving different reactions to the events going down. Some of the inmates were simply yelling and jeering at everyone and everything, wanting to do nothing than contribute and add to the noise and chaos. Others were like him and simply rubbing the sleep out of their eyes, trying to figure out what in the hell was going on. Some of the more mentally deteriorated inmates were crying and panicking because of the sirens, curling up in fetal positions and the like. Others were begging Pamela to free them as well. Hah, those words would fall on deaf ears. Pamela Isley cared for no one but herself. The only person he could see her possibly helping out was Harleen Quinzel, and seeing as he hadn’t seen the loud blonde dashing after her, he could only assume she wasn’t feeling that generous that night.

For an hour or so, it was nothing but the noise and chaos. Guards, Arkham staff, and police came and went across the halls, writing down a bunch of legal jargon, talking things out, assessing damages, the like. Some of the louder inmates jeered at them, but they were quite pointedly ignored.

Eventually though, the alarms ceased to sound, the employees all seemed to disappear from the hall, and many of the loudmouthed inmates, having yelled everything they could possibly want to yell, grew bored and retired back to their beds. A few doctors stayed behind to console the crying and panicking inmates but otherwise, the halls were empty except for the plants Pamela summoned from the ground. Never once did the police or Batman come walking through with Pamela in tow, leaving him to assume that she escaped. Good, that meant his patience had been worth it. Not that he was happy the woman escaped, he honestly didn’t care for the redhead all that much. But her escape meant that he would have another chance at the betting pool that was about to start.

Once things were quiet enough, Two-Face’s ragged voice was the first to cut through, “We bet two thousand dollars that the bitch will get caught and thrown back here in three weeks tops by the Bat.”

“Ivy? She’s usually got a good record of staying under the radar after escaping so she can put her plans to action, so I will thrown in three thousand dollars and bet that she will last a good two months before she gets caught…” Edward Nygma piped up two cells right of Jonathan. Suddenly, he let out a quizzical hum and said, “Unless… Quinn! Did Isley say anything to you about hiding out in the Amazon or anything?”

“I don’t know, and even if I did, why would I tell you?” Harley snapped grumpily. Something told Jonathan that Harley was feeling a bit hurt by the fact that Pamela had left her in Arkham. His thoughts got confirmed even more when she petulantly said, “I bet she doesn’t even last a week because she’s being so cocky right now!”

“Ah, ah, ah, you know that’s not how this game works, toots. You gotta bet some sort of compensation if you’re gonna participate. So you going to back that up with some sort of reward?” Two-Face’s gravelly voice growled out mercilessly, clearly not caring about Harley’s feelings. He often liked to play rule-enforcer during the bets, and took the role very seriously.

Harley didn’t seem to want to back up her bet as she simply huffed and went silent, probably to pout or cry. It seemed as if Harley wouldn’t be participating in the betting pool tonight.

Jonathan listened as the others threw down their offerings and bets. Most of them were of monetary value, but a few of the economically struggling rogues threw down various weapons or territory and other things of the like, which Harvey would allow or unallow depending on how much value he thought said items were worth.

He forgot when exactly this whole little thing got started, but at some point, the inmates of Arkham Asylum weren’t satisfied with just sitting back and accepting that one of their own escaped. They had to make a game out of it, and soon, the betting pool began.

The rules were simple. Any participating player would place a bet on how long escaped rogue would stay out. If someone managed to estimate the right time, they would be rewarded with all of the things offered. Pretty simple stuff. If a person lost, they would be forced to cough up what they offered once they escaped. Everyone in the Asylum knew better than to break these rules. Once, one of the inmates, whose name Jonathan couldn’t remember, had betted more than he could actually deliver, and when he escaped, he had tried to run away from Gotham without paying back any of his debts. To make a long story short, that same man was found dead in a dingy apartment, riddled with bullets. Anything that he had that had even a scrap of value was gone. Even his bank accounts had been completely been flushed clean. It was not a game to screw around with.

It was an incredibly hard game to play as well. Jonathan had participated multiple times now and he hadn’t won once. Gotham City was an unpredictable place and all of the rogues were unpredictable people. So many factors had to be put into play with this kind of thing. For example, results depended on how long the rogue was planning to hide from the police at the beginning, how fast the Batman caught them, the like. Usually Two-Face with his knowledge as a former district attorney and Edward Nygma, with his knowledge of statistics, were the ones who ended up winning the most games, but Jonathan wasn’t ready to count himself out yet. He’d gotten really close with a couple of his bets, and if he won just once, then not only would he have more than enough money to fund future plans, but it would give Scarecrow a wider range of territory to roam without having to worry about getting jumped by random henchmen. Plus… think of how many books he could buy with that much money. The thought was a pleasurable one.

He usually found himself placing his bets on the rogues escaping for longer periods of time, as he had noticed that ever since this game got invented, there seemed to be a recurring trend of rogues actually being out for way longer than they had been before its conception. He liked to think it was to prove a point. He knew for a fact when he last escaped Arkham a year ago, he’d actually spent more time than usual concocting his toxin and enjoying his time out before going out and striking because he wanted to cost all of the rogues who thought less of him and his abilities some major cash. Pamela rarely participated in bets, but she was also a very prideful woman and, like him, would probably want to prove a point as well. So, feeling confident, he said, “I bet a gallon of my fear toxin that she will last five months.”

Harvey and the other rogues used to be skeptical on letting him offer fear toxin as compensation. At least until all they all realized how good it was at scaring the truth out of someone or to help incapacitate officers who might be in their way during missions, so now he was allowed to offer it all he wanted. Thankfully, a gallon was easy enough for him to make too once he got enough materials, so it didn’t take way too much away from him either.

“Oooh, betting big Scarecrow,” some inmate Jonathan didn’t know the name of taunted.

He just shrugged at that, a pointless gesture considering he doubted the inmate could see him but he said, “She’s smart, got killer plants, powers, and I imagine enough money to buy any warehouse she might need to hide out in for a while. I am sure she can take care of herself.” ”

Jonathan at least hoped she could live up to the hype he was giving her. After all, it was the least the bitch could do after she had left him to die by one of her plants last time he met her outside of Arkham (thank god he had his scythe at the time which allowed him to take down the beast), so she could at least give him a good reward by not getting her ass captured.

Only time would tell though.

[agentmarymargaretskitz]

I feel the need to finish Earth-6 up and bring Leonard back to Earth-1, plus I got a great idea about it a while back. 

AO3

“Snart’s on another Earth?”

Cisco nodded at the assembled Legends. With some help from Felicity, he’d managed to get a message to the Legends to come to STAR Labs in 2017 as soon as they possibly could. When they had landed, Cisco had broken the news of why he called them. A transmission had come into STAR Labs, one that wasn’t from their Earth. It had been scrambled around and puzzling, but he’d managed to decode enough of the message to determine that Leonard Snart was requesting the Waverider for a rescue.

“I don’t know how he got there-”

“The Oculus,” Sara interrupted. “It must have brought him to that other Earth.”

“Ooookay,” Cisco nodded. “But yeah, I was guessing that it’s the one from our Earth because he was asking for the Waverider.”

“So we go get him,” Mick said quickly. It wasn’t a secret that he was still missing his closest friend. After hearing that he might actually be out there, on another Earth, he wasn’t going to hesitate to save him.

“I’m with Mick,” Sara agreed. She missed the crook too, the feelings she thought she had buried and compartmentalized rising up to the surface once more.

The others of the team nodded, although Rip sighed. “I agree with the lot of you, but the Waverider can’t travel to another Earth.”

“Can’t, or it’s never been done before?” Sara asked.

“The latter,” Rip replied. “The blast from the Oculus must have released a massive enough blast of energy to transport Mr. Snart there. I don’t know if we can replicate that to get there, or to even get back.”

Cisco grinned. “I might know a way.”

Earth 6

Everything was going to hell.

Sadly enough, Leonard Snart was used to that now. It was nearing a year that he had dropped in this Earth, and he was starting to wonder if he was going to be stuck there forever. Sure, he might have still been alive, had a cold gun (similar in appearance to his own, except that it had belonged to his dead doppelganger), and was leading Task Force X without a bomb implanted in his head. Still, he found himself missing the life he had lead aboard the Waverider. He missed time travel, the team, and the adventures that he had gone on. He even missed Raymond, especially since the man’s double was completely opposite in personality. 

Right now, that Ray was currently battling against some of the people the Enchantress had transformed. Laurel and Chato (if the Mick he knew ever meet Chato, he figured they’d get along like a house on fire...hopefully not too literally) were dealing with some of the monsters too. Lawton was picking off others from above, and the rest of the squad was fighting the monsters down the street. 

He fired off a blast from the cold gun at one of the creatures before diving behind an overturned car. At the other end of the car was Colonel Pamela Isley, the other “babysitter” of the Suicide Squad and his partner since he’d been assigned to the task force. She was loading a new magazine into her gun as fast as she could. Leonard knew that she had more guns hidden elsewhere on her person. 

“Remember when that asshole Trickster put an attack on Charm City?” Leonard shouted to her. “How you said it was the worst we’d ever faced?”

Pamela shot to her feet and fired off a few rounds over the car at the monsters before looking back to him. “Yeah, so?”

“This is the worst!” he snapped as he shot the cold gun at the freaks again.

“That was the worst at the time, this is the worst now!”

The monsters kept on coming. Soon, they were going to be completely surrounded. There was only so much charge left in his cold gun before it would be useless in the fight. He knew that Pamela was in the same scenario too, and even Lawton up on the rooftop was going to be out at some point. If they wanted to get to Enchantress’s heart, they’d need backup. However, Argus had gone radio silent on them.

“Snart!”

Instinctively, he turned towards whoever had called out his name, not even registering who had said it. His eyes widened as Sara Lance suddenly ran past him towards the monsters. Both himself and Pamela stared as she took them down with her staff. When they were all down, Sara returned toward them.

“So this is where you’ve been,” she said as soon as she was beside him before punching him in the arm.

Pamela raised her eyebrows while Leonard frowned at the assassin. “What was that for?”

“For being an idiot and sacrificing yourself,” Sara snapped. “But this is because I’m happy you’re alive.”

She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him. 

“Hey,” Pamela said, firing again at the monsters. “Fight now, reunite with whoever the hell this is later.”

“Sara Lance,” the assassin grinned at Pamela. “Assassin from Leonard’s Earth.”

“Colonel Pamela Isley,” Pamela replied as Leonard blasted a few more with the cold gun. “I head Task Force X with Snart.”

“She’s cute,” Sara winked at Leonard before swinging her staff around to take out one of the creatures from behind.

“She’s married,” Leonard told her while the redhead’s cheeks went a little pink. “So how much do you know about what’s going on?”

“Everything,” Sara said. “We hacked Argus when we got here. Mick and Amaya are going after the heart with Firestorm. Everyone else is on the streets trying to fight whatever there things are.”

“YOU!”

Leonard, Sara, and Pamela whirled around to see Ray, or at least the Earth-6 version of him. He was flying towards Sara, and Leonard could see the murderous rage in his eyes as he drew closer. Even though Ray had killed the Sara on this Earth, he knew that the man was still not a fan of her. Acting fast, Leonard fired the cold gun at Ray, knocking him to the street.

“Stand down!” he ordered as E6 Ray got to his feet while Pamela drew out the control pad for the nanobombs. “She’s with us.”

“Sorry, Snart,” E6 Ray snarled. “But I’m done following your orders.”

He raised his wrist toward Sara. Before he could fire, another Atom, this one the Ray from Leonard and Sara’s Earth, slammed into him. The two started to battle before E1 Ray grabbed E6 Ray by the front of his suit and shot into the sky with them. The three watched before Sara held her hand up to her ear.

“Mick and Amaya need back-up,” she told them. “They said they’re at a train station...wherever it is.”

“I know,” Pamela started running. “Follow me!”

Mick was the one who destroyed the heart in the end before Enchantress could kill Amaya. The spirit of the witch was now gone, but the host was still alive. The rest of the Suicide Squad was gathered in the train station, except for Earth-6 Ray, who was unconscious and currently in restraints. The Ray of Earth-1 had barely managed to get the upper hand against him, but he looked like he was going to be sick. Both Legends and members of Task Force X were pleased with the victory, and would have celebrated had Argus not been on their way to pull them out. The Legends (and Cisco, who Leonard had found out was responsible for getting the team to this Earth) were going to have to make a quick break for it, since Leonard had his doubts that Waller was going to let them stay without subjecting them to some kind of study.

At least he’d be going back with them. After all this time, he was finally getting to go home to his own Earth. He’d be able to reunite with Lisa. Mick’s reunion with him had gone somewhat like the one he had with Sara, save for the kissing. But he’d also gotten a threat from his best friend that if he ever tried pulled a stunt like he did at the Oculus again, he was going to Leonard in the brig. Sara had seconded that.

“So I guess it’s goodbye?” Pamela said as he prepared to leave with the team.

“I guess so,” Leonard shook her hand. “Good luck with the squad. And tell Harleen goodbye for me.”

“I will,” Pamela nodded. “Good luck back on your Earth, Snart.”

With some final goodbyes, Leonard left with the rest of Legends to return to the Waverider. Once they were all on board, Cisco created a breach for them to return to their Earth. Rip piloted them through it, and a bumpy ride later, they were back on their own Earth and landing down at STAR Labs. Everyone was planning to rest and recharge from the latest mission, but they were definitely going to welcoming Leonard back officially later, along with filling him in on what he had missed since his presumed death.

Sara had come to his door just after Leonard had entered his room. Nate and Mick were helping a still dazed and shaken Ray back to his room behind them. Leonard only caught a glance of them before closing the door after Sara entered.

“So I guess you got to play leader on that earth for a year,” Sara smirked after the door had shut. “How was that for you?”

“I sympathize with Rip now,” Leonard remarked as he picked up a deck of cards. A thin layer of dust had gathered on them, just like everything else in the room. “It’s good to be back though.”

“We’re glad you’re back,” Sara smiled. “We’re glad you’re even alive.”

“Can’t say the same for my double on that other Earth,” the crook sighed. “Apparently, that Leonard Snart was also Captain Cold. He died when Argus tried to bring him in. That’s why Waller was using me to lead the task force. I was the replacement”

Sara nodded slowly. “Did you meet me there?”

“You were long dead too,” he told her, remembering the file that he had read about her death, and who had caused it. “Raymond killed you. You never met the me of that Earth.”

Both were quiet for a while before Leonard looked back to her. “I missed you.”

“Me too,” she replied. “It hasn’t been the same without you. Two thieves are definitely better than one. And solitaire gets pretty boring after you’ve played it so many times.”

“It really does,” Leonard held up the deck. “Gin?”

The assassin grinned. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Earth 6

Ray groaned and blinked his eyes open. The last thing that he remembered was fighting his doppleganger, the one from the earth they had gone to in order to rescue Snart. Other him had been a dirty fighter, and probably got the upper hand on him in some way. Out of the things he had faced while time traveling, this alternate version of him had scared him the most.

Sitting upright, Ray realized he was in a prison cell. His suit was gone, and replaced with an orange jumpsuit. There was a mattress in one corner, and toilet in the other. Behind him, a thick metal door prevented him from leaving.

Something had gone wrong.

The Ray Palmer of Earth-6 studied his doppelgangers quarters. They were much better than the living conditions that he had been experiencing in Argus since his capture. His double on this Earth seemed to have a similar taste to what he had before he had lost Anna. After that, he had done away with silly little knick knacks. However, they did have the same taste in cereals though. 

He still couldn’t believe how easy it was to get rid of his doppelganger. The idiot was probably still out cold in his cell in Belle Reve. After he had disabled the nano bomb in his neck, Ray had figured that he would make a getaway from Waller’s pet project and start a new life. That bull of becoming a better person and helping the world wasn’t for him. He looked out for himself these days.

Then he had seen the Canary, or at least the one from this Earth. Now, his plans had changed. Killing the Canary on his Earth had not sated his desire for revenge against her.

Perhaps killing her again would do the trick.

[batsy-batsy-batsy-blog1]

Gotham’s Most Wanted [The Joker x Harley] Part 2

Day 2 of JokerxHarley Week: Greed

(This fic is going to be a series, one chapter for each day of the week, but some chapters may have more to do with the theme of the day than others) Check out @jokerxharleyweek for other submissions

Summary: Harleen Quinzel finds someone she never expected in a world she’s convinced is out to get her. (Highschool AU)

AO3.org

For the first time in a very long time, Harleen didn’t wake up with fear on her mind, she woke up with thoughts of him. He knew her name, poured his heart out, sat with her for almost two hours. She would have sat with him all night if it hadn’t been for the sounds of her father BANGING on the bottom floor. The second she heard he was back, she had disappeared back into her family’s apartment in a flash, not even checking to see whether Jack was awake or not.

Jack.

She sighed happily as she slid out of bed, put on some clothes, and blinked on some mascara. Expertly, she tied her hair into two pigtails for two reasons, 1) It was adorable and 2) It made her look more innocent, less people would suspect her of her little crimes. Obviously the pigtails hadn’t worked their magic when it came to stealing Miranda Costello’s laptop though.

Harleen carefully poked her head out her door, and surveyed the situation. Her father was passed out on the couch like she assumed he would be, an ash tray full of cigarettes and empty beer cans surrounded the floor around him. She swore her life came straight out of an angsty teen novel. Her mother was no where to be seen.

She tiptoed her way to the front door like she had done last night. She passed the kitchen on her way and froze. Her mother’s wide, glassy green eyes caught her own blue one. Harleen was caught with her backpack slung over her shoulder, leaving way earlier than she needed to, and her mother was caught clutching a nearly empty vodka bottle in one hand, and raiding the alcohol cabinet for more with the other. The alcohol cabinet was the only reason her mother ever went into the kitchen anyway. They both said nothing, slowly returning to what they were doing, a silent agreement to keep what they saw a secret.

As Harleen began to descend the rickety, spiralling staircase to the main entrance, she briefly glanced over the railing and she was so glad she did. Jack. The unmistakably fluff of black spiked hair was two flights below her.

“Jack!” She called. He looked up, and when he saw who it was, he rolled his eyes and kept going. Harleen wasn’t going to stand for that. She jumped down the stairs two at a time to catch up with him, but it wasn’t until they were out on the street, and she saw the back of his over-sided purple hoodie was she close enough to call his name again.

“Jack!” She yelled again, he was only ten-feet ahead of her now. This time he didn’t keep quiet and continue walking. This time he whirled around, and ran at her. He slapped a hand over her mouth, and dragged her into one of the plentiful ally ways that littered this street. It took everything she had not to completely flip out. From her experience in life, a hand over her mouth meant suffocation, but he released her as soon as they were alone in the ally, he wasn’t going to hurt her.

“Are you insane? You can’t just yell in the middle of the street in this part of town this early in the morning, you’ll be shot! Are you stupid?” He reprimanded her. Harleen’s eyes narrowed at that remark.

“No, I am not. Don’t call me that.” She ordered me. He just rolled his eyes, and began to walk away again. “Hey, I’m talking to ya! No one’s gonna shoot me ‘round here cuz they know who my father is, he works with Falcone.”

“For, not with, for, you’re father is scum.” Jack retorted, but he didn’t seem angry, just bored. This is not how she had wanted this conversation to go. And Jack was walking away again.

“Hey! Stop doing that!” Harleen whined jogging to catch up with him. “Look I don’t disagree my dad’s scum, I’m just saying the people ‘round here no not hurt Falcone’s people.”

“And I’m just saying, you ought not to feel so safe. You think cuz you’ve got a big bad dad, you’re fine, but you’re dad isn’t one of Falcone’s ‘people’, he just thinks he is. Falcone’s wouldn’t care one way or another if your daddy was dead, not to mention his annoying daughter.”

“You didn’t find me annoying last night,” Harleen mumbled.

“Is that what this is about? Look Harleen I’m sure you’re a sweet girl, but I don’t do sweet. I was drunk last night, that why we talked, that’s why I told you all that stuff. Just because we had one conversation does not mean we have some sort of connection now. I was so fucked up, I would have had a heart to heart with the fucking wall.”

“I think you’re lying, I think you liked talking to me, and I think you’re just trying to push me away now because you’re afraid of human connection.”

“What the fuck? You think you’re some kind of psychologist?” Jack gave her a confused and annoyed look all rolled into one facial expression.

“No, but I’m taking a psychology class, and I’m really good, so I’ll probably end up being one.”

“Well I hate psychologists, they’re all idiots you think they're helping me. They don’t, just want their fat paycheque.”

“You don’t think being able to read people and pick apart their mind is fun?”

“I can already do that, I don’t need a class.”

“Fine whatever, we’re getting off topic, there’s a reason I wanted to talk to you.”

“And what’s that?”

“I think we should be friends.”

Jack actually laughed at that one, not the same laugh as last night. This one was real, he found actual humour in her statement.

“No thanks Harleen, I don’t really do friends.”

“I know, that’s why you need me, so next time you get drunk you won’t be having that heart to heart with the wall.” She giggled, she swore she saw a hint a smile on his lips. She only ever saw him smile when he was wreaking havoc on the school.

“You only want to be friends because you have none.”

“I do!” she defended herself.

“Like who?”

“Well I got Red, you know Pamela Isley?”

“Oh, that chick hates me more than the average person, but congrats on your one friend!”

“I have more than one! I got, um, Selina Kyle!”

“You’re friends with Selina Kyle?”

“Well yeah, sorta, kinda, well we have an understanding.”

“So no, not friends?”

“I guess not.”

“Didn’t think so. Let me rephrase Harleen, I just don’t think we should be friends. You’re nice and everything, but you’re too sweet and innocent. You wouldn’t enjoy the things I like to do in my free time. I mean you smell like cotton candy for fuck sake.”

“Try me, Jack. You might be surprised.”

“Harleen, your hair is in fucking pigtails.”

“Fuck off.”

“Oh, she swears, how rebellious!” He covered his mouth with his hand in mock horror. “Okay, for example the reason I’m off to school so early is this. You see that ATM up ahead? Yeah, I’m about to break into that.”

“Oh wow, I’m so impressed, an ATM, how high risk!” It was Harleen’s turn to be sarcastic.

“Well it’s not like you’re off to rob a bank there Hun, let me guess, you’re headed off to school so early to what? Get some extra studying in?”

“Yes actually.” She shrugged as he scoffed at her. “Well that, and to stash like stuff.” She swung her bag off her shoulder and opened it to reveal it was stuffed full of electronics.

“What is all that?” Jack seemed genuinely interested in their conversation for the first time.

“Shit I’ve stolen from our classmates. Like that’s Miranda Costello’s laptop she’s all bent out of shape about. There’s phones and tablets, and just stuff like that, stuff people are dumb enough to bring to a school full of poor kids, who come from bad neighbourhoods. Like I got a solid gold pen in here Bruce Wayne brought to school.”

“Bruce Wayne huh? I hate that guy.”

Harleen just shrugged, zipping her backpack up, she didn’t really know much about him, except for the fact she had stolen his pen, and he had the locker beside her. Well that and his dead parents, but everyone knows how that song goes.

They were now stopped in front of the ATM Jack had been talking about. He crouched down and examined it’s lock.

“Look, you may wanna get out of here, unless you want to be an accomplice.” He warned her.

“Oh you’re right, we could get put on death row for this one.”

“Fine, but I warned you.”

“So, ya gonna pick the lock?” She crouched beside him.

“I’ve never really been one for silent, sneaky crimes.” He produced a hammer from his own backpack. “I’ve always been a slut for chaos.” His face split into something that could only be described as a maniacal grin, and he laughed as he swung the hammer once, twice, tree times against the lock.

“Oh fuck!” Jack exclaimed as the door swung open, causing the both of them to jump backward slightly. “Exploding dye pack!” He was right, there was a somewhat small bang, and then bills were fluttering to the ground, coated in a thick dark blue dye that matched the dye splattered across Jack and her skin and clothing.

He scooped up a small pile of bills into his backpack, tossing the hammer in along with them. Harleen did the same trying to find the least affected bills.

“Run, come on!” Jack was on his feet and offering her his hand, he was smiling so wide. She smiled back and gladly accepted.

They took off down the street, Jack pulling her along. They wove their way through Gotham’s complicated maze of streets for at least 15 blocks. They took detours through ally ways, hoping fences using crates and dumpsters, but every time he went before her, and every time he waited to take her hand again. Jack laughed the whole time they ran, it was infectious causing her to giggle along with him. He finally stopped, turing off a main street into yet another ally, and leaned against the brick wall. They slid down into a sitting position.

“Now that’s was I call a good time.” Jack sighed. His eyes were closed and he wore the most content smile in the world. Precious.

Harleen felt her adrenaline pumping wildly through her veins, and her lungs heaving to catch her breath. She could feel her cheeks flushed from the running and every time she breathed it felt like she was swallowing razor blades from the cold.

“I feel awake.” She whispered, mostly to herself, but Jack opened one eye, taking in her expression.

“I’m going to give you one day. We do what I want to do, and if you think you still want to be friends after that, then fine, but this is your one day to decide. It’s also my choice so if you piss me off, then you’re gone. Now, come on.” He was on his feet again. “I got somewhere we can hide your stuff, and this ink-covered clothing. He was offering his hand again.

He helped her to her feet, and led her down a couple more streets, until they ended up at the backdoor of their school.

“I broke the lock off this door last year, and they still haven’t fixed it or noticed for that matter.” Jack chuckled, holding the door open for her.

Harleen had never been in this part of the school, it was usually so clean, and orderly, but down here it was unkempt and messy.

“I like it better down here, I feel more in my element. Everything upstairs is so fucking perfect and fake. Nothing is perfect, this basement is like a reminder that even the things that seems the most put together and lovely, have secrets, dirty, broken secrets.”

Harleen ate up his words, like he was some famous poet.

“Here we are!” He announced, gesturing to a plain old grey door. She was slightly disappointed, she was suspecting something a little more hidden.

“A janitor’s closet, isn’t that a little cliche? And wouldn’t the school easily be able to get in here, and you know, find my shit?” Harleen crossed her arms.

“Maybe they could have two years ago, but around the same time I broke the lock on that door back there, I changed the lock on this one, and only I have the key.” He grinned, holding up a key chain with about four or five keys on it.

Harleen stepped closer to him, excitement gleaming in her eyes. “Now we’re talking.” She took the key chain from him, examining each of the keys. “It’s this one isn’t it?” She held up a small silver key with a circular head.

“How could you tell?” He asked, mildly impressed.

“Psychology doesn’t seem so dumb now, does it?” She giggled, turning away from him and inserting the key into the lock. He rolled his eyes.

“What are the rest of these keys for?” She asked, fiddling with a few of them.

“We’re not that close yet.” He said, snatching the keys back, and shoving them in his pocket

“Yet.” She smiled opening the door, and her mouth dropped open. The little closet was full of things, electronics, clothes, jewelry, anything you could imagine. Now it was Jack’s turn to look smug.

“Greedy little bastard, aren’t ya?” She laughed.

“You may have stolen a few bits and pieces, but I’m the king sweetheart.”

“You don’t say.” Harleen replied in awe, following him inside the little room, shutting the door behind them.

“You can toss you’re bag anywhere.” He said. “And we gotta get rid of these clothes, we may have broken into an ATM, but the world doesn’t need to know.”

“But I don’t have any other clothes here.”

“Guess you can wear some of mine for the day, here.” He tossed her a flannel and a grey t-shirt that had been handing on a make-shift clothing rack. “You’re jeans will be fine, you can barely see the stains of them.”

“You want me to change in front of you?” Harleen smiled slyly.

“I don’t care, do what you want.” He shrugged, but as she turned around and pulled her shirt over her head, she could feel his eyes on her back. She smiled, she had him.

“Hiya Red!” Harleen greeted her friend, sitting down at their shared table in the chemistry lab. She turned her head to see where Jack had sat. He was in the very back with the goggles everyone was supposed to keep on their faces at all times pushed up on his head, covering his wild mop of black hair.

“See I have friends” She mouthed at him.

“One.” He mouthed back, Harleen replied by sticking her tongue out at him

“Hey, Harleen! I’m talking to you.” Pamela snapped her fingers in her face trying to get her attention.

“Sorry Red! What were you saying?”

“Where were you this morning we were supposed to study? And why were you 15 minutes late to class? What are you wearing? And most importantly, for the love of god, why did you walk in here with Jack?” She spat his name out like it was poison.

“Slow down, one thing at a time Pammy! Okay, this morning, I- uh, got a little held up, I only just got to school, that’s why I’m late too. I had to change clothes, mine got ruined, and as for walking in here with Jack, he’s the reason I’m late.”

“Ugh, figures.” Pam grumbled, shooting a glare in Jack’s direction. “I hate that guy.”

“I like him, I think we’re kinda friends...” Harleen trailed off after seeing the look Pam was giving her.

“Friends with Jack? Since when are you friends with that fuck up?” She whisper-screeched.

“Pamela! Quiet down, finish your lab work.” Their chem teacher snapped, and Pam began to angrily mix their solution.

“Honestly Harleen, being friends with Jack, is just going to derail you entire senior year. There’s a reason everyone calls him a clown!”

“Red, I think you’re being-“ Harleen started to defend him, but Pam cut her off.

“It’s because he can’t take anything seriously, and everything is a joke to him. He’s a total train wreck Harleen.”

“Listen red, I know you’re one of my only friends and I appreciate that, but shut up. You’ve never spoken to him in your life.”

“I don’t have to, to know guys like that are going no where, probably going to end up dead in the gutter!”

“Pamela!” Harleen could have started shouting at her right in the middle of class. “That was too far.” Her voice low, and menacing, so much so that Pam knew she said too much.

“I was just making a statement.” She mumbled.

“Well next time you want to make a statement like that, don’t.”

“Wait, what are you doing, that’s not right!”

Pam and Harleen turned around to see little Edward Nygma jumping around Jack’s shoulders, waving his hands. Incidentally he had ended up being Jack’s lab partner.

“Relax Nygma.” Jack was saying as he finally replaced him goggles to his face. Now, duck!” He shouted, grabbing Ed by the shoulders, and pulling him to the floor with him. Their was a small pop, then their mixture exploded. When the smoke cleared, Jack was peaking over the table, the tips of his hair singed, and the entire table blackened. Ed whimpered from the floor, but the teacher, who Harleen kept forgetting the name of, looked ready to explode himself.

“Jack. Principal’s office. Now.” Jack stood up, bowed, and casually sauntered out of the room. A low rumble of laugher started up in the room, but one look at the teacher had everyone silent. “Edward, clean that up. the rest of you get back to work.”

Harleen turned to look at Pam, but she had already gone back to working on their own assignment, she was mumbling to herself, and shaking her head as she did so.

“Friends with Jack, I mean honestly...”

“Harleen, where have you been?” Harleen whipped her head around with a big smile on her face to see Jack walking toward her. She had been walking to the main doors with Pam, they had both been a bit short with each other that day since the events in chemistry class, but they were each other’s only friends, so they had to suck it up.

Jack walked right up to them and caught her by the arm, pulling her away from Pam, into the busy crowd of students making their way out of the school, so she couldn’t follow.

“I thought we were supposed to spend the day together, just us, that’s what you agreed to isn’t it?” Jack raised an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah, but you got sent to principal’s office first period, and never came back, I just figured you got suspended again.” She shrugged, but delighted at how eager he seemed to have her around.

“You think I actually went to the office? No- god Harleen, rule 1 of hanging out with me, you get in trouble, cause more. You get sent to the office, don’t waste the opportunity of being out of class by actually going where you’re supposed to, and find something fun to do.”

“So what did you do?” The were outside now, and Jack was leading to the back of the school again.

“That’s what I’m showing you.”

As they got around to the back, they were about to round the corner when Jack stopped her and physically pushed her back around they corner.

“There’s a cop car back there, and cops and they’re talking to the principal. Did you give me up? Is that why you wanted to be ‘friends’ so I’d show you where I hide my shit, and you’d give me up? Is that it?” He held her against the outside wall out the school, eyes flashing, all too alike to her father’s.

“No, get off me! I stashed my bag of shit in that room if you forgot. What? You think that was just a bag full of props? You think all that stuff was actually mine, and I’m just playing you to get you arrested again?”

“I just-“

“Don’t fucking accuse me of that shit.” She shoved him.

“Calm down, I have to cover my bases.” He looked down, apparently focused on straightening out his sweater, but she assumed he just didn’t want to look her in the eye. “It doesn’t even matter now, they’re gonna find everything in that room, all our stuff is gone.”

“No no no no, I have to get back in there, we gotta get it before they find it!” Harleen eyes widened in fear.

“Are you kidding, if any of them even see me near there, they’re gonna arrest me in a heartbeat, no, we aren’t going back there.”

“No, you don’t understand, my dad...” She trailed off, imagining wha he would do once he found out she lied, stole, and had been arrested. “My name is in my backpack with the stuff.”

“I really wanna call you stupid right now.” He shook his head, turning his back from her, trying to think. “If they find that backpack, you’re gonna go down for the whole room.”

“No, that can’t happen.”  She went the corner to peak around see what was happening, and her eyes almost popped out of her head. “Jack come here, look at this.”

“What?” He peeked his head around above her’s. “No way.” He laughed coldly.

“The principal and a cop doing a drug deal.” Harleen was still in awe.

“Come on, let’s get out of here. Don’t wanna get caught spying.” He pulled her away from the wall, and started walking back toward their neighbourhood. “That’ll just teach ya, everyone is shit, no matter how good they seem.”

“I can’t argue with ya.” She agreed. They walked the rest of the way in silence, but she could practically feel the anger radiating off him.

As they reached their front doors opposite each other, he turned to her.

“You wanna come inside, my mom probably won’t be home until late?” He asked, but he wouldn’t meet her eye.

“I wanna, I do, but I gotta be home when my dad gets home and I don’t know when that will be.” She said sadly.

“Well, I could come there if ya want?” He offered.

“Yeah! Okay!” She was agreeing enthusiastically, before she thought about it. How would she get him out of the apartment before her father got home? And how would she avoid him meeting her mom?

Shakily she took her house key out of her pocket, but she couldn’t keep her hand steady enough it get it in the lock. Without saying a word, he took the key from her, and did it himself, pushing the door open. She shut the door behind them and when she turned back around, she came face to face with her mom. So much for him avoiding meeting her.

“Oh Harleen, do you got a friend over, do ya?” She drawled, giggling. Drunk as usual.

“Yeah mom, come on Jack.” She sighed, trying to lead jack past her, but her mom snatched her wrist with what could only be described as her claws.

“You know ya dad don’t like boys in the house little lady, he won’t be happy to find him here.” She smiled, showing all her yellowing teeth. Her mom used to be beautiful, but years of alcoholism, smoking, and beatings from your husband took that away from her, leaving Harleen with this broken shell of a woman, for a mother.

“Yeah, that’s why he’ll be gone before dad gets back.” She pulled her arm away, creating stinging scratch marks on the sensitive skin.

“That doesn’t mean he won’t know he was here.” Her mom laughed loudly, which quickly turned into a hacking cough, and the whole scene ended with her passing out on Harleen. She stumbled under the weight. The whiskey bottle her mother had been burning like a child slipped from her hand, and smashed of the floor.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, but could you please clean that up for me, while I put her in her room?” She had never felt more embarrassed in her life, but he just shrugged it off.

“I know the drill.”  He agreed

“Thank you, there’s probably a towel to dry it up with, and a broom for the glass in the kitchen.” She directed, awkwardly pointing in the direction of the kitchen under her mother’s dead wait.

Harleen began to drag her mother’s unconscious body toward her bedroom. It wasn’t easy, no matter how fit Harleen, what a person’s dead weight is fucking heavy. She felt as if she struggled for an hour trying to toss her mother onto the bed, but in reality it was most likely 15 minutes.

Once she finished dealing with her mother, she found Jack standing back in the main entrance holding a wet towel, and a small plastic bag, witch what she assumed held the glass pieces.

“What do you want me to do with these?”

“Nothing, I’ll take them, thank you.” She took the items from his hands, giving him a small smile.

“It’s no big deal, I’ve done it a million times.”

She led him to her tiny bedroom at the back of the apartment. He father had thrown up some pieces of ply wood and a curtain when she was born, sectioning off a minuscule corner of the living room for her bedroom. Just enough room for a bed, and a dresser stuffed in. But she did have a window, right above the bed.

“Welcome to my humble abode.” She said as she crawled up on the bed and forced open the rusted window, tossing the towel and the bag of glass outside. “Can’t have dear ole daddy finding those.”

Jack jumped and flopped onto the bed, causing her knees to buckle from where she stood on the bed, she fell, landing on top of him. but this wasn’t some adorable ‘moment’ like in the movies where their eyes meet, and their faces so close they could kiss. Instead, he knees fell right onto his groin, and she smacked her head off the wall. They both crumbled to the ground in a fit of equal parts pain and laughter.

Once they got themselves together again, they lay side by side on her bed. She didn’t know how long they were there, but conversation with him came as simply as if they had been friends forever. He was funny, really funny, making her laugh more than she had in her entire life, and she knew she wanted him, just him.

“You know you’re name is a mouth full, Harleen Quinzel.” He commented after a few minutes of silence.

“Don’t remind me, I hate it.” She groaned.

“What you need is a nickname, I’ll have to think of one.” He said, making her smile. She liked the idea of him having his own name for her.

“Okay then, J.”

“I never agreed to a nickname.”

“Too bad, you got one.” She smirked. He chuckled, ruffling her hair.

BANG BANG.

She knew what that meant all too well.

“Oh god, you got to go.” She scrambled.

“What why?” She could see he didn’t want to.

“My dad, he just got back, I heard him downstairs.”

“How the fuck would you have heard that, we’re on the fourth floor?”

“Believe me, I think I’ve learned the sound of my dad, I always hear him. It doesn’t matter, he’s gonna be up here soon, you have to go!” She pushed him out of the bed with her, over to the curtain that serves has her door.

“Fine, I’ll go, but I’m not done talking to you.” He said flipping around to face her, so her hand that had been on his back pushing him out, were now on his chest.

“So, I guess that means we’re friends?” She smiled, not moving her hands.

“Fine, friends.” He rolled his eyes, he did that a lot, whether he meant it or not, and she was hit with a surge of confidence. She bawled her hands into fists, gathering his shirt in her clutch, and pulled him toward her, kissing him freely, and to her delight, he kissed back. When she released him they were both smiling.

“Just friends?” She asked.

“Go to sleep Harleen, it’s late.” He chuckled, and was still smiling as he backed out of her room, never breaking eye contact with her until the curtain forced them to.