#if harley was aware he was back in gotham she would have killed the joker before he knew of his son

[ghostbsuter]

Water drips down in the corner, the steady dop drop drop— does wonders for the bat.

Batman has been taken, tied up, and undressed of his utility belt. It takes him a second to figure out who took him, by the large but empty and run down warehouse, the sound of the shore not far away.

The docks. He shuffles, bound and comm off.

Then, the steel enforced door slams open and Joker enters.

"Batsy!" He calls, overjoyed. The man walks to the bound vigilante and crouches to his height.

"It's been so long, hasn't it been?"

The vigilante grunts. "Joker."

"Today will be different." He goes on, "today, we have," the crime Prince drums his fingers on Batman's thigh. "A guest!"

He freezes at that, Joker has a civilian.

(Oracle sends out the message, her voice firm, and the coords are shared to the rest of the clan in seconds as she looks at her monitor. Batman's red dot at the harbour bright.)

"I'm a guest now?" The voice of a child asks, it brings slight confusion that the boy wasn't tied nor harmed in any way.

It's relief that he seems okay, but the danger of standing next to the Joker has Batman wiggling in his restrains.

"Is that a promotion or demotion for son?"

A brief look of annoyance enters Joker before being smoothed out, the boy is dealing with a delicate time bomb. Uncomfortably close to the madman.

(He hurries in the process of breaking free.)

"My son! My blood!" Sings the clown, throwing his hands around the boy's shoulders and prancing around.

Which brings another question.

Son?

Cool lighting hits the boy's head and the tuffs of pink, blue and green become more obvious, hidden beneath black hair previously.

Joker and Harley have a child. A son.

He will visit harley later. The boy comes first.

"Dante! Danyal! Daniel?" Joker croons, shaking the boy. "What was it again?" He stops, turning his son toward him with a grin.

(Robin drops down behind him, hiding, katana ready to be swung.)

"Danny, actually," the child— Danny– shrugs off the hands and steps back. Unflinching from the judging stare, simply waving off the hands creeping to his throat.

"Danny," the name is tested, and the Prince of Crime hums to himself. "We can always replace it as Joker Jr! It fits you better than Danny."

(Red Robin and Spoiler get on position above them, ready to pounce from the construction pillars.)

"Yeah, I don't know about that." He chuckles nervous, catching Batman's eyes and—

His eyes alone scream of fear, scared– scared—!!

"We will get you an acid flower, a new suit as well, the hoodie looks horrible on you." The man notes, humming.

"I prefer hammers." Danny replies with tense shoulders.

Joker clicks his tongue, "You always went after your mother." he hisses, outright glaring at his son now. His hand tightened around the crowbar he'd gathered not long ago.

"I mean," he hesitates, eye trailing off the Joker and over his shoulder. "I did come out of her."

The sound of a loaded gun shatters the silence, and Joker is pulling Danny, switching their positions and pushing him right in front of the gun in Red Hood's hand.

"Always a coward, hiding behind others, aren't you." Danny stops himself from squealing. That's the Red Hood!

(Escrima sticks light up with electricity as Red Hood speaks.)

Joker is ticked off, party ruined and surrounded now that he looks around.

Oh well, he can get his son on his villain path another day.

Cackling, he evades the escrimas, dodging the wonder boy and evading the twin attacks from above.

He pulls out a trigger and presses the bright red Button.

"Have fun bats and birds!"

The warehouse is completely flooded with fear gas, scarecrow wouldn't be mad he sacrificed one of his warehouses, will he?

It's all blurry. In one moment, his view is shrouded, and he's coughing. In another, he gets picked up and brought outside, the Joker gone.

An oxygen mask is placed on him by a paramedic, being handed off to an ambulance that had been called.

Peeking around, he sees Red Hood (!) still lingering around. Danny catches his eye and with a wave, the man is walking towards him.

He simply crosses his arms and tilts his head, waiting.

"Could I get a picture?" Danny blurts out, flushing after and coughing, holding the oxygen mask in his lap.

Red Hood makes a show of his shoulder sagging before crouching down and leaning toward him.

Later, Danny will look at the picture with a boyish grin, crooked and charming.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

A continuation

[punprincess321]

So... why didn't Bruce just lobby for Joker to get executed? Like you’re telling me this man doesn't have the cajones to kill the man that killed his son (he couldn't because Joker had diplomatic immunity but in recent years he just subscribed to "I'd be as bad as him if i did") but he couldn’t just... I don't know... USE HIS VAST WEALTH AND INFLUENCE TO GET HIM A SEAT IN THE ELECTRIC CHAIR!? Like if you're not gonna do it yourself, I get it, Batman should not be seen killing, but Bruce Wayne can absolutely be seen lobbying for Gotham's judicial system to give Joker the death penalty. Joker has never ONCE shown signs of improvement unlike the rest of the rogues gallery, he is fully aware of what he is doing, yes he's insane but he legit takes pleasure in the chaos he creates, there's no saving that, at this point he doesn’t even deserve the chair, he deserves to be held down and have a car battery clamped to his nipples. This fight between batman and joker doesn't end until one of them is dead and joker legit went to work at the DMV after batman died, there’s no saving joker while batman is alive.

"But he could break out with the help of his goons!" Bruce could use his wealth to pay them all off, every petty criminal and goon for hire gets a nice cash gift if they turn joker down, get lawyers that Joker threatened top notch security, HE HAS THE JUSTICE LEAGUE ON SPEED DIAL! If Joker was getting executed, Bruce would absolutely get Clark and Diana to personally escort the clown to the exection room, both are wearing heavily armored gasproof suits so he doesn't try anything funny with joker venom or kryptonite or anything else.

"What about Harley?"

Do this when she is in a 100% hates joker mood, keep her with Ivy and her doctors and more security, I say flash because he's a nice guy who wouldn't taunt her and rile her up to save joker. Don't let the path to the execution room go by where she is, one look and she could be back under his spell.

"Oh in this comic they tried to execute him and it failed" okay I wanna see that and tell me where it went wrong, and if killing him STILL doesn't work, then make LIFE hell for him. If killing joker still doesn't work here's my pitch for what to do with him:

Lock him away from everyone, lock him in a secure painfully beige house, he eats nothing with color just potatoes, well done steak, eggs, onions, milk, water, bread, and beans, his only utensil is his hands, no paper, no glass, no plastic, no metal, nothing to be used as a weapon, he just gets food put straight onto the table and he eats it with his hands, he has to drink using those fancy water bombs made with seaweed. Every product he has access to is 100% natural, no chemicals he can use to make his laughing gas to poison the guards, all he gets to watch is the news and documentaries about stuff like how taxes were thought up or who invented sliced bread. He speaks to no one, no phone calls or human interaction, his only entertainment is tv which he can only watch through a window of 12 inch thick glass and the speakers can't be reached to mess with, all chairs and tables are built into the floor. The house receives routine maintenance to make sure nothing is loose or messed with, he's knocked out for each inspection with a lot of knockout gas, all security cameras are hidden so he doesn'tfeel the satisfaction of knowing people are watching him. He doesn't get to see batman either, his one reason to live is messing with batman and he doesn't get to do that. Everyone is just hoping he gets depressed and drowns himself in the bathtub.

Like I am seriously wanting one of these to happen, either Bruce walks up to Jason with passes to watch the execution or hands him security footage of joker crying in his boring cell as a birthday present and a big apology for not handling this asshole in so long.

AND FOR ALL YOU THAT WILL SAY "You can't permanently off the most popular batman villain!" I DIDN'T SAY THIS WAS PERMANENT! I WOULD JUST LIKE TO SEE THAT THERE IS A UNIVERSE WHERE BRUCE MADE UP WITH JASON BY GETTING RID OF THE JOKER AND NO CONSEQUENCES! And don't say "he did it for superman to prevent the injustice timeline once" that ain't what I'm talking about, I'm saying he does this for JASON. HIS SON.

I'm taking this shit seriously if you can't tell. If you want to add something I missed in either plan go ahead, I am basically wait for the day I get sucked into the DC universe and I can tell all this straight to Bruce's face and I need it perfect.

[gilbirda]

Another Harley Quinn

Sequel to "The After"

Go to the first fic: "Deal"

A few weeks after the news of Joker's death spread around Gotham, a bonfire was lit on the roof of Joker's abandoned Funhouse. It wasn't rocket science to know who had done it or what she wanted. Maybe it was time for Jazz to have a talk with Harley Quinn.

[Read on AO3][Read on FF]

---

There was only one person crazy enough to go back to Joker's Funhouse and start a bonfire on the roof.

It wasn’t a question of who could be waiting there, or what she wanted to talk about, but a matter of who was going to go there and talk to Harley Quinn, who had been in hiding for a while.

“It’s okay, I can take this one.”

There was silence on the other side of the comms - not that Jazz found it unusual. She knew that Bruce and the others thought of her, she knew they didn’t exactly accept her or liked her, in the case of Timothy and Bruce at least.

She tried to not let it get to her, but Jason was extra sweet anytime they went there for a visit, so he knew she didn’t have a good time on these visits.

“Are you sure?” Batman’s voice betrayed nothing of his actual thoughts. “Harley can be-”

“Positive,” she didn’t let him undermine her authority again. “I’ll deal with her. Will update later.”

Jazz turned off the comms with a sigh, conflicted. She had been taking turns with Jason on who patrols every night, and when it was her, coordination was impossible with the bats - and it didn’t have to do with the tentative truce they had going on.

She was as capable as her partner but every damn time she tried to take initiative and deal with things on her own she was second guessed and subtly questioned.

It was tiring.

Jason knew, of course, and he said he would talk to Bruce about it, but she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it so she asked him to give Bruce a chance to come around on his own.

She really wanted to stay positive, to focus on what was important and what they wanted to achieve in Gotham - family or no family, she followed Jason to the city and no matter how much it hurt to be painfully aware of not being wanted, she would still be at his side as long as he wanted her.

(And he did want her. He wasn’t good with his words, but always tried to let her know he wanted her there.)

It was easier playing the anti-hero of Gotham with him, but sadly tonight Jason was busy and he wouldn’t be able to give her warmth to fight the ghosts of her past.

But for the moment, she could deal with Harley on her own.

She was just a human woman, no matter what others said. No matter what Bruce said. Misguided, yes. Violent, yes. Erratic, also yes.

But evil?

Harley wasn’t like Joker - she cared about things, about Gotham, about people.

Jazz landed on the rooftop of the abandoned building without making a sound, but still made her steps noticeable for the woman looking up at the stars.

“You cannot see stars in Gotham,” Harley commented, munching on some food. “It’s a shame. Smores?”

The Ghost removed her mouth cover and sat down next to the woman, accepting the freshly made smore.

It was delicious.

(Danny would have liked it.)

“That you cannot see them doesn’t mean they aren’t there. Even in the darkest night with thickest clouds there is that invisible light.”

Harley pondered her words for a second, humming. Her expression betrayed nothing of her thoughts.

“Is that what you are? An invisible light?”

Jazz hadn’t said that with that meaning, but didn’t want to elaborate. She shrugged.

Harley’s eyes zeroed on the gesture. She hummed again, tilting her head, observing her as much as Jazz was observing the rogue.

“Is he really dead?”

“Yes.” After a moment of hesitation, she added: “I killed him myself.”

It would be too much information to share that the Spirit of Gotham possessed her body and used her as an instrument, a conscious puppet consenting to be a medium for revenge. Gotham wanted the clown dead, and Jazz was more than happy to help.

Harley narrowed her eyes. “He has been back before.”

“Not this time. He is not coming back, I swear.” Jazz shoved the rest of the cooling smore in her mouth, her mind going back to the feeling of Joker’s warm blood on her hands, on her face. It was everywhere, her vision completely red. “Slit his throat so he wouldn’t have the last laugh either.”

That had been all hers, though. She found his voice annoying as hell.

The other woman threw her head back and hollered at the night sky, unbothered by the noise. She had a nice voice, a nice laugh. More authentic than the other clown. Whoever considered her to be a mere sidekick, a bland copy of Joker, never heard her laugh.

“Good riddance.”

Jazz nodded, sharing the sentiment.

“Did it hurt?”

“When I fell from heaven?”

Harley laughed again. “I like you, girlie.” She shook her head, as if trying to also shake away the heavy air that had been covering her like a shroud. “Did you make it hurt?”

Jazz watched as Harley made another s’more at the bonfire, vaguely registering the kindle was all rubble from the Funhouse. Her eyes stayed on the burning smiling face of the Joker, maybe a poster or something, remembering his face as he realized he wasn’t going to bounce back from her attack.

“I think it hurt more to know he wouldn’t make a spectacle out of it. We kidnapped him directly in front of Black Mask’s face and then killed him in an abandoned building no one cared about.”

Jazz accepted the new s’more, blowing on it to cool the melted sugar down.

Joker had pleaded, he had begged, he had offered cash. He had offered her a 50% cut of his operations. He had asked if Red Hood paid her enough for this. If he was worth it.

If he had anything else to say about her partner, she didn’t know, since that’s when she decided to cut his vocal chords.

“And if someone saw, they only saw Hood’s baiting Batman into direct confrontation. He is the flashy one for a reason. I take care of the covert stuff.”

Harley hummed, finishing making her own s’more.

“Does he- I mean, not that I’m trying to meddle or anything - For reals! I just… you know, I just-”

“Just ask it, I’m not going to get mad.”

The woman didn’t look convinced but nodded anyway.

“Does he treat you right?”

Honestly? She should have expected the question, given current company.

Jazz knew what people whispered behind her back, and it wasn’t just the “Ghost” identity they had given her already.

Hades and Persephone, Bonnie and Clyde… Joker and Harley. As they settled into the roles of Heads of the Crime Underworld of Gotham, it was inevitable that their story got romanticized to hell and back. It didn’t help that they weren’t hiding their relationship - many times they had held hands and leaned on each other in places they could be seen, and people talked in the Underworld. Damn gossips.

They didn’t mind whatever people said about them, but comparisons were inevitable, and it didn’t surprise them when rumors of a new Prince of Crime and his own Harley arrived to their ears.

Soon it was obvious that the Ghost was no Harley, that she had an equal role in the new organization, that she was as deadly and in charge as her partner; but the damage was already done. People were a bit rougher with her, expecting her to fold, expecting her to crumble and call for “her boo”.

Expecting her to go insane.

“I mean, not that I could actually give any legal advice,” Harley continued talking when Jazz didn’t say anything, “my license was revoked. I’m just- Well, I don’t know what I wanted to do, actually.”

“He treats me well.”

Harley abandoned all pretense and turned to fully look at her in the eyes.

“Are you sure, honey? I’ve heard-”

Jazz hummed, lifting one hand to stop the other woman. “Whatever you heard is not true. Him and I… we understand each other. And our relationship is based on trust.” At Harley’s raised eyebrow, she added: “Is not easy, it is not without its problems, but distrust almost cost us everything once already.”

Silence fell on them as they looked at each other, analyzing each other.

“You love him.” A nod. “And he loves you.”

“Without doubt.”

“He told you? With actual words?”

“Yes.” She looked away. “Many times.”

Since that day where they worded their actual feelings, it came easier and easier to say it. She said “I love you” when he made her favorite tea, he said “I love you” when she cuddled to his side to read on a quiet afternoon. He said I love you without words more often than not, with kisses and touches and soft gestures - but he noticed she enjoyed it more when he said the words.

Jazz felt her cheeks burn thinking about it. It was still quite new, but not unwelcome; she really enjoyed his smooth voice dipping lower when he said those words in the dark of the night, when they were in bed.

“So it’s real.”

“Huh?”

Harley laughed again, giggling into her hand. “You really love him.”

Jazz didn’t know what to respond so she didn’t say anything.

“Good.” She nodded a few times, decided. “You guys can stay, then.”

Both chuckled at the idea. If it seriously came to it, Jazz was confident she could overpower Quinn, even more with Jason at her side, but the sentiment was nice. It was good to know that there were people in Gotham ready to fight if another Joker rose to power.

Jazz felt the presence before Ivy made her appearance, but she didn’t act on it. Better to not act wary or antagonistic, first impressions and all of that.

“Darling,” Pamela’s voice was smooth like honey, but hid as many thorns as her vines. “What are you doing talking to The Ghost?”

The exasperation as she said it made it sound like this was a common argument.

“Red!” Harley launched herself to the woman’s arms, hugging her as hard she could. “I just wanted to have a chat.”

Ivy hugged her girlfriend back, but her eyes stayed on Jazz’s, distrust evident in her expression.

“We are cool, we are cool!” Harley insisted. “Just needed to check a few things but we are besties now, right, Ghost?”

Jazz stood up in one movement, smiling at the pair. It was no secret that these two were together, and the amount of mischief they got up to was astronomical - but neither actually had stepped on their Crime Empire’s toes, so they never had to interact before.

“The bestest of friends.”

“See? I told you there was nothing to fear-”

Jazz ignored them when her phone pinged, taking it out to see who was writing to her. Jason, checking in that Harley hadn’t tried anything suspicious and if she was okay. She texted back that everything was fine and that Harley was actually very fun to talk to.

>Good

>There’s pizza for dinner btw, and I made extra dough

Was he implying…?

>> Are you sure?

> I think it’s time we introduce ourselves to the Sirens

They had discussed revealing themselves to other rogues, the ones they could make some kind of functional network with. They didn’t have to be friends, but a certain amount of trust so they stayed put and didn’t try anything funny like undermine their authority or try to overthrow them.

The Sirens were a good first option. Never after making a power play but always ready to make deals with the big fish in case it came in handy later on.

“I said, he’s cool!” Jazz looked up to find Harley pouting and stomping her foot a bit. “Hood is not like him.”

“Because she said so?” Pamela pointed at Jazz. “No offense.”

“None taken. Actually, you guys can meet him in person if you want? He is making pizza and said there’s enough for everyone.”

Ivy narrowed her eyes.

“There’s stuff for a vegetarian one, if you wish.”

“I want mine with extra pepperoni!” Harley lifted her hand, all smiles and excitement, nothing like the worried abuse survivor Jazz found making s’mores in the cold night. “And olives. Do you guys have olives?”

“I can ask.”

Both turned to check on Pamela, Harley’s puppy eyes doing wonders to make the woman cave in.

“Just one pizza and we are gone.”

Jazz smiled as Harley cheered. It was nice seeing Harley so happy, so alive. She never met her back when she was still with Joker, but she had seen enough footage to see the difference now.

It made sense that she was worried that another Harley Quinn situation could happen to her. It felt nice, having someone care for her like that.

Like an older sister.

(Was this how Danny felt?)

Jazz shook her head. Being stuck in the past was no good, is not what Danny would have wanted of her. She was sure of it - he would have laughed at her being all fuzzy thinking about her boyfriend, smiled at her trying to be a serious crimelord, and enjoyed flying around Gotham’s skyscrapers with her.

Some days, it was difficult to keep that in mind.

Today it was easy, though, thinking about the warm kitchen waiting for her, thinking of Jason humming to a song on the radio as he prepared the pizzas, a safe haven from all the noise and the fights for power, and Batman’s distrust and Tim’s subtle poking for details about her brother’s death.

“Pizza!” Harley screeched, jumping into Ivy’s arms so she could carry her towards their destination.

Jazz smiled, stomped on the bonfire to kill it off, and jumped from the roof without checking if they followed.

Jason was safe. Was quiet. He provided a comfortable silence where she could cry and laugh and mourn and experience joy without the pressure of honoring Danny’s memory or not. Jason never expected her to. He never expected her to be anything. Sweet, sweet nothing.

There was no one else she would build a Crime Empire with.

---

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[marveldcfan105]

Joker is a complete monster!

In General

Although he is absolutely and unbelievably crazy and out of his mind, he possesses a clear moral agency and is sane enough to be held accountable for his crimes. He is aware of his actions; he can meticulously plan and premeditate crimes and atrocities and manipulate people into doing his bidding so much that his psychosis does not excuse or even mitigate the gravity of his heinous crimes, as he is willing to repeat them until the day he dies.

While it is arguable that his moral agency may have been messed with, due to his falling into the chemical toxic waste, he still has shown to make decisions on whether he should change his ways or not. And the worst is the Joker has demonstrated through words and actions that he knows what he does is wrong, but he doesn't care.

Although Gotham has many villains and is notorious for its abnormal amounts of crime, he stands out as one of the worst, if not the worst. He murders and tortures nearly anybody, not to accomplish any real goal but simply because he enjoys seeing others suffer (including himself). He has murdered more than enough people, including children, to fill entire graveyards and would not even mind his own death as he is a nihilist.

He constantly abuses Harley Quinn, both emotionally and physically, despite everything Harley has done for him.

Furthermore, in Suicide Squad (v4) #15, when Harley Quinn joins the Suicide Squad after his disappearance and starts a new life, when the Joker comes back again, furious at Harley Quinn's new life without him, he subjects her to brutal tortures and then throws her in a basement full of corpses revealed to be the former "Harley Quinns" before her, showing she was not the first "girlfriend" the Joker had and regularly abused.

He tries to make Batman break his moral code and degrade him to his level, and sometimes he tries to kill him.

Despite having comedic moments, none of them lighten the mood of the story, due to his dark and twisted sense of humor and he is always taken seriously, with Batman even wanting him to be taken down for good.

Post-Crisis/New 52

In The Man Who Laughs, he kills several billionaires and powerful people in Gotham, along with an innocent journalist, with his poison, and then tries to poison all the water in Gotham City for no real reason.

In The Killing Joke, he crippled and paralyzed Barbara Gordon by shooting her in the stomach. After crippling Barbara, he tortured her father, Commissioner Gordon, with pictures of his daughter's naked and broken body.

In The Long Halloween, he kills several ground crew members to steal a plane with which he would kill the people who were in Gotham Square with his Joker gas.

In Dark Victory, he causes a shootout in the Falcone building, killing several people, then invades Alberto Falcone's house, killing the butler Angelo Mirti, throwing Sofia Falcone down the stairs, and then trying to kill her.

He kidnapped and tried to kill every newborn in Gotham to break the city's spirit in Batman: No Man's Land.

In No Man's Land, he killed Commissioner James Gordon's second wife (Sarah Essen-Gordon) by shooting her in the head while she was protecting 36 infants from a maternity ward whom Joker kidnapped for the above-mentioned plan. Ultimately, the Joker left the babies unharmed but on their own with Sarah's corpse.

While he was not amused by Sarah Essen's death and turned himselfintoo the police immediately after, it is never actually stated if Joker had any moral qualms with the act or if he just didn't find it to be funny. However, it should be noted that the former is very unlikely due to the Joker's lack of remorse for doing the deed and even finding it amusing when Jim Gordon shot him in the knee over it.

While he also left the babies alone, this could have been a type of sadistic mercy so that they could be left traumatized by Sarah's death.

In A Death in the Family, he beats Jason Todd with a crowbar and kills him and his mother with a time bomb. Some years later, Jason was revived by Ra's al Ghul's Lazarus Pit and became a killer known as Red Hood. He also sold nuclear weapons to Arab terrorists.

Blew up an entire school filled with children in Batman: Cacophony.

In Joker: Last Laugh, he tried to infect the entire world with his Joker venom in the form of "crazy rain" when he thought he was dying.

Melted Alexander Luthor's face with acid and shot him to death in Infinite Crisis #7, all because he didn't get invited to join his secret society of supervillains.

He beats up the Scarecrow, one of the few Batman villains who may outclass him in terms of sheer destructiveness at times, with a chair after his fellow villain betrayed him.

[teleportationmagic]

She expects Superman. Joker was a Gotham rouge, and they were not exactly lacking in crazies going around and destroying things. What she doesn’t expect is him to come to her.

“I need help.” He says one day, appearing in the Clocktower like magic.

Three days ago her father died. Six days ago Dick died. And she was still waiting to see who would arrange Bruce’s funeral. “My help?”

“Yes.” The Joker was dead. Barbara had felt something, seven days ago, but now she was just shoulders-deep in grief, and it was difficult to care about it. About any of it. The letters on her computer had turned to mush a while ago. And oh – she’d forgotten.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

He nods, brief, and then averts his eyes. “I’m sorry for yours.”

Which one? She wants to ask, but that feels insensitive. She’s capable of sensitivity. She was, at least.

He coughs, faintly, and then stands up straight. For a moment, all she can see in it is Kate’s straight-backed militarism, and it looks so weird on him. Like seeing Santa Claus with a cigarette. “Gotham is a mess.”

“I’m aware.” You’d be hard pressed to find anyone who was more aware. But Superman was a good bet.

“The Joker had been allowed to fester for too long, but he’s not the only one of your rouges. Your madmen. And this city keeps cranking out more.”

Her fingers tighten on her armrest. “Are you trying to make a point, Clark?” She’s knows he can level the whole city in an afternoon. She knows that he’s falling apart, and that she is too, but still, this is her city. And even if he is Superman, she can’t let him hurt it. She won’t.

“Someone needs to keep a closer leash on it.” He steps towards the window, light playing across the folds of his face. He’s aged badly in the last few weeks. Barbara didn’t know Kyptonians could do that. “But I’m not the right person for that job.”

“Why not? You’ve gone a lot farther than your normal stomping ground over the last few days.”

“Because I can’t stand this city. And that’s not fair to the people who live in it.” His gaze lands on her like a weight. “But it is your’s. And Oracle’s ears are nearly as good as mine. All I’m asking is for you to expand your operations to cut the problem off, and to hand over the rogues who continue to be a problem.”

Joker died seven days ago. She knows what hand over means in this context. But: no one had died from him either. A week with Joker outside of Arkham, and no one has died from him. He fucked around and fucked around and hurt her and killed Jason, and now he was dead because he found a threat too big for him and made it merciless.

Bruce might have thought it was a tragedy he was dead �� that he was a person too. Cassandra certainly does. But maybe it’s cowardly of her, but she’s tired. She’s tired, and he’s dead, and when Tim and Steph and Damian come back, she’s less worried that they got themselves killed because the Joker happened to want their attention, that day, and unleashed his idea of a prank.

“Alright.” She already has ideas percolating – with the threat of Superman behind them, would Ivy or Harley stay on that side of the law? Would Freeze? Scarecrow would need to be given over, but Two Face was a bit more of a crapshoot, and maybe Ivy could convince Waylon to keep his head down for good.

But if they wanted to stop the problem – really solve it, not just patch it up – they need people to stop sliding down the road from citizen to criminal to mass murder. Not that holding their tongues while some rich counsellors lined their pockets was altogether acceptable either.

“I’ll give you a list soon.” And he nods at her demand, before he disappears.

She needs to call the rest of the family. At least, the ones of them left. This means change, change for all of them, she didn’t think she could do it on her own.

She hopes it will be a good week for it.

Something I kind of want to write is an injustice universe Barbara au, where she is the unseen and unknown ruler of Gotham ~from the shadowwwws~.

Ft

Cass as her right hand, by day the heiress of the Wayne family fortune and by night a shadow around Gotham

Steph as her left hand and also the mayor of Gotham city

Dead Bruce and Dick and Gordon

Damian who swings into the city from time to time as a Superman liaison

Tim who had at some point just flat out left, and is trying to make some headway in the city from the outside but there also the matter of the fascist Superman to try to struggle against

He is in many ways the last remnant of the Bats outside Gotham, and takes up a lot of the roles of Injustice!Batman

Duke who is trying to figure out vigilantism and rebellion in a place where there are no secrets

WAR is also definitely involved as a decentralized network of people trying to pull at the threads and have some real freedom

Enter: Bruce/Dick/Babs? and maybe Tim? or Damian? or Steph/Cass? two or three out of that list - but from a kinder version of the timeline, all trying to follow the threads to figure out who is the leader of Gotham city, while Barbara is playing a cat and mouse game to keep the suspicion off of her.

It opens with Dick and Bruce go to the library, trying to figure out what the hell is going on, and Barbara reaching out to help.

[just-an-enby-lemon]

okay no pressure at all but oh my god PLEASE tell me abt your riddler lore I'm literally all ears

Okay. I have a lot of things and also not at all. So I will give some details and maybe elaborate it later.

- He was born in Gotham but raised in Metropolis. He HATES Metropolis. He isn't the biggest Gotham fan either, but he really really dislikes Metropolis.

- He made a promisse to never again change for the sake of other people at age twenty and that it's the more important thing in his rather flimsy moral code.

- The only time he cheated in a puzzle was when he was ten in school on a context for all Metropolis students were the winner would get to meet Lex Luthor. His dad and a lot of his teachers knew he had cheated but coudn't prove. That made they believe he always cheated and that he wasn't truly a genius.

- While Lex used to be his childhood hero, adult Edward HATES Luthor.

- He changed his name at age sixteen and moved back to Gotham. He never went to college. School had made him hate formal academia.

- Sometimes he repeats sentences, always to a prime number, mostly three times, because of his OCD.

- He goes to Oswald private room a lot during his visits to the Iceberg because he has sensorial inssues or because the number of guests, drinks or the position of the tabbles was annoying him. He used to just change the position and/or expulse guests and later to complain to Oswald but that was the better solution. If Oswald wasn't his friend he would have been permanently banned.

- He rarely kills. He only does it if he is sure the person has absolutly no future potential or if they are triggering one of his compulsive episodes. A normal Riddler will not kill you, but if you are in his way to leaving a puzzle or figuring an answer he is obcessed with than he will not think twice.

- Has difficulty understanding other people emotions. He can read their motives like data but the emotion behind it? Absolutly not. He accidentaly angers people a lot because he is unnable to realize he is doing it.

- Treats his henchpeople pretty well, he had his intelectual property stolen by cooporations before becoming the Riddler and he was a working class kid, he knows the importance of unions and workers rights. Also most of his henchpeople could beat him up pretty badly so better not to risk.

- Query and Ecco are less employers and more friends. Contrary to popular belief he never slept with them (except sleep in the sofa during movie night) and never wanted to. They are friends and the girls date.

- Hates cops. Really hates cops.

- He and Ivvy are the most political aware Rogues. Unfortunally they hate each other. Particulary because on their first meeting Edward kept teeling plant facts to Ivvy and Pamela considered it pretty condesceding after all she has a doctorate in botanical biology, she doesn't need a man teling her things about her expert area as if she will be shocked by it. They still have to interact to each other a lot because Edward is friends with Harley and Selina. Later Pam and Eddie become friends over having to help Batman rescue Selina from Joker but it takes a looong time.

- It's the pettiest man alive. Will throw tantrums over the smallest things.

- Expensive clothes. Expensive tastes. Cares a LOT about his aparence. Was called a dandy multiple times by multiple people including Amanda Waller, Scarecrow and Green Arrow. This people in particular also called him fruity at least once. He has no idea if they meant as an observation or a slur (exept Waller, Waller totaly meant it as a slur).

- Started as a villan at age twenty-two.

- Robins use him to help with their homework.

- Black Canary once sended him a questionary in Arkham to help her get ready for the Justice League Quiz Night (Batman had to miss because he had a parent-teacher reunion on Damian school and suddently anyone could be the winner it was great).

- Provided the questions for the Justice League Quiz Night more often than not. He has no idea of this fact.

- Provides the questions for the Iceberg Lounge quiznight. But was forbiden to host it after entering in too much fights over dumb answers.

- Has some small question mark shaped scars and the first 12 numbers of PI shaped scar in his arms because he used to draw it in his skin with a switchblade when having an episode. The only good thing Arkham ever did to him was that he was able to stop doing that and start to just draw then with a green marker instead. He does have a big question mark shapped scar in his chest that he got from police brutality and that he lies it's a tatoo even though it's very obviusly not a tatoo.

- He has a very high pain tolerance but also a very low one. He will take a lot to be taken down but he will scream like a litte girl over it even if it a very small bump.

- He had an adverse reaction to Arkham medication once and had a convulsion and ended up in the enfermary for days. Ever since he hates meds and unless he has no choice will only pretend to take then and spill it out.

- It's the second Batman Rogue with higher rehabilitation chance according to Tim Drake villan list, losing only for Harley (Ivvy does not get second because her rehabilitation is only viable if Harley convinces her, she won't do it by herself, Batman places him as third and Harvey as first but Tim thinks is just Bruce being too hopefull with Harvey, Kiteman isn't on the list because he is not a treat).

- In my AUverse he did help Steph during her early Spoiler days, mostly as a revenge to Cluemaster but also because he thinks of Steph as a niece though he will never admit it.

- Loves to steal art. He keeps some of it. Seels the rest and if he is feeling nice he just sends some back to their country of origin.

- He can draw pretty well and does art comissions under a fake name on Tumbrl/Twitter when bored. He also posts fanart. Mostly Batman. But also some fandom fannart. His fanart were a great adition to the Gravity Falls fandom for one. That being said if you don't credit the fannart he will send an impossible virus to your PC.

- Security companies are forbiddem to tell they are imprenatrable in Gotham because both Riddler and Catwoman see that as a personal challenge.

- He sold state secrets. He also just divulgued state secrets online. He has some state secrets hiden that he just never felt like telling anyone becauee what it's the point of a secret if everyone knows it.

- Has compromising information about EVERYONE but he won't divulgue it unprovoked. He hates to have to stop the fun of being the only one to know but his pettiness speaks louder.

- Knows most heros secret identities including all the batfamily he just can't tell them because what would be the point? Different of Hush Riddler he never really did anything with it besides teasing.

- The only time he used his knowledge of heros identities was when he needed to go to an high society party to figure the answer to a puzzle (and meet a famous artist he was a huge fan of) and he sended an e-mail convincing Oliver Queen that if he wasn't his plus one he would spoil his secret identity with proof. He choose Oliver because Bruce was hard to threaten and he would porbably just be beaten by Batman or worse Bruce would take him and purposifully make soo he coudn't met the guy.

- Actually needs his cane for mobility because of a childhood injury (ironicaly not caused by his dad).

- Is a great swordsman. Also uses his cane for it.

Yeah. I think that is it. If you have some specific question about him or about my versions of the rogues feel free to ask. And thank you for the question it was fun.

[poisonousquinzel]

https://lady-ha-ha.tumblr.com/post/160715688748/is-that-comic-before-the-reboot-and-which-one-is

(I have not read this comic) Is this true? (if so, ivy deserves someone better).

Post

Kay, first off both of those people are Jarley shippers so take everything they say with a grain of salt and then some, cause no. that part isn't about how much Harley loves Joker and will always choose him over Ivy. Literally you can tell ops don't know what they're talking about cause her whole thing in those issues is going to kill him for years of graphic abuse but ultimately falls back with him once she’s face to face with him.

Like wow, congrats on missing the fucking point again but not surprised from people who ship her with The Fucking Joker.

also, ffs, can anyone please have basic comprehension skills and realize that Harley and Ivy are both fucked up sometimes because they’ve got issues and that’s not comparable to Joker’s long ass history of graphic and disgusting abuse.

Harley and Ivy are villains, they're not a wholesome cookie cutter, White Picket Fence, super vanilla ship with no bad moments. They're both bad guys with a fuck ton of trauma that they both have to work through, and have done so at this point. 

Gotham City Sirens was published between 2009 - 2011, Harley and Ivy weren't blatantly romantic at this point nor had they had anywhere near the development that they’ve had at this point.

Like don’t go into Harlivy content expecting them to be the perfect wlw rep with no flaws during their arcs from BTAS to current time cause that’s just not realistic. They’re both deeply flawed people who’ve got a fuck ton of trauma that they need to (and have) worked through. 

I have talked about the BTAS issues here and this post is good at explaining them too. 

X

X

Harlivy is not and has never been a purely wholesome, goody-goody ship. They’re messy, they have issues, and they have bad moments sometimes, but they both worked through their seperate trauma and came out stronger and better because at the end of the day, they care about each other. 

Harlivy has messy, toxic moments sometimes, but they’re not, and have never been, abusive. There’s a difference between unhealthy moments and a ship being abusive. 

That’s completely different to how Joker acts Constantly, because he does not care that his actions towards Harley are abusive, because he doesn’t give a shit about her. 

He enjoys hurting her. He enjoys ruining her. 

Jarley has always been intended to be written and shown as a domestically abusive relationship.

This is also the first instance where it's directly referenced that there's something more than platonic between her and Ivy, other than the reference in Batgirl Adventures. 

Gotham City Sirens is also not connected to any verses.

This didn’t happen in the timeline we’re in rn with Harley Quinn (2014)/(2016)/(2021).

Comic timelines and shit are stupid and make everything more confusing and awful and I hate it sdfjdksksdkjsd

-

this is gonna be a long post since ops wanna just cut and paste random bits of the issues like jarley stans always do (cause jarley never has good moments that aren’t entirely surrounded by him abusing her) I’m going to show them in full context. *added a keep reading cause it is a lot

(All panels shown are from #15, #18, #19, #20, #21, #23, #24, #25)

So, Harley's entire thing at this point in the GCS comic in that she's been triggered by flashbacks of Joker's abuse and she breaks into Arkham with the intent to kill him.

The entire thing in these issues is showing her smarts and how she knows people's trump cards to get under their skin so she can break into Arkham. 

She’s trained to identify these things in people and she's fucking good at pushing people's buttons. 

this is also just one of my fav Harley covers so I wanted to show it jsdjksdks

“Trump cards. Everyone has one. Places where the armor we build around ourselves is weakest.” 

She’s right. And it’s now shown that Harley’s willing to use those below the belt trump cards if she has to.  

And frankly, I’d say this is worse than what she says to Ivy. And I’m not surprised she did it. She didn’t want to, she tried to get him to just open the door - 

“Don’t make me do this, Aaron. There are some secrets that should stay hidden. Things you should never learn about your own life.” 

but she’s also entirely fueled by rage and the desire to kill Joker. She came here for a reason and she’s not leaving until she’s done it.

“I’m going to kill you. For everything you’ve done to me. All the times you’ve made me feel useless and small. For all the times I will never forget. For all the things I can never forgive. All the memories -”

“Hello, Harley. I’ve missed you.” 

“Memories. That’s all I have left. The past is gone and all I have is... memories. 

Memories.

Memory. 

Gone.

I guess I too have a trump card.”

“Oh, Ivy. You know exactly what my answer is going to be. But you’re hoping you’re wrong, aren’t you?”

She’s also right about this, they already mentioned this in #18.

“How did I become the bad guy?”

“You’re the one choosing a man over her girls.”

“Are you kidding me? You would never say that to Harley, and we both know she’d dumb us in a flat second if Joker called her.”

“Hey! That’s not fair-- Actually, that’s probably true.”

“The difference is, she can’t help it. You can. And she’s working on it. You’re not working on it.” 

“Too easy, Ivy. Too easy. I know your weak spots. Now I just need to push.”

This is exactly what she’s been doing since the starting point of this post. She’s still in that mindset and she knows she can’t beat her on a regular battle field. Neither of them can. 

“Like I said-- You beat me in any level playing field. But I don’t fight on those fields.” 

Harley’s biggest strength as a villain is her ability to completely mentally stall her opponents and learn their weak spots. She wouldn’t win against the majority of the Big Bads if she didn’t fight on a different field than they are. 

so, like yeah, out of context what she says to Ivy seems awful and completely screwed up, and it is, but it’s also built up really well and it’s completely in character for her at this point in her fall during these issues. 

Is what she did fucked? absolutely. It’s not painted that it’s not. 

Ivy Literally Goes To Kill Her For It.

In the end of this all three of them are recaptured by Catwoman and Batman and that’s where we’re starting off at again. 

“Oh, Harley.

The only human I’ve ever called a friend.

To what lengths will I go? Where are my own limits? She is the Strangler fig. And I am the tree, choking underneath. 

Without me, she could never grow. 

But without her, I would fall if I grew too tall.” 

“Will she ever stand by herself? 

Will she ever be ready? 

She is in throes of madness. She sees him, her brain flooding with adrenaline, it makes her excited, nervous, then the feelings start to fade, and she needs more. And more. 

She sees it as passion. She sees it as love. 

But it’s not. It’s addiction. And she’s relapsing.” 

Ivy is well aware of the nature of their relationship. She’s not stupid and she’s been shown already to know that it’s something that takes time. It’s not a one off break up and it’s over. That’s not how abusve relationships work. 

What do I do?

I could use my pheromones to alter her brain chemistry.

I could leave her behind abandoning her to the wilds of her own mind.

I could kill her right now.

Show her how red Nature can be.

There's one other option.

It would require patience.

Even love.

Maybe I'm more human than I want to admit.

"You have one chance to answer this."

I know, if she agrees, she'll be doing it for revenge. For him.

"She put us behind bars."

But maybe if I get away from this place, if I give her something else to think about. Maybe she can break the cycle. But it has to be her choice.

"I'm going to kill her. Come with me."

So yeah, it’s definitely not a just “Harley hurts her and runs off with Joker and it’s just a plain ol’ her choosing him over everyone and that’s that.” 

Jarley shippers love to just reduce all her scenes and arcs down to their “epic love” and shit, but that’s taking away literally everything about her and reducing it down to the 3 panels that they’re “cute” in. Her arc in this part is fucking heartbreaking to read.

And Ivy damn well knows what’s going on with her. She’s smart and she’s the one that’s been there throughout all of this. She found her in the park after he shot her out of a rocket. 

And she knows it’ll take time for Harley to get over and through his manipulation, that’s just how it works with abusive relationships. 

But she’s also not forgiving at first, she’s mad and rightfully so, until she sees the sate of Harley’s cell and realizes how bad her addiction is at that time.

A lot of the unhealthy moments on Harley’s side when it comes to them are directly caused from the effects of being in an abusive relationship with Joker. Because she’s always in this area of her journey in those moments. She’s never fully over him or emancipated. 

And that’s realistic. It’s hard sometimes to be friends with someone who’s in abusive relationships like theirs, having to watch them return to that person time and time again and it’s frustrating after a while. 

I know from personal experience, it’s really hard to watch someone you care about go back or forgive someone that continues to hurt them. 

But abuse victims desperately need a support system outside of their abuser. It’s a crucial part of being able to escape, because when they do try to get out they need someone there or they’ll literally have no where to go but back into their abuser’s arms.

It’s heartbreaking and it’s really rough for everyone effected, but that’s just how it is most of the time. Especially in their case, as they’re not just regular folk dealing with this. 

If she doesn’t have Ivy, Harley has no one else to go to but Joker, on more than just an emotional level. 

She’s lost her job. Her income. Her home. Her livelihood. Her everything.

Most of the time she has no other choice but to return to a life of crime after she’s released from Arkham because she can’t get a job, she’s a notorious criminal and she’s got a lot of issues that don’t just disappear with a bit of therapy. 

She has no other choice but to return to Joker because the other alternative is the streets. At least she knows what to expect with him. 

And that’s not even getting into the manipulation, gaslighting and degrading abuse that he drills into her constantly. 

He’s made her believe she’s not anything without him. That she’s not smart or useful or anything. 

And that’s why it’s so damn important for her to have a support system and why he’s so damn against Ivy. 

Because Ivy is the good voice on her shoulder telling her he’s wrong and that she doesn’t deserve that. 

-

And on Ivy’s side, she’s aware she gets very near cutting off all parts of her humanity. 

She’s a plant goddess, she’s insanely powerful and she feels everything through the green. Frankly, she’s not even on the same playing field as these villains. She’s significanty more powerful than Harley and Joker. 

Her connection to Harley is what keeps her humanity in tack, because despite everything, she does care about her. She was the first person she let in, the first person Ivy called a friend. 

The person that was able to get through to her in #14/#15 when she was losing herself. The one that was able to get through to her that the dude was manipulating her. 

“Ivy, I know you think you love this guy... but you’re just gonna end up strapped to his rocket!”

She had to knock her out for the dude to trust her / not attack them anymore. But Harley got through to her by mentioning how they first met in the park when she saved her after Joker shot her off in a rocket.

And Ivy is understandable turned off towards humans considering her origin and trauma around that. 

She’s got a lot of trust issues.

But both of them work through their seperate traumas over the years because their affection for each other is stronger than the issues their trauma has given them.

-

and also, sometimes, they just have shit writers. that’s an issue overall in comic fandoms. Some writers just fucking suck at getting any of the characters right, let alone LGBT characters, who’re notoriously treated like garbage by DC. 

[androxys]

I finished reading it! I think this comic is going to fall into the category of "this comic had lots of little moments or elements that I liked in isolation, and wish they had been developed elsewhere into other stories."

Like, I think the concept for Punchline as "villain who harnesses the way we consume media and utilizes public opinion as a weapon" is interesting! Certainly! I just think having her character foundation be "Joker's Girlfriend" doesn't do her any favors, and actively makes me have to work harder to suspend my disbelief.

This is obviously going to be a biased opinion, but I really do see The Character Of The Joker as being the characterization of an unsparing, uncaring evil. He doesn't care who he hurts. He doesn't do it for a reason. He does it just because he can, and because he believes the world is fundamentally cruel, and he thinks trying to find a meaning in it is the joke. At times, it's almost like Joker is aware that he's a character, as if he knows that he can kill or maim or do any sort of evil, and he can be put away, but he knows that another plot will need him again and he'll get to do it all again. To him, it's pointless, and that's funny.

Conversely, it seems that a good chunk Punchline's whole origin and MO is her belief that there's some secret message that the Joker is trying to spread with his crimes. That she's obsessing over trying to discern and then share whatever grander design Joker has been weaving.

And to me, those two things are incompatible! Joker may think it's funny to string her along, that Alexis herself is a joke to him because she thinks there's a meaning to it all. But in this story, we don't see that. Joker's not even here. It's just Alexis, who's portrayed as this schemer who's winning hearts and minds for the single most hated man in Gotham City.

Now, I realize that a lot of this is me viewing this woman's story entirely in the context of a man who doesn't even really appear in the comic. But I feel that's part of what the comic wants, too? Like, her Moment On The Stand is when she talks about how she's just a woman next to the Joker, who didn't commit any crimes that the jury can prove, and is being punished as his proxy. But then off the stand, she doesn't really make any big claims to her own goals? See above, how her entire premise is that the Joker is her hero and she wants to broadcast the deeper message to his madness.

And this… just doesn't seem to be sustainable to me. I will now commit the sin of pitting two women against each other, but it's impossible to think of Punchline without also thinking about Harley Quinn. Because for, what, 30 years? Harley occupied the position of Joker's girlfriend. And Alexis hates her, because she was just crazy and in love with the Joker, but Punchline is in love with his meaning. (Which again, I feel her version of his meaning is actually incompatible with what I feel the Joker's actual meaning is.) But I actually feel, and again, I cannot stress enough how personal all this is, that Harley's love for Joker was more compelling in some ways? Because she was a tragic character in mad love with a man who didn't exist, and never existed, but who actively manipulated her so that she would keep coming back. And Punchline is equally in love with a thing that doesn't exist, but it's never displayed as a tragic thing, but as if it actually does exist and we the reader just have to accept it as true.

This got long, but I guess to sum it up, I felt like I just kept waiting for all of it to fall apart. And that wasn't a pleasurable reading experience, for me personally.

I'm currently reading The Trial of Alexis Kaye, and I genuinely can't decide if I like it or if I really, really don't

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

I literally found this blog recently and it’s awesome! But for your alternative ending, I was wondering what would everyone’s reactions be of Marinette missing for 5 months, to fighting her?

I honestly wasn’t really sure what this ask was asking for. I ended up writing their feelings about her going missing and seeing her for the first time in months. Sorry if this wasn’t what you wanted :(

(Also, thank you!!)

First part

Second part

Next part

@solangelo252 asked to be tagged

Everyone ready? Let’s go!

Dick

Dick is the one who has to stay strong for the family. He’s always been aware of that. It’s fitting that the guy whose biological family died due to their lack of safety net as trapeze artists ended up being the emotional safety net for his adoptive family. He is always there with his calm smiles, his bad puns, his warm hugs.

… that being said, who was to be his safety net? Marinette had served that purpose as of late; many hours had been spent in a rented out gymnasium, stretching and venting about their problems. It was the closest he’d come to a give-and-take relationship emotionally since his parents had been alive.

But now Marinette was missing. How was he supposed to vent about his anxieties about the fact that she was missing when she wasn’t there to vent to? Could he somehow vent to himself?

No. But he had to stay strong. His family needed him to. Without the Grayson safety net, his family would fall into early graves yet again.

So, he’d pull on that perfect smile of his and get to work. He’d force everyone to eat and sleep, he’d go out on patrols and make sure no one broke The Rule or too many bones, he’d make sure they didn’t close themselves off emotionally, he’d remind them they weren’t at fault, he’d listen to their problems, give them advice, hug them, help them, help them help them helpthemhelpthemhelpthem --.

~

Days stretched endlessly but weeks whizzed by.

And then Marinette was there.

His eyes had landed on her and he almost couldn’t believe it. Maybe he’d finally snapped. He’d held in his emotions, his grief and his guilt and his anger, and he’d held them in too long. And now he was hallucinating her. Now his mind had created a new her.

Maybe he actually could vent to himself now.

But then he’d glanced at everyone else and found that they’d stopped walking, too. That their eyes were still glued on that one spot. That they could see her and she was there. She was really there.

Emotions bubbled in his throat and tears stung his eyes and she was there.

“Mari?” His broken voice broke through the silence.

She brought a hand up to rest over her heart, almost as if she wasn’t quite sure he was talking to her despite him using her name.

Jason spoke next. “Is that really you?”

“Maybe,” she’d said, a bitter smile stretching across her face.

But Dick didn’t care about the warning signs, about the new demeanor, about anything because she was THERE.

A hand grabbed the back of his shirt. Held him back. He hadn’t even realized he’d been moving towards her, but that didn’t matter to him. Because now he couldn’t reach her.

His gaze fell on Tim and his brother had better have a good explanation.

“You’re pale,” Tim pointed out, blue eyes never leaving hers.

She giggled a little, but it was a broken sound. It was the kind of laugh a person made when they were trying their hardest not to cry.

“Yeah. Lack of sunlight and chemical baths do that.”

Tim’s grip on his shirt had lessened but it wasn’t necessary at all anymore. Instead, an icy hand clutched his heart and held him there.

Because now he could take in the chill in the room despite the roaring fire under where Marinette had perched herself. The way her eyes were now a dull blue instead of the almost unnaturally bright shade they usually were.

He hadn’t been around to be her safety net, and now the Marinette he knew was dead and gone. He was staring at what was essentially Marinette’s corpse. She even had the pale, bloodless skin of one.

He’d failed her, and he had already learned that there’s nothing that can be done when someone’s already hit the ground.

Jason

It was his job to keep her safe, and yet he couldn’t do that. She’d been captured by the Rogues. It was possible she’d never come back. If she did come back she wouldn’t ever be the same.

And it was his fault.

He should have tried harder to get her to stop. Made her take a break when she’d accidentally killed that man in the convenience store. He’d killed before, he’d KNOWN how that would affect a person. He’d seen how distracted she’d been the previous few days, seen the cracks. He should have seen this coming. He should have benched her when he’d had the chance.

And now his protege -- his SISTER -- had been captured by the Rogues and who knew what kind of horrors she was facing at that moment.

Because they weren’t going to kill her. The Rogues were never that merciful, and especially not when they’d been slighted.

Marinette had betrayed them, had been sent in to pretend to be their friend and gather information and sabotage some plans. Rogues were many things, but they weren’t ones to fake being friends. They all knew their real standings with each other, their real opinions of each other, for good and for bad. No, to them, she was a heartless monster.

And they were going to make sure she paid dearly.

~

“Is that really you?” He asked, though he knew what the answer would be. There was no way she could still be the same her after what she must have endured.

And she’d said “Maybe”.

And, though he’d expected it, the confirmation and the way her voice had cracked just slightly on the word had made it all the more real.

“You’re pale,” Tim pointed out.

Oh god, he was right. She looked so much like…

“Yeah. Lack of sunlight and chemical baths do that.”

Jason’s heart clenched at the words ‘chemical baths’. Because he knew what that meant. He may not have been there for when Tim had become Joker Jr., but he hadn’t needed to be in order to know just how completely fucked she had to be. He’d heard about the weeks of torture he’d endured before Batman and Batgirl had found it. Seen the way his younger brother still tensed slightly upon seeing Joker or Harley.

Five months. Marinette hadn’t been gone for a few weeks like he had. She’d been gone for five months. If that was what he was like in less than a month, then what about her?

He wanted to wrap her up in his arms and never let go, to never let HER go again, to make sure she’d never come to harm.

But one thing was stopping him.

Because he remembered what Joker Jr. had been created to do. What she must have been forced to do.

And he could see how much she hated it. In the lines in her forehead, in the slump of her shoulders, in the sad smile playing across her lips.

But she was doing it. She felt like she had to do it thanks to whatever she’d endured.

She wasn’t meant for murder. She especially wouldn’t do well with murdering someone she had once cared for. Whatever pieces of her old self that remained would crumble to dust until she would be completely unrecognizable. Completely broken.

He’d failed her, she’d been hurt, and he was going to have to hurt her more in order to keep her from hurting herself.

Tim

You’d think that it would be easy to figure out where she was. After all, these were the biggest Rogues in Gotham. Surely, they couldn’t hide out for long without people noticing them.

But no.

Nothing. Common henchmen were out of jobs, competitors were encroaching on their territories, allies called for help… and yet they refused to make an appearance. It seemed the Rogues had just grabbed Marinette and gone off-world.

A painful memory kept replaying in his mind. Taunting him.

The two of them had been sitting on a park bench on one of their many not-exactly-a-date-but-yeah-it’s-basically-a-date things that they loved to go on.

He remembered her in the Red Robin themed hoodie. The brilliant smile she’d given him. The twinkle in her eyes. The teasing lilt to her voice as she explained why he was her favorite hero:

‘Of course! He’s super smart! I mean, I know Batman is supposed to be the greatest detective of all time or whatever but, considering ages and experience, I think that Red Robin is probably going to have him beat in… I don’t know, a few years?’

She’d been laying it on thick, he knew, she’d been aware of his identity by then and was doing it to fluster him… but he could tell she wasn’t lying. Even if that was more blunt than she tended to be, it was still what she really thought of him.

The memory used to make him blush. Now, it hurt.

He downed his third cup of coffee at the hour, eyes locked on the screen in front of him. There had to be SOMETHING. There was always something.

And, yet, there wasn’t. The place she’d been taken had clearly been prepped for her kidnapping. There was hardly any blood anywhere outside of a bit on the wall where she must have hit it, someone must have set up a tarp or something. The only things they could find were the broken pieces of her comm and two ears. Forensics confirmed they were hers; the earrings they normally bore were missing, but they could hardly care about that when the first -- and likely tamest -- thing they’d done was cut off her ears.

That was it. There were footprints, sure, but they got lost in the millions of footprints on the streets of Gotham.

He threw his empty mug across the cave, but when it splintered on the ground he didn’t feel any better. It didn’t help him find her. 

~

The moment his eyes landed on her, he knew.

He could recognize that look anywhere. Bleached-white skin, cherry-red lips… her usual pigtails had been raised in an imitation of Harley’s signature look...

Just like Tim had been Joker Jr., she was now Harley Jr.

Part of him wanted to assure her that she would be fine, that he was living proof that she would be okay again eventually. The other part knew that it was a lie, that she, just like him, would likely never be fully ‘okay’ ever again.

He blinked away the tears threatening to spill over.

He should not have allowed Dick to make him sleep, should have widened the scope of his search, he should have simply done so much more than he had.

No mystery was completely unsolvable. He had to have missed something.

He’d failed her, and now she was paying the price for his shortcomings.

Damian

Mother had taught him that relationships were a liability. They made you weak. They made you lose.

Father and Richard had taught him that relationships were tricky, but they were worth having.

But, if relationships were worth having, why did they cause him so much pain?

First Father had died. Then Richard had ‘died’.

Those had been temporary, at least. He had started to have difficulty feeling sad when people died. There had been three deaths in the family since he’d joined including his own, and they always came back within a few months. It had started to feel like the Wayne family was untouchable.

Then Alfred had been killed brutally by Bane. Even now, years later, he had yet to make a miraculous reappearance.

So, no, they weren’t untouchable.

They were assuming she was alive, that the Rogues were keeping her around for some big thing. But, as time stretched on with no progress or proof that she was even alive, he started to lose hope. Why were they so quiet? What were they planning? Had those plans gone awry? The Rogues could never match him on impulse control, so something might have happened…

He told himself it didn’t matter if she was alright or not. He knew it was a lie.

Despite their rocky start, he’d found himself attaching to her far faster than he should have. He was regretting it now. Maybe he should have put a distance between them, maybe then this wouldn’t have hurt so much.

It didn’t help that he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about her. It was the little things that seemed to hurt the most. The smell of coffee or baked goods, the place where she’d scratched her initials into a chair to claim it as hers, even the color red...

It was making it hard, if he were to be honest, to fight properly. He was constantly distracted. His mother had been right, his attachment to her was making him weak.

Not to mention the ring on his finger... He couldn’t bring himself to transform, not without his partner. Part of him wanted to tear it off his finger, to toss it off a pier and get rid of the constant reminder that she was gone, but he couldn’t.

It was all he had left of her, after all.

~

“Is that really you?”

“Maybe.”

No. The answer was no. He could see it in her eyes. Whoever was in front of them, they weren’t Marinette anymore. Not really.

“You’re pale.”

“Yeah. Lack of sunlight and chemical baths tend to do that.”

He clenched his fists tightly. The ring dug into his skin, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

After all, he wasn’t stupid. He was aware of what had happened to Drake during his tenure as Robin. He knew what he’d been forced to do, and he was sure she was there to finish the job.

He readied himself for a fight.

He’d failed her, yes, but he couldn’t afford to lose another person.

[ghostbsuter]

Can be read as a continuation of this

.・゜-: ✧ :-

It's been a few weeks, really, since the day he met his biological father.

The oversized hoodie drowned him, a perfect haven while he waits near the entrance to arkham asylum.

The whole week rushed by after the event. His mom, wonderful, black belt, kickass mom had fretted over him the whole time, messaging his therapist not long after and getting an appointment.

His dad had been clingy, giving him bear hugs left and right, it felt nice. Jazz hadn't let him out of her sight for one moment, always searching, always studying.

Man, he loved his family.

"Are you going to visit him?" The gruff voice of Batman asks, and danny shrieks, jumping away as he looks at the vigilante with wide eyes.

"Oh Ancients—! Don't scare me like that!" Danny scolds, hand over his chest and breathing hard.

He can feel the amusement wafting off of Batman. Or something.

Huffing, the child leans against the brickstone pillar holding the gate again.

"No," he ends up answering. "I'm not here to visit... him."

Batman listens quietly, simply standing next to him. He doesn't pressure nor demand anything. If danny thinks more of it, he might get a headache.

"My sister is an intern in Arkham, we're gonna have dinner with Harley and Ivy today." A shrug, and the wind lovingly pushes him.

"Good." The man states, he hesitates a moment before he stretches his arm out towards danny, opening his hand and showcasing the items.

First is a lollipop, famous for being handed over to children after being saved by the bat himself. Second is a pin, in the shape of Batman's signature bat, it had a red button on the other side however.

"It's an emergency alert, in case anything like this happens again." Is quickly explained and Danny takes them, if not a bit tense.

He is unused to the trust the man shows him despite how short their time was spent together. Danny wonders if the bat already snooped around.

"Thanks—"

"Danny!"

His head snaps to the gate opening, brightening up as Jazz runs through and hugs him.

"Jazz!" He eagerly hugs back, thank looks up at her.

"You gotta meet Bat—" He trails off when they turn to the empty spot next to the pair, wind rustling leaves just as he finished. "man..."

Damn batman.

Danny huffs and tugs at Jazz's jacket. "Nevermind then, c'mon let's get a nice present before we visit harley."

Simply bringing her up seems to have Jazz excited. "I still can't believe we're having dinner with THE Dr. Harleen Quinzel!!!"

"And her wife."

"aND THE Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley!!!"

Her enthusiasm is rubbing off on him, he grins, hooking up his arm around hers, and they're skipping towards town, laughing like maniacs.

[inactivefandomblog]

Things I noticed when I re watched Birds of prey last night

Hi all, I watched BOP for the second time last night and I wanted to write down some of the things I noticed as I had seen @wordsoflittlewisdom​ , Idea credit goes to them on this one. I’m aware that some of these things are not exactly new discoveries and were blatantly obvious to others, but I have ADHD and a processing delay meaning that I don't always take in all the information the first time I watch a film. For example, I had no idea Renee was gay for ages, even though they tell us she had an ex girlfriend (I think I was too busy fan Girling that Ali Wong was in the film then though to hear that bit). I have to focus more on the overall plot when I watch things the first time, but the second time I was able to scan for little details and take in more things. Without further ado, here’s what I noticed.

“Do you know what a harlequin is? A harlequin's role is to serve. It's nothing without a master. No one gives two shits who we are, beyond that.”

-When Harley is talking about Harlequinns serving  their master, she is not just talking about her relationship with the Joker, but about Canary letting Roman be her master. She is saying that she felt like she was nothing without the Joker. She is also implying that Dinah feels the same about Roman, and that she shouldn't because he doesn’t actually care about her like the Joker didn’t care about her.

-THATS WHY SHE ONLY HAS ONE SHOE IN THE CHASE SCENE!!!!!  SHE USED IT TO PIN DOWN THE ACCELERATOR IN THE TRUCKKKKKK!!! MYSETERY SOLVED!! ...  though.. she didn’t change her shoes to a full set between then and the police chase the next day/ later on the same day. Meaning she didn't go home after that...so did she just like wander around Gotham after committing a huge crime obviously tide to her XD of course she did, she’s Harley Fucking Quinn! Either that or she passed out somewhere from being very very drunk, hopefully her apartment and not just a street or something.

-BONUS:  fanfic idea: DRUNK HARLEY HAS A FUNERAL FOR HER SHOE THAT GOT BLOWN UP IN THE ACE CHEMICALS EXPLSION, WITH BRUCE AND THE BEAVER. after she leaves the crime scene. That just seems like a thing drunk Harley would do, as I imagine she loved those shoes as they were awesome..so were her sequin socks.

-The first time I watched it I didn't realise that the fireworks weren’t actually there - because that was all in Harley's head and the film is from her pov - even though we are showed that when the police arrive there are none and it's just a regular explosion. Not until I was told this was the case and realised we were literally shown this later on.

-She goes from being a Harlequinn to Harley Quinn as she becomes emancipated.

-Roman just lets Zsas grab his arms and restrain him when he’s mad, switch energy much.....also they are defo gay for each other. Zsas was acting like a jealous boyfriend when he gave Dinah even an ounce of attention. He legit told her to come back later when he just started massaging Roman’s shoulders. Roman let's Zsas rub his shoulders and comfort him, Zsas wants to protect Roman...need I go on.

- Cass’ parents are yelling about how they don't want her if you listen to what they are saying, so they’re not just fighting, they’re fighting because they wish they never adopted her. She can hear them saying all this too. This made me feel even more sad for Cass than when I thought her parents were toxic to each other in my first watch through.

- (Trigger warning: mention of domestic abuse and child abuse)

.

.

Cass’ parents didn't want her and seemed to be very hostile, its not mentioned how Cass got her cast...but I realised that it could suggest that her parents broke her arm. Which would go on to suggest that they were abusing her physically as well as emotionally. Hence why she didn’t trust people, and was so hurt when Harley betrayed her. Because when she says that she though Harley was different, she meant that she thought she could trust Harley and that Harley wouldn’t hurt her.

-Margot’s real accent comes through when she tells Canary ‘I haven't told that to anyone’ when telling her she Broke up with Joker, as well as a few other times throughout the film.

-Cassandra is quiet and not talkative in her first scene because her throat was hurting because of the diamond. That's why she coughed to try and clear it . At that point in the film we hadn’t been shown that  part but it was set after it happened so it makes sense when you re watch it.

-Cassandra’s jacket has a little middle finger logo on it, which I thought really suited her character.

- Cass has ‘asshole’ written on her cast, a drawing of a gun the word ‘fuck’, the word ‘magic’  - which is probably a reference at how she does some stuff that is similar to closeup magic and uses the same magicians technique of the art of misdirection - she also has what appears to be two playing cards, one with hearts  and one with diamonds. Which is most probably a reference to Harley Quinn’s whole  hearts and diamonds thing she has going. Didn’t comic book Harley also have a link to those specific playing cards too? or something like that?

EDIT: THEY ARE PLAYING CARDS!! I GOT A BETTER LOOK AT THE CAST IN THE COSTUMES VIDEO.

- TW: mentions of abuse and child abuse and trauma

The whole diamonds are a girls best friend is Harley going somewhere else mentally to cope with the trauma of being abused  - we see her being spanked by a nun when was younger suggesting she was abused then too, and I think it is a part of her comic book story  that she was but I don't know for sure - when it flashes and Guns appear that's reality trying to seep in. She's trying to focus on the diamond and block everything else out

-I spotted what looks like a mini mallet on the wall in her kitchen that could potentially be a meat tenderiser, and if that is the case then that is  a fantabulous little Easter egg type thingy. The handle looks too long to be a pot, it has a diamond pattern on it and it is next to another tool for preparing meat...so now I'm just waiting on Margot Robbie,Cathy Yan or Ella Jay Basco to Reply to my tweet and confirm it.

-Helena speaking Chinese makes me laugh for some reason, I think its her facial expression. 

- Kid  Helena’s crayons when she's drawing the revenge pic are all perfectly spaced and placed like her stuff in her bathroom scene. Further evidence of her perfectionism/ her liking things a specific way.

- The towel in Helena’s hotel room  on the bed (seen in mirror reflection) is in the shape of a little person.

- Canary sheds a tear when Roman harasses the lady on the table, I didn't notice that before because I looked away as the scene made me really uneasy.

- Harley screws the cap on the nail polish before putting it down even though there's someone at the door after them. This made me laugh because she thinks the police is after her but still takes time to do this, which is such a Harley thing. Like when she bent down to pick up the penny when that guy was gonna kill her.

- Roman has a shirt with his face printed on it.They did a good job of using the costumes and sets to show his egomaniacal trait.

- The look of acceptance of Harley's face when she realises that no one cares about, after the last person she thought cared about her (Doc) betrayed her, is heart-breaking. 

-How was Renee not injured from getting launched out the window? Even if she didn't fall all the way to the ground and landed on the top of the entrance bit, she’d still be injured.

-WHERE DOES HUNTRESSS STORE ALLL THOSE ARROWWWSSSSS????? SHE FIRED SO MMAANNNNYYY! I DIDN’T SEE A QUIIIIVVVER OR ANYTHING. I guess she just stores them in sub space along with her hammer¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

-Also I think I figured out what the chain is  for, at first I thought it was for the crossbow to attach to. Then I though not as she leaves the crossbow on the floor by itself in the funhouse fight scene, but then I think I saw it attached to it..so I think she can just disconnect it when need be. Plus it just looks cool.

-Alllssoo, she toooottallly checked out Dinah! HELENA IS DEFO GAYYYY! she has big useless lesbian vibes. They really knew who their target audience was when they made Helena look so stunning and badass. The producers really said ‘hello LGBTQ+ community’ (hopefully y’all know that tiktok audio or that wont make much sense) Also, if you don't believe me, I have a gif of her doing it on my blog. So there’s no denying it.

-Why were the lights on in the funhouse if it was  abandoned?? Maybe its just more Harley vision? but the carousel was rotating too...

Anyway that's everything I noticed, thanks for reading if you made it this far, and even if you didn’t...you wont see this then but still. Thank y’all .

[vln-vibes]

Marie Margaret Quinzel AU

Another “What if Marinette was the daughter of ...” AU ft. Dr. Harleen Quinzel aka Harley Quinn.

So Harleen had a one night stand, it wasn’t exactly her thing but it happened and now she was expecting a little bundle of joy.

Does she go look for the father?

No because She’s a Smart Independent Woman who got her Doctorate and doesn’t need a man.

Thus her little sunshine Marie Margaret Quinzel ( named after Mary Ainsworth, a pioneer in childhood attachments , and Margaret Floy Washburn, first woman to get her Ph.D in Psychology) was born.

Harleen made sure to spend time with her daughter and ensure she knew she was safe and protected, she’d seen enough patients with abandonment issues on the job.

She wanted the best for her little sunshine and when the offer came to work for Arkham Asylum with the big raise in her salary and hours she could get off work she agreed.

Sometimes she regrets ever making the decision .

Marie grows up learning to analyze people just like her mama. Harleen knew that she had always been an abnormal child, apathetic and borderline obsessed with learning the small things about people in some ways, it was the reason she was interested in psychology in the first place, but she knew it would prove useful for her daughter in the future.

Then she met him .

The thing that destroyed her mama and one of the few people Marie loathed.

Mr.J

Harleen hadn’t told people about Marie, she knew the people she worked with (both patients and co workers) weren’t exactly the most reliable or stable. She hasn’t even mentioned a thing to him.

She had felt it coming, her falling for Joker and tried stopping herself butbwas infatuated.

She wanted to learn everything about him.

But that made him dangerous.

Harleen wasn’t sure what to do but she decided it would be best to send her baby away with her cousin in Paris, Tom Dupain, who she’d attended the wedding of a few months after Marie was born.

Harleen hadn’t realized it but it was probably the best thing she could have done for her daughter.

Harley did her best to keep contact with her daughter but with all the insanity and her need to please her Puddin’, she suppressed her memories of Dr. Harleen Quinzel and fully immersed herself into the role of his Harlequin doll to the point she forgot she ever had a daughter in the first place.

It wasn’t until Mari sent Her a birthday present that she triggered her memories and completely broke down.

How could she forget her own daughter?

Harley , with the support and love of Ivy and Selena, begins to turn a new leaf. She stops escaping Arkham, she stops working with other villains, she stops working for Joker. It brings concern to the Arkham workers, who end up informing the Big Bad Bat, but there are other inmates, those with children, to have knowing smiles as they look at the work Harley puts in to becoming a better person.

Batman suspects something of her or that’s its a trap by Joker until she confesses that she’s not changing for himself but because she’s trying to be a better person for someone special in she wants back in her life .

Marie misses her mother dearly; she even started doing her hair like her mom’s for this reason. She began to question her aunt and uncle, the kind Dupain-Chengs who treated her like their own daughter and as an equal to Bridgette (She’s even registered as Dupain-Cheng in the school system because of the system’s fault but neither she nor her uncle and aunt found it necessary to go through all the work to change it since it had been years by the time they realize), what happened to her mama once she turned ten. They would change the topic whenever she did but eventually a year later they told her of the things her mama had done; the person she was forced to become by the hands of a monster.

Marie never blamed her mama, she was well aware of her mama’s struggles as a child.

She blamed Joker and wanted nothing more than to see him locked up in the pits of Tartarus.

When Marie turned twelve she was surprised when she came back from school; In the living room was Her Mama along with two women she recognized as Poison Ivy and Catwoman. Harley expected yelling and screaming from her little sunshine, she deserved it after abandoning her, but was reduced to tears as the girl before her just gave her a bone crushing hug.

Since then Harley either visits Marie or Marie visits her in Gotham  (She and Tom were both in agreement that they prefer Paris visits over Gotham but Marie deserved to know her roots and would be protected by Rogues but Harley questioned if it would be enough against Joker)

At fourteen Marie Margaret Quinzel became Ladybug, protector of Paris. She definitely did not tell her parents, not her two moms or her psudo-parents, because she didn’t want to stress them further. She also starts her first year of high school by American standards or 3ème in France, and is just overwhelmed by the different personalities and issues these kids have;

Looks at Chloe: “You’ve got mommy and abandonment issues as well as a low-self esteem” Suffice to say Chloe doesn’t bother Marie anymore or tries to make herself small around her. After talking one afternoon she gets Chloe to open up and thus her road to recovery is a go.

Its worse when she meets Adrien and immediately wants to remove him from his home and just wants to wrap him in a blanket burrito. She recognizes the signs of isolation, his child-like view of the world with his naive sense of what friends and school should be like, his abandonment issues as well as inferiority complex.

She basically becomes the class therapist and they love her for it. Marie still wants to be a designer though.

 At fifteen Marie Margaret Quinzel was visiting her mother in Gotham, with Kaalki and Tikki at her side of course, and was taking inspiration on the Gotham rooftops when she met a boy.

Definitely older than her but she could feel the waves of anger rolling off of him, she could feel the corrupted magic damaging and controlling his soul.

That was the night she met Jason Peter Todd.

The two start talking and Marinette hears his story, he wasn’t gone enough to attempting to kill children, and when he was done all she said was  “You look like you need a hug”

She decides that he needs help, unless they want a blood thirsty criminal on the lose not that Gotham lacks any, and takes him home.

The Sirens did not expect to see Robin come in through the window along with Marie. Everyone knew Joker killed Boy Wonder II

They definitely did not expect him to try and kill Harley because of the Madness, his mind wanting revenge on the Joker. He took out a gun and aimed straight to Harley’s heart, part of him wanted it to be a swift death, but was snapped out of it when Marie jumped in front of her mama and started talking him out of it.

Jason would not kill a child.

Marie is offended since he’s only like two-three years older but her short height and pigtail do not help.

Thus begins Jason Todd’s road to recovery from Pit Madness with the help of the Sirens and Marie, who also learns how to remove any residue magic with the help of Tikki.

Bonus:

When Marie meets Lila: “Oh you’re just a pathological liar with a superiority complex and an Overall Bitch”

“Oh shit the class therapist said that”

Bless the MariBat Discord for the help!

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Dangerous Love (Pt. 08 of 13)

Pairing: Bruce Wayne (Batman) X Harley Quinn's sister!Reader

Word count: 2.9K

Summary: You're Harley Quinn's sister, Havoc, one of the many villain's of Gotham. But you've been caught, and has been tortured constantly for an year in Belle Reve. But when your think your life can't be anything else than the nightmare you find yourself into, Bruce Wayne, the Batman, takes you in for a project. He has a program to rehabilitate villains, and you're his lab rat. But soon enough confusing feelings start getting in the way. You know falling for Bruce is stupid. But can you keep your heart under control?

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{Justice League - DC Masterlist}

×

Home isn't Always a Place

You're pushed forward, a gun on your back. You step down the ramp, the sunlight blinding you for a while. The headquarters were built here, in some sort of field. There as soldiers everywhere, and they're immediately aware of you. Of course they are, you're a threat. With a gun on your hand, seven bullets means seven men on the ground, crying in pain. You hardly miss.

“Sister!” A yell gets your attention, and you turn to its source. Harley comes running, throwing her arms around you. “So good to see you. Where have you been?”

In paradise. “Same place as I've been for the last year. Isn't it obvious?” Shrugging your shoulders casually, you try not to look to misplaced. Wait. Why would you look misplaced here?

“Well, now we get to have fun and some family bonding.” As she speaks, a soldier walking by gets her attention. “Hey, you. Can you help me with something?” She says in a flirting tone and walks away.

“Now it's a party.” A rough voice says, and you soon recognize the owner.

“Killer.” You greet him with a smile and a quick hug. “Nice to see you'll be here to have my back. Who else is here?”

“Deadshot is arguing with a soldier. Diablo is seated in some corner whining.” He smiles, gesturing at his left. “Long time no see. How's life?”

“Life's fine. As fine as it could be.” You start walking over where Deadshot is, watching as the soldier rolls his eyes. Floyd is gesticulating a lot, which means he's pissed.

“I won't have it like it was the last time. Now go, be a good puppy and tell this to your boss.” He says, turning his back at the man. “Havoc. Hi.” He says, exchanging a glance with Killercroc. “Ready for another stupid mission?”

“It's not like we have a choice, right? I–”

“Listen up, assholes! Your dirty things are in these boxes. So change and let's get the hell out of here. You have five minutes.” A man shouts, and everyone rolls their eyes.

You make your way to your things, and as you expected, your box is filled with your old clothes. All in shades of lilac, purple and pink. As usual, the soldiers just stand around you, not caring too much, as you change. You never liked that. Harley doesn't seem to care, and many eyes lay on her. But you do care. And you care a lot more now.

“Guys. A little help?”

Floyd and Killer grab some of the dark plastic bags that lie on the the floor, as you take a dark purple sleeveless jumpsuit. You move to stand near a wall, and the guys turn their backs at you, holding the bags high so you're shielded from anyone's eyes. They did the same on the first time, and you're very thankful for that.

“Thanks, guys. I'm done.” You tell them, fixing the jumpsuit on your body. The hard material makes you feel strong, like Havoc again.

“You're welcome.” Killer says.

“To the trucks! Now!” A man barks and you have no choice but to do as he says.

All of you go in the back of one of the trucks, together. Harley seems to be the only one excited about it, since she's trying to flirt with a soldier named Tom. You wonder what Joker would think about that. Oh. He's stuck on a bed for the rest of his life. He won't be saying anything, you bet.

As you move through the town, you can't help but think about what you did before leaving the house. The kiss. You can't believe you actually kissed him. What in hell were you thinking? You're very brave to do such a crazy thing like that. And you should've at least stayed to see his expression. To see if he was mad or not. But even if he didn't like it, you trust him enough to know he won't break his promise. He still keep helping you after you beat him up twice, so it's not a peck in the lips that will make him change his mind.

Being sure of this is a weird feeling. Your head is so much clearer now, you're not as scared as you were. And you're liking who you're becoming. This mission is just a inconvenience. It'll be over and you'll head back to the house, back to the way of getting a real life. A good life, a life you'll actually enjoy having.

You stop suddenly, and you're ordered out of the truck. “There's a small group here. Eyes open. They might have put mines here so... Don't blow up.”

You get two guns, one in your hand as you walk the perimeter. Harley stays close to Tom, but it doesn't bother you. You walk near Killercroc and Floyd, your head too far from this place.

“Hey.” Floyd elbows you. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I'm just... Thinking.” Shrugging your shoulders, you need to focus on being casual. “How's you daughter?”

“She's great. Best student of her class and she's in a hella good school. The best of Gotham.” He looks at the sides, making sure nobody is too close. Killercroc is a few steps ahead and he doesn't really care about these stuff anyways. “You will never guess who put her there. And also guaranteed her a good University, any one she chooses.”

“That's freaking amazing, Floyd. Who did all that?” It couldn't be Amanda. She's not that good.

“Batman.” The mention of Bruce makes you blush, your heart aching from his absence. You look down, running a hand through your hair.

“Batman? In like the man you hate with all your strength?”

“How can I hate someone who does that for my kid? No, no. I respect him. Even admire him now, doing this after I tried to kill him half a dozen times.”

“Floyd, he's...” You need to let out out your chest, and having someone to talk about it would be nice. And you know you can trust Floyd, even more now that his hate for Bruce is gone. So the words roll out your tongue in a whisper as you both stop walking. “...Batman is the one helping me... Rehabilitating me.”

“Oh. So the rumors are true. I knew they took you somewhere else, just didn't know where.”

“You two. Walk.” Someone says and you start moving again.

“Yes, he... I'm going well. I...” Floyd looks down at you, raising one eyebrow. “He said it was mostly just me, but he did help. He treated me with kindness, believed me. I don't know how to explain but I'm different.”

“I did notice something was off with you. But I'd never guess.”

“Really? I was trying to keep it cool.” As you speak, three man come from the corner, immediately shooting at you. You duck behind a car, peaking just enough to lay eyes on them and aim. But they're easily put down without you having to shoot.

“All clear!” Harley says, smiling.

“So...” You continue when you start walking downtown again. “I didn't want to come, but he promised me it would be the last time.”

“Uhm... He's making promises?”

“Yes.” You don't get his tone. “He's very kind to me. Unlike anyone else... He even threw me a birthday party.”

“Happy birthday by the way, and sorry it's a little late.” You turn the corner, carefully at first. “How kind?”

“Kind.” What else can you say? That his touch is so soft, so gentle that you couldn't help but fall in love with him? “He... Cares. I think.”

“You fell for him.” Floyd bursts out, and it's not even a question. It's an affirmative. How did he get there so fast?

But you're fast to dissimulate. “What? No.”

“It's called Stockholm Syndrome.”

“It's not like that!” You exclaim. “You know I've been kidnapped before. Twice by the Joker, who kept me hostage for five months... I did spent three of them just to play tricks on his mind and get some of his money but you get what I mean. Batman didn't held me hostage. He spoke to me, helped me get clean of the drugs they used to give me at Belle Reve, he... He won't let the door locked anymore. He wants me to be able to live in society again.”

“I was teasing you. But since you went into great lengths to defend your relationship with him... You did fell for him.”

“Shut up, Floyd.” You mutter, too much on your head. Increasing your pace, you reach Killer, walking beside him.

Your feelings are pretty clear, as much as you don't want to admit it. And hear it like that just makes it even worse. The kiss... All you think is about that kiss you shouldn't have given.

You're thankful when the action starts, because you have something else to focus on. It doesn't resumes in shooting, you eventually get into hand to hand combat. And you can deal with it pretty well. Of course, it's easier because the guys have your back. You guess they somehow noticed you have no pleasure on doing this anymore. Diablo, as usual, doesn't participate much.

When you stop, hours later, you feel your body complaining a little, but you know it'll get worse. But you also know you can deal with that. And you will, because this time you have somewhere nice to return to.

The commotion goes on for a couple of days. It gets messy, and it only gets worse when the granades start falling from the skies. You're all bruised up again, but not as bad as you were in the hell hole. How is it possible that you're in the middle of a war and you're not as much hurt as you were inside a prison?

As you approach the terrorists base, things get worse, and even the soldiers seem to get anxious. So that means they're extra evil to you. One of them denied you a bottle of water, what made Killercroc almost get his head blown out for arguing with the man. That reminds you that you don't have an explosive this time, but the soldiers told you they will put a bullet through your head if you try anything. But they can rest their minds because the only thing you want is to end this soon.

A week later, the soldiers decide to settle for the night, and push you into a half destroyed house. Harley uses all the hot water, so you have to endure the cold. But it feels good to clean up, and you can take a look at your wounds. A few cuts and purple bruises, nothing you can't deal with. The only bad part of the times you stop to rest a little before start moving again, is that your mind involuntary floats back to Bruce. You can't help it, everything comes back. When he left his gala to dance with you, the dreams, the birthday surprise, the kiss... Why can't you take this man out of your head?

You're alone in a room where half of the wall is down. The others are downstairs, but you want to be alone. You can see the stars from here, and you wonder if Bruce is staring at them too. “Hey, freak.” A soldier comes in, throwing a small radio at you, that looks like a very rustic cellphone. “Someone wants to speak to you. You have five minutes.”

Watching as he leaves, you lie back on the floor, approaching the radio from your ear and mouth. You know who it is, and your stomach goes crazy, with a thousand butterflies flying around.

“Hi.” He answers. “How are you?”

His voice is so familiar, like home. “I'm surviving. Enduring. Just want this to be over soon.”

“It will. And you'll be back here.”

“I hope so... We're near their base now. So only a couple of days more and we'll reach it. Take them down.” You close your eyes, hoping that his voice will be enough to make you dream of him tonight. You would give anything to have him here... Or to be back home. You mean, back at his house. “How's everything there?" Stupid question, he's fine, everything is fine.

“It's weird not to have you here.”

A smile comes to your lips. “Is it?” You whisper, taking a deep breath. You're scared you'll lose control, and the words will roll out your tongue. “Our time is almost over but... Thank you, I... It's good to speak to you.”

“Just remember I'm waiting for you.” You hear his heavy breath, as if he's suffering too, tired, exhausted.

Then you hear a little static, and you know he's gone... There's a weight on your chest and you can't help but let a single tear roll down your cheek. You keep the radio near your face, as if you could hold Bruce with a little longer. “I miss you so much.” You say, barely recognizing your weak voice.

“I miss you too.” The sudden answer scares you, your eyes widened.

“I- I thought you hanged up.”

“No, I'm still here. And I miss you very much, sweetheart.”

The pet name makes you lose it, and now you're crying. “Bruce, I–”

“Time's up, Havoc.” The soldier comes back, hand reached out. “Say goodbye to your protector.”

“I gotta go. I... I miss you.” You burst out before another sentence, far more dangerous, leaves your lips. You give the man the radio back, curling up on the floor, bracing yourself.

From tomorrow, you'll fight harder. You need to go back.

• • •

“Their base–” The soldier who announces is shot in the throat, right beside you. You're duck behind the barricades, waiting for the big guns to arrive. You cannot approach with the risk of being blown up, and they're not allowed to spend you just yet.

“That's it. Shoot to kill, that's an order.” The commandant yells, and the bodies start dropping faster. But not from your gun. You keep aiming for their knees, but another bullet always finds the man you leave collapsed on the floor. “Are you deaf, slut?” He barks at you, leaving his post and pulling you up by the shoulders. “Don't you think you can trick me just because the Bat took you into his wings. Do what you do best and kill those terrorists.”

“I don't kill, sarg.” You tell him, making your way back to your post. But the grabs your arm violently, squeezing right on a wound you got. You groan, trying to pull away.

“You don't kill? Nice try. You will do as I say!” He yells right to your face, and you can feel his disgusting breath. But you won't back down, and you won't take a life just because he told you to.

“I don't kill.” You repeat, standing as tall as you can, head up raised up to look the man in the eye.

His gun makes sudden contact with your face, in the apple on the right cheek. Your head jerks to the side, and you're knocked down, a sharp pain spreading through the skull.

“Hey! Leave her alone!” Killercroc comes running, and you see through the corner of your eyes as he engages in a fight with the man.

You're done here. Crawling away from the fight, you hide yourself behind a building, seated on the floor and resting your back against the wall. They seem to be dealing with that very well, so they don't need you. You're tired of fighting, tired of being in pain.

“Havoc?” Floyd calls, startling you a little. “Are you ok? Your cheek is–”

I'm (Y/N). “Yes, I'm ok. But I'm not going back there.”

“You'll have to tell them you're feeling unwell or else–”

“I don't care, ok? I just need to go back home. I'm sick and tired of this shit.” You burst out.

“Home?” He questions, not seeming too excited to head back to the battlefield.

“Yeah, just... I'm confused, I'm hurt. I'm not thinking straight.”

“I have to head back. Sorry.”

Nodding, you close your eyes, taking in the explosions and shooting. The only thing you want is peace now, silence... Bruce's arms. A heavy, cold rain starts falling, and you're soaking wet in a matter of seconds. Your head spins around, and you lie down, eyes closed tight.

Suddenly, you're pulled into a heavy sleep.

• • •

“Lucky bitch. We should be taking her back to where she belongs.” A rough voice wakes you up, and you sit up, eyes opening slowly. You're in a truck, in the back, on the metal floor. Your hands are tied by huge metal handcuffs, that cover both hands, reaching the middle of your forearm. It's heavy.

“Let's teach her a lesson. Just like old times.” A man say, and you recognize two out of six, both were your guards in Belle Reve.

“Don't leave too many bruises. She'll be with Batman in ten minutes, he'll notice.”

Ten minutes... You're going back. This truck in taking you back. Lowering your head, you smile, breathing deeply.

“She was with the Task Force. He'll think she got them there.”

“Fine then.” You're pulled back, a dark, heavy fabric covering your head. “This is just to remind you of who you are, Havoc.”

“And to give you a nice memory of home.”

The beating starts, and your body easily collapses to the floor again. But you're lifted up, again and again. You should fight. You should do something, but you can't. You're not the superpowerful girl you thought you were. You break too, and you get hurt. And you are hurt, with countless cuts and wounds through your body. When you were high on whatever they gave you, you could keep moving. Now you can't. Being vulnerable, weak, feels awful, but there's just no strength in you. You just need to make it through the last ten minutes that separate you from home.

Home.

When exactly did the house became that?

Or is it Bruce? Is he the one becoming your home? Is it even possible? You hope it is.

×

@redwolf-7 @glitterypinkkitty @mybabyboytony @chipster-21 @agustdpeach @yaakimoon2 @chloe-skywalker

[ohallthecrushes]

Wherever you go I’ll find you //Joker x Reader // part 2

A/N: This was in my drafts for a week I think. I haven’t posted it sooner, cause I couldn’t find a good way to end this part and again I ended it with cliffhanger. Damn, I’m sorry. xD Part one is HERE for those interested in this story. Enjoy. :)

@call-me-harley-quinn​

Summary: Arthur is so ingrained in his Joker persona, he forgets that his S/O has only seen Arthur. Not knowing him anymore, she runs. When Joker realizes this, he is devastated and does everything he can to find her. After days of searching, he finds her and takes her back. She is scared out of her mind, but it ends up being a beautiful reconciliation.

Contains: mention of blood, physical fight

Word count: 1420

You turned your head to look directly at it, and you couldn’t tell what exactly were you looking at.

- Arthur, what... What the hell is this?

He looked the same way as you and chuckled.

- That’s Randall - he said as if it was the most obvious thing.

When he saw your confusion, he pointed to his head, his index finger tapping his temple.

- I had to beat out of his stupid head the idea of me being his boy.

His chuckles turned into a short laughter, a kind of laugh you hadn’t heard from him before. A madman laugh.

You shook your head, still confused.

- Is this a joke? That’s a red paint on the wall, isn’t it?

He nodded his head at your first question and shook at the second.

- So this is a joke and it’s not a red paint? - you asked confused and disturbed, glancing back at the wall. The splash was huge and it looked like someone had killed somebody here. What the hell was that?

- Hey, Kitten... - he started, placing a hand on your cheek and turning your head away from the wall - There’s a lot for you to catch on, but can we leave it for another time? I really missed you and-

- No - you objected shaking your head and standing up, you felt like you were starting to panic, there was something very wrong, you could feel it in your bones - Explain that to me, please. What is this? - you pointed at the red splash, your voice raised and your hand shaking - How’s that Randall? And what happened at Murray’s that you don’t want me to see? What exactly are you right now? What’s this new persona? How were you reborn? I haven’t been here for a week and now I’m home everything seems to be different. You are different. And why didn’t you answer my calls? You didn’t call me for three days! Three fucking days!

He was looking at your outburst with his hands trying to catch yours to comfort you, but you shook them off, causing him to furrowed his brows in bafflement. He didn’t realize that you hadn’t talked for three days, he really didn’t. Everything had been melting into one moment, he hadn’t been aware of the time passing by.

He watched you with a concerning look on his face. As Arthur, he would start to panic as well, seeing you being so upset with him, it would make him want to comfort you and apologize to you as soon as possible. He wouldn’t let you just be upset on your own. He would have to take care of your emotions first, putting his own aside.

But as Joker, he was... irritated. Still worried about your well being, but he wasn’t in any rush to apologize to you or comfort you. He had made his one attempt and you’d rejected his hands, so he wouldn’t try again. Not until you would be calmer.

- What this is all about, Arthur?

Arthur... I’m not him.

- Joker, babe - he corrected you with a soft but firm voice - I’m Joker now... - his words sounded like they were supposed to explain you most of the things and he seemed to be proud of his new name. He thought that his new name was the best way to start with.

After all, he couldn’t wait until he introduced himself to you.

You blinked at him with a clear confusion visible on your face. His words didn’t ring a single bell in your head.

- I’ve worked hard on my new image and I think I’m pretty good looking now, don’tcha think? - he raised his arms to the sides and smiled - People of Gotham’s already loved my image.

- What people? - you asked being more and more concern about your boyfriend, but also seriously angry. Not only he looked different, he acted different. You did not recognize your Arthur anymore.

- Definitely not Randall - he joked as he laughed with this mad laughter that he had done before and you took a step back, feeling more and more scared.

You glanced at the splash of blood on the wall and the ugly truth came to your mind.

- Y-you killed him? - you asked doubting your own judgment - you really killed him?

He looked at you lowering his head slightly, a dark grin appeared slowly on his face.

- Mmhhhmm - he nodded - he was a bad boy, he knew that that gun he gave me would put me into trouble. He came here to make sure that I’d be the only one to blame. Can you imagine that?

You slowly took another step back and he noticed that you were trying to distance yourself from him. He didn’t get why though. Were you scared because of the blood? Because of him?

- No, no, no... this... - you looked at him with tears in your eyes - This isn’t you...

- Y/N, c’mon, just let me explain... - he moved in your direction but you stepped aside, behind the table. He took a few steps and you did the same, walking around the table, facing each other, mirroring each other’s steps like some sort of dance.

But the piece of furniture wasn’t the only thing that created the distance between you now.

- Y/N... - he started again, warning you with his tone to stop and stay in place, but you didn’t want to and weren’t going to.

As you both made a full circle around the table and you had a clear way to the door, you commanded your legs to run over them as fast as you can.

- The door is locked, babe - you heard his slightly irritated voice behind you and his footsteps as he rushed to you.

You were grappling with the lock with shaking hands while he moved over you and you felt his hands on your waist grabbing you and pulling you away.

- No, let me go! - you yelled as you jerked from him, trying to free yourself. But he only tightened his grips and let out a low growl, dragging you further into the apartment.

He scared you by this even more, you’d never expected from him to use force on you. He’d never done this before. He’d been nothing but gentle and considerate with you ever since you’d met. But this... This was physical fighting, this was harmful and scary, and at this moment you realized you were dealing with a dangerous man.

- Y/N, please, just... try to- - he started as he tried to think of a way to calm you down with words, but he doubted you would even listen to him.

- Let go of me! - You cried out as your legs were up in the air and you started kicking in utter panic. Your feet mostly hit nothing as you weren’t even aware of what you were aiming at, just trying so desperately to free yourself. But one particular kick struck the spot between his legs and he let go of you, instantly placing his hands onto his aching balls, curling up into a ball.

You fell on the floor, landing on you knees. You felt bad for hurting him like that, but you couldn’t know if he wouldn’t hurt you if you didn’t try to escape from him. He killed Randall after all, there was a big fucking bloody spot on the wall showing what your boyfriend was capable of. You weren’t going to stay and see what else he could do.

As the tears started streaming down your face, you ran to the door like hell, out on the corridor, tripping over your feet and beating your personal best time at running over a short distance. You ran down the stairs and you almost fell a few times, trying to run faster than you physically could. You left the building and Joker behind but you didn’t stop there as you continued to run down the street, away and away. Far away from him. Whoever he was now. You didn’t know. He wasn’t your boyfriend anymore. He wasn’t Arthur. He wasn’t whom you had seen and kissed a week ago. He wasn’t the person you remembered and loved. He was... As he had told you so:

Joker.

A murderer.

[lfthinkerwrites]

32 - Empty

Penelope awoke in a bright, white room, lying on a stiff bed. Her vision was blurry and her body felt numb, save for a dull pain in her right shoulder and upper arm. 

“Poppy?”

Penelope slowly turned her head. As her vision began to regain focus, she saw an older woman sitting rather bedside, her familiar brown eyes wide and glistening with tears. She knew this woman. “Mom?” she weakly called out.

Her mother instantly reached out to grasp her left hand. “Poppy!” she choked, tears spilling out of her eyes. It was all Penelope could do not to cry with her. 

“How long have I been here?” Penelope asked.

“Three days,” her mother said, wiping away her tears with her free hand. “Your friend Joan Leland called me and I was on the first flight out.” She reached down to gently cup her face. “To moró mou.”

Three days? The last thing Penelope remembered was the sensation of someone carrying her from Sharp’s office. Then in a flash, all of the memories came back, Harley Quinn, the bomb, Zsasz, her formula, the Joker, the riot, the TITAN- “What’s happened at the asylum?” Penelope asked. “The Joker-”

“Don’t worry about that now, darling,” her mother gently cut her off, kissing her on the forehead. “That evil monster is locked up, he’ll never hurt you again. You need to focus on getting better.”

Penelope however, was never a woman to just let things go. Joan and Aaron visited her the next day, giving her mother a much-needed break. “What happened at Arkham?” she asked them. 

“Batman got the riot under control,” Aaron said. “Joker used that formula on his men, but Batman managed to beat them all. He kicked Joker’s ass bad.”

Penelope ran her tongue over her lip. There was something else she needed to know. “How many people died?” 

Joan and Aaron exchanged a long look with each other and her heart sunk. “Penelope,” Joan said carefully. “Don’t do this to yourself now-”

“I need to know Joan,” Penelope interrupted. “How many people died?” How many people did her experiment kill?

Joan said nothing, looking at her feet. Aaron was the one to break the silence. “100,” he said in a heavy voice. “Most of the guards and about a third of the orderlies.”

For a long moment, Penelope forgot how to breathe. 100 people, people she’d worked with, people she’d never had time for once she’d started her work on TITAN, all of them dead. Because of TITAN. Because of her. In an instant, she felt shame, anger, revulsion, horror, guilt...and then nothing. “I see,” she said finally. “I see.” She lay back on her bed, oblivious to the worried look that Joan and Aaron exchanged. She shut her eyes, and she felt nothing.

Weeks passed, though Penelope couldn’t tell. It was as if she lived in a fog, barely aware of the world around her. Her mother stayed with her, bringing her back to her apartment and looking after her. There was an inquiry at Arkham, of course. In exchange for quietly resigning her position and signing a nondisclosure agreement, there would be no professional sanctions against her. She could keep her license and do as she liked with it. For the rest of her life though, Penelope would have no memory of what exactly was said in the hearing. 

A week after the hearing, Penelope had finished clearing out her office, removing any traces of herself in the room. Just two years earlier, she’d been promoted to Head of Research, the youngest in Arkham’s history. She’d been well on her way to a glittering career, she’d begun working on a project that would revolutionize mental health care...and now as she looked through the empty space, she had nothing. Everything she had worked for for the last decade was gone, along with the lives of 100 people. And she felt nothing. Perhaps Joker had succeeded in killing her, and this was her Hell. 

She saw Kellerman, Cassidy, and Liew in the halls as she went to greet her replacement. Liew and Cassidy made no eye contact with her, while Kellerman glared. “How do you live yourself?” she heard him hiss as she walked by. She had no answer for him. She had no idea why she was alive when everything she’d ever wanted was gone, and 100 people were dead. When she shut her eyes at night, she saw bodies lying on the floor covered in white sheets, and herself standing over them, her hands and arms covered in blood, swimming in blood, and she felt nothing. 

Her meeting with her replacement was mercifully brief. “I’ve finished clearing out my office,” she said in a clear voice. “I’ve also turned over all my files for your use. Was there anything else you needed from me?”

“That should be quite sufficient,” Professor Strange said in a deep voice. He peered at her through his glasses, his dark eyes betraying no emotion. “Thank you for your service, Dr. Young. I wish you good luck on your future endeavors.”

Penelope merely nodded, turned on her heel, and walked away, away from Arkham, away from her ambitions, her goals, her sin. Why had she done it? Why hadn’t someone stopped her? Why hadn’t she seen how Joker was manipulating her? Why had she gone so far? Why was she still alive? She had no answers, and she felt nothing, nothing but an empty hole where she had once been.

Hugo Strange watched her leave with a smirk. At first, he’d thought her survival was a complication he didn’t need. He had a contingency plan waiting for her, but after seeing the empty shell Dr. Young was? What need was there to kill her? She was already dead. He shut his door and turned on his television.

“Breaking news from GCNN: Edward Nigma, the criminal mastermind also known as the Riddler, has awoken from his year-long coma. Sources from Gotham’s Mercy Hospital have confirmed that...” 

Strange sat at his desk and watched the newscast. “Interesting,” he murmured. Penelope Young was already forgotten.

[knit-wear-it]

Abnormal Psychology II

Joan Leland’s Two Greatest Disappointments

PhD student!Crane, Undergrad!Harley, Narrator!Joan Leland / Writing exercise to help me work through backstories. Which includes rewriting the first part of this. Because it was terrible.

Read Abnormal Psychology I Here

**Reminder: Harley killed her college boyfriend.

Abnormal Psychology II

2. Joan Leland's Two Greatest Failures

Eight years before Harley meets the Joker.

Joan Leland had been teaching Psychology at Gotham University for over twenty-five years, the tenured head of the department for nearly ten. During those years, she’d seen many precocious PhD candidates, but few of them stood out like Jonathan Crane.

She first met Jonathan when he was twenty-two years old, freshly graduated from a southern university known for its football team rather than its academics. With a bachelor’s in clinical psychology, and a minor in chemistry, his grades had been excellent, and his tutors called him ‘brilliant’ in their referrals. He was an obvious choice for an interview. 

The young man Joan met had been caustic, bordering on rude, and she immediately suspected he was either on the spectrum or suffering some other mental health ailment. That wasn’t a mark against him - so many students of psychology were drawn to the field because of their own struggles. But Crane had a unique interest - obsession if the intensity in his pale eyes was any indication - in fear that hinted at PTSD more than intellectual curiosity. Still, despite Joan’s reservations, Crane was invited to join that year’s group of post-graduate students.

He hadn’t fit in, making numerous enemies amongst his cohort, fellow twenty-somethings who submitted complaints about his rudeness and inflexibility. Then there were Crane’s complaints - of which there had been many - accusing his peers of being lazy and holding him back. In the end, Crane spent the collaborative early years of his PhD working alone. 

It was in Crane’s third year that Joan became well acquainted with him. As head of the department, she had the final say in allocating budgets to research projects. Predictably, Jonathan believed his doctorate thesis to be of paramount importance above his fellow graduate students, and he spent an increasing amount of time lobbying Joan for more money, and issuing empty threats about going to the dean if she didn’t agree. 

“Twenty-thousand dollars?” Joan asked warily, raising her eyebrows at Crane over the top of the proposal he’d just handed her. He was a skinny, pale young man at twenty-five, with an untidy flop of black hair and striking pale blue eyes. His clothes were always neat and tidy, his preference for gray slacks, black oxfords, and ties beneath wool vests separating him from his peers, who tended towards more childish versions of professional dressing. He might have been handsome if it weren’t for the way he carried himself - arrogant, impatient, full of disdain.  

Joan felt sorry for him. 

“I require a larger pool of test subjects,” Crane explained stiffly, his top lip curling. “The volunteers aren’t good enough.”

“Why aren’t they enough?” Joan frowned as she removed her spectacles. “Your peers have no problem with the volunteers.”

Crane closed his eyes and inhaled sharply like he was rallying his patience, or maybe he found being asked to explain himself deeply offensive. 

“I require a certain kind of subject,” he forced a bitter smile that made Joan’s eyes widen. “I need to vet them myself. It’s essential to my research.”

“I understand, Jonathan,” Joan offered him a sympathetic smile and set his proposal aside. “I’m afraid twenty-thousand is out of the question. I may be able to free up five for you.”

“Ten,” Crane insisted sourly. “Dr Leland, I’m sure you’re aware that it would be generous to call the department’s psychopharmacology resources lacking.”

“I’m sorry, Jonathan, this isn’t a negotiation,” Joan sighed as she got to her feet, adjusting her pastel suit jacket. “You’ll have to make do with five-thousand. Now, please excuse me, I have a meeting.” 

She gestured to the door when an idea occurred to her - perhaps a creative solution. Crane isolated himself from his peers, and he never spoke about friends or family. He was missing empathy in his life, with no one to care for, and no one to show him compassion in return.

“Actually,” Joan’s smile brightened. “Have you thought about signing up for the free therapy program the student union set up?”

Crane’s pale eyes widened incredulously. 

“Dr Leland… are you suggesting I need therapy?” he demanded indignantly.

“Well, no,” Joan admitted, though it was abundantly clear Crane needed to talk to someone about his past. “You are a licensed therapist, Jonathan. I’m suggesting you volunteer your time to help these students. It would be good for you to practice outside of your research.”

Crane squinted at her owlishly for a moment, then quite abruptly, he snorted out a laugh.

“I don’t think so,” he said smugly. “Children with eating disorders don’t interest me.”

“Most of them are there for depression or anxiety, or trauma they need to work through,” Joan pointed out, feeling a swell of pity for him. “Psychology isn’t just research and test subjects. We’re here to help people too.”

“Mm,” he sneered, disagreeing but apparently not feeling the need to make his case. He wasn’t holding himself back because he held an unpopular opinion - Joan had heard plenty of complaints about his outright disdain for patient welfare. But this time it seemed he didn’t feel it was an argument worth having. An argument that was beneath him as he found so many things to be. 

“How are you finding the lectures?” Joan asked hesitantly, shouldering her bag as she followed him out of her office. 

“Most of them are morons,” he shot her a withering look that could have stripped paint off the wall. “I’ll also be lobbying the dean to remove the teaching requirement for students in their fourth year,” he informed Joan crisply. “Some of us have more important work to be doing.”

Then he turned on his heel and stomped down the hallway without a word of farewell. 

Joan sighed, feeling another surge of pity for Jonathan Crane as she locked her office door and headed in the opposite direction. 

Gotham University’s campus was covered in snow, a treat for students returning from their Christmas breaks. Joan smiled at colleagues and a few students she knew or recognized as she walked toward the student union building, struggling with the question of how she might help Jonathan Crane.

The student union was a modern building painted yellow and red, and it hadn’t aged well since it was constructed in the late seventies. Joan took the lift to the third floor, where she’d been given a small office to assess the students assigned to her. Four or five other members of staff from the psychology department volunteered their free time there too, with patients dolled out to them in a kind of raffle. Students wanting therapy would be added to a waitlist and scheduled with whoever was available whenever they were available. It wasn’t ideal but it was better than nothing. 

“Hi, Dr Leland,” the volunteer behind a receptionist’s desk greeted Joan brightly, handing her a file. 

“Hi Sarah,” Joan smiled back at her. “How is everything?”

“It’s pretty dead,” Sarah observed affably. “I guess the kids are feeling pretty good after the break. No finals to stress them out.”

“Sure,” Joan agreed politely, inwardly thinking that many of these young people would likely be in need of more therapy after the holidays, not less. “Who am I seeing today?” she opened the file, her eyes widening when she found a police report inside. 

“Ah, she’s kind of a special case,” Sarah sighed. “Her boyfriend was Guy Kopski, you know, the boy who committed suicide before the holidays?” She cringed, which made Joan frown, deeming a cringe to be a particularly inappropriate response from someone working closely with students requiring support and compassion. “Anyway, the financial aid office insisted she either take time off from school or get some form of therapy. She’s waiting in your office.”

“The FA office is involved? That seems heavy-handed,” Joan mused, scanning the police report before she turned the page. “Oh,” she nodded, understanding. 

Harleen Quinzel was on a full-ride scholarship, and she was an orphan. The financial aid office wanted to make sure their investment paid off. 

Sad stories were something you got used to working in psychology. It was important to empathize with your patients, and that never got easier or less painful, but the longer you did the job, the more you accepted those stories as part of life. Joan would never feel numb toward the people she helped, but their stories did become less shocking to her. Including Guy Kopski’s violent suicide.

To jump off a building, one truly had to want to die.  

Joan knocked on her office door before pushing it open, her lips curving into a patient smile, which came naturally to her after years and years of listening to sad stories. 

“Harleen?” she asked the girl waiting for her, keeping her voice soft. 

Harleen Quinzel sat at one end of a pale green corduroy couch, looking out the window. She had long, honey blonde hair that fell in soft, messy waves around her shoulders, and she wore the typical GU-girl winter uniform of leggings, a collegiate sweatshirt, and snow boots. She turned her head when Joan said her name, her sober expression inspiring an almost painful pang of sympathy in Joan. Harleen looked strained and pale, her blue eyes overly-large like she’d lost a lot of weight quickly, with bruise-like smudges beneath. It had been about three weeks since Guy Kopski’s suicide, and Joan realized that Harleen probably hadn’t had anyone to talk to about how she was feeling in that span of time. 

In fact, if she had no family to speak of, she would have spent most of that time alone in Gotham while her friends went back to their family’s homes.

“Dr Leland,” Harleen greeted Joan warily. 

Joan lowered herself onto the other end of the couch; she should have taken the chair, but Harleen was so… alone, it seemed more natural to sit beside her. To be closer to her.

“I’ve been filled in about Guy and the financial aid office,” Joan explained kindly while Harleen nodded. “This may be a very general way to open, but would you like to tell me how you’re feeling today?”

Harleen took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, her eyes on one of the many ferns populating the room. 

“Numb,” she said eventually, not looking away from the fern. “Like it didn’t happen.”

 “Acceptance is the final stage of grief,” Joan replied kindly. “It’s only been three weeks. It makes sense that you haven’t fully processed Guy's death.”

“No,” Harleen caught Joan’s eye. Her eyes were glacial, like an icy arctic sea. “I’ve accepted that he’s gone,” she said softly. “I just don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about it.”

“There isn’t one way you should feel about it,” Joan said patiently. “It’s not about what you decide you should feel - you’ll feel whatever you feel. That’s one of the things we’re here to talk about so you can understand and cope with those feelings.”

“I know that. I meant I don’t know what I’m feeling, or if I’m even feeling anything at all,” Harleen explained, her gaze shifting back to the fern. She blinked at it a few times, her face placid as she searched her feelings, trying to understand them. “It’s like it didn’t happen to me, but someone else…” she murmured to herself.

Joan was about to jump in, not wanting to push her too hard in the first five minutes when Harleen spoke up again. 

“Everyone knows green is a soothing color,” she observed, running her hand over the corduroy couch cushion. “Doesn’t it seem a little patronizing to use it so liberally?”

“I’m not sure everyone knows that,” Joan offered her a wry smile. “You’re a psych major, aren’t you?”

“You’re the head of the psychology department, aren’t you?” Harleen countered tartly, imitating Joan’s tone perfectly. Then she shifted back into moroseness, almost more intensely than she had been before, and she took a deep breath like she was bracing herself. 

Joan felt a startling thread of dread roll through her gut - some sixth sense waving a flag that there was something wrong with this young woman. The way she flipped on a dime, from depressed to… whatever that was, and back again. It made Joan wonder if there wasn’t something ingenuine about her grief.

But, Joan reminded herself, there was nothing wrong with anyone. No matter what their pathology, no matter what their circumstances. There was a diagnosis to contend with, but no human being could be wrong. 

Aside from, perhaps, some of the most vicious psychopaths.

What made a person human if not empathy? 

“I’m hoping to get into the PhD program after I graduate,” Harleen said, giving Joan a hopeful smile that looked forced. 

“That’s wonderful,” Joan beamed at her, shrugging off her unease. “There’s pretty stiff competition, but you’ve certainly got the grades for it. What are you interested in?”

Harleen licked her lips, eyeing the fern thoughtfully as she considered Joan’s question. Or, perhaps she was considering how to answer Joan’s question. The longer the silence stretched on, the more Joan came to feel she was trying to craft an answer for Joan’s sake, rather than telling the truth. But that was ludicrous, there was nothing she could say that Joan would judge her for. 

Then Harleen looked at Joan, and there was a faint gleam in her eyes, something dark that sent an uneasy shiver rolling over Joan’s shoulders. 

“Psychopaths,” Harleen announced grimly, the word seeming to hang in the air between them. “I want to understand the way they feel,” she added, sounding more subdued.  

Joan raised her eyebrows. Psychopaths were frequent favorites for the younger students, no doubt because they were one of the more exciting pathologies. Not to mention the many movies featuring glamorized versions of them - Hannibal Lector, Patrick Batement, Frank Booth, and nearly every other villain created by Hollywood. 

But there was something… certain about Harleen's words. 

Something personal. 

“Psychopaths don’t feel very much,” Joan pointed out cautiously, watching Harleen turn her attention to the corduroy couch, stroking the ribbed fabric slowly. “They have almost zero emotional intelligence. Everything they do is driven by impulse, trying to feed the pleasure center of their brain for immediate gratification.”

“Really?” Harleen frowned as she looked up at Joan. “All of them?”

“Generally speaking,” Joan said hesitantly, holding Harleen’s gaze, which was intense and made her feel somehow… exposed. 

Harleen sighed and looked down at the pale green couch cushion.

“I wonder if psychopaths find green soothing,” she mused, sounding genuinely curious.

That brought a smile to Joan’s lips. Curiosity was one of her most prized qualities in a student.

After that first meeting, Joan met Harleen every other week for the rest of the semester, getting to know her sad story and her curious mind. There was something about her that made Joan feel protective of her, almost like she owed it to Harleen to give her what she needed to succeed. 

There was also something about Harleen that reminded Joan of Jonathan Crane. Something a shade too ambitious, something a fraction too disinterested in the people around her. They both had sad stories, but while Jonathan’s seemed to drag him down, Harleen seemed to exist separately from hers, as if none of it had really happened to her.

Joan was dismayed but not surprised when the world found out what Jonathan Crane turned Arkham Asylum into. His fear toxin, torturing his patients, working with the mob, the Scarecrow moniker, all of it seemed like an inevitable conclusion.  

But she could have never predicted how Harleen’s story panned out. 

Joan had always worried about the way Harleen monitored herself in front of other people. Over the years that followed their first meeting, she could never understand why her most talented student felt the need to hide her thoughts and feelings, and there was always something decidedly… clenched about how she carried herself. As if there was a weight on her shoulders she couldn’t shake off, something constantly holding her back from being herself, something she was constantly fighting against. 

It wasn’t until the world was introduced to Harley Quinn that Joan understood what that something was.

And all it had taken was the Joker to unlock it.

A/N: Again, just a little writing exercise with some throwbacks to the Harlequin, but nothing revolutionary or spoilery.

Now time to write what I’m supposed to be writing...