#just cause she thought Ivy was dead

[poisonousquinzel]

I cannot express to y'all how much I hate this show and the fact that they did this whole part So Fucking Well and accurately in season one makes it all the worse because it just shows that they don't Care to take Harley or her trauma as an abuse survivor seriously.

They treated him like the abuser he is until they no longer needed too for that specific plot thread. He had to be a dickhead for her to leave and to have that arc, but not because they view him as the catalyst for the horrors in her life and in her mental health.

He was just the character that was used for specific moments in the plot when an antagonistic ex was needed rather than as a character who's actions affected the plot and Harley as a person in universe.

But He Was. He was the root cause of this. That's not some shameful thing and frankly I'm tired of content pretending like abuse victims having visible trauma that is caused by their abuser and acknowledging and putting reasonable blame on said abuser for that somehow takes away their agency or something. It doesn't make Harley a weak person (or character) to have been greatly negatively affected by years of severe domestic abuse. That's just realistic. PTSD exists, especially in cases involving abuse (I say as someone who's literally been diagnosed with PTSD since I was like 13. I have a fucking laundry list of mental/physical health issues and they are like All my father's fault. Abusers ruin lives and they deserve to be held responsible for that.) and it's not the victim's fucking fault or some weakening aspect of characterization that needs to be fixed under the pretense of it being sexist or something. Absolutely there's content that uses Harley's status as a victim in uncomfortable or grossly sexual / sexist ways, but that doesn't make the realistic trauma that she should have any less realistic??? It's just bad writing. That's obnoxiously common for female comic characters. It's just people, similarly to those who don't know fuck all about idk education?? who try to claim it's possible for her to sleep her way to a Medical Degree, who know next to nothing about trauma responses, DV, PTSD, esc.

That's a writing failure.

I'm sorry but I don't view some of the media going out of it's way to make her a horrid person pre Joker as some sort of Girl Boss rewrite that gives her back her agency and control (cause wow it's actually all better now cause he didn't push her into the acid! She jumped! It's fine! Now it's a Girl Boss Moment! ���) as some sort of positive shift in writing.

Abuse affects people. Manipulation affects people. Love Bombing affects people. And it just feels like some writers have used this characterization for Harleen as a reasoning to bit by bit chip away at the responsibility Joker holds for what he did to her and the path he purposefully led her down under the guise that she Was helping him. That she's the only one who's ever listened and understood, that she Was saving him. He did that. He chose every step of the way what he was doing and what he was leading her to believe. He's not a fucking idiot, he's a canonically master manipulator who spent years doing just that, let him be held responsible for the actions she never would have taken without his heavy influence and manipulation lingering against her neck.

And HQTAS proved that was the way they viewed him the second they had the chance. They brought him back, made him a reoccurring Humorous character that's supposed to come across as No Longer The Abusive Ex Just A Foe Sometimes But He's Changed<3 He Has A Family Now<3 He's Mayor:D

also,,, Idk, but there's something to be said about how it comes across like well he was just abusive in his relationship with Harley cause lol after all

"violence was a hallmark of our relationship too"

and once he found a good woman who's not so damned clingy and Harley Like he was able to be the man he always was underneath. He was only like that because he was with Harley, she brought it out of him.

And that's a really fucking nasty vibe for your telling of an abusive relationship to have.

Abusers don't just change. And certainly not ones who don't view their abusive actions as abuse.

Abusers cannot mentally decide to better themselves and stop their abusive actions if they don't even acknowledge or view themselves as abusive. Maybe he was better before he got his memory back but then he was Back. He was the exact same man who shoved her out of that plane with a grin and maniacal laughter.

And that man went on to fondly think back on his abuse of her while witnessing what (in his eyes) is an entirely unprovoked attack from Ivy against his ex.

"violence was a hallmark of our relationship too"

"HQTAS not having the balls to permanently kill Joker off continues to be one of its biggest faults and I will not forgive them for that."

Their biggest fault is causing the upsurgence of casual pro Joker posts in Harley's tag in light of episodes showing him being "normal" and "based" and "wow look at him! being a socialist! and wanting healthcare!"

wow! it's almost like I don't really give a shit what political stance this domestic abuser takes in this show called Harley Quinn, ya know, the name of the ex he violently and graphically abused throughout the entirety of their relationship?

But oh! Whatever! if he's turned over a new leaf, Who cares! The past's the past's and the writers would rather redeem him! For some stupid ass reason! (Spoiler alert: It's because he's popular and they're cowards)

So let's forget how he literally murdered Poison Ivy!

& forget how he tortured her crew! And planned to have them publicly executed ! Lol!!

He's a cool dad now! He's hip! Whoo!!

Forget about all that abuse in the first season haha! It wasn't plot important anyway!

What's PTSD?! That's not a thing lol Harley would totally not have PTSD from him, they're buddies now! just ignore the little bits of obvious lasting trauma like her flinching

he's taking over her twitter! so sorry if you happen to follow this account and find him triggering or anything lol cause he's hijacking it for his run for mayor! & now he's all over your timeline,, isn't he quirky

He makes jokes about limber she is-- while her private sexual encounter is being broadcasted to all of Gotham WITHOUT HER CONSENT-- and how "violence was a hallmark of our relationship too", cause he's just such a fucking peach now y'all

That was last season.

In episode 12.

While he had a Girlfriend.

He has not owned up to his own actions.

He's not some Reformed Domestic Abuser who's long since changed, shown he's changed and is sorry for what he did because he has not even taken accountability for the fact that No, violence wasn't a "hallmark of their relationship." It wasn't some quirky occurrence to look back at with a sigh of fondness.

Abuse was the staple of their relationship. Abuse that was inflicted by his fucking hands.

The Joker is a monster.

Harley Quinn: The Animated Series version of him is one just as well.

Even just from the part of the cycle we saw from Season 1, he was absolutely at his worst. It's not even like they toned it down for this, they built him up to be the monster that he is and then tried to backpedal and are now pretending he's just a completely different dude now that he's not with Harley.

News Flash, but Harley wasn't the first woman Joker's manipulated into helping him while simultaneously leading them to believe they were mutually falling in love

She's just one of the only survivors.

Because that's what she did. For years. Survived.

And sorryyyy, but I ain't exactly known for looking past The Joker's abusive transgressions and I'm sure as shit not starting now just because he's had a pitifully rushed "redemption" arc with some poorly iced He's A Socialist frosting on top.

Or am I supposed to pretend like in Season 1, Episode 8 he didn't put his manipulation skills to full use and, to add insult to injury, knowing he was going to push her out of the plane, he still kissed her.

Multiple times.

He initiated the kiss. He moved down her neck.

There was no fucking reason he needed to do that. It was just another thing he knew he could do to hurt her.

He pushed so many lines in that episode and then immediately shoved her out of a plane.

He relished in it.

Knowing how much trust she'd just put in him, how much she'd let her guard down and trusted him. She just admitted she dreamed of these moments, of escaping with him.

Because he had abandoned her so many fucking times.

Harley: I used to dream about this moment.

The Joker, laughing amusedly: Oh, Harley, I couldn't leave you on the boat.

I need you.

And then he kissed her! He fucking kissed her!

The Joker: For this.

He pulls her in and repeatedly kisses her.

Harley, making happy noises of approval and giddiness as she kisses him back.

The Joker, quietly as he kisses her neck: That's it.

Batman appears next to them, but Harley's none the wiser as she's gazing happily up at him.

The Joker: And this! Aha Ha Ha Ha!

He violently shoves her through the door of the plane into open air, cackling maniacally.

And she trusted him.

Harley trusted that this time was different. Because she wasn't his henchwoman anymore, she wasn't Her anymore. This was different. She'd escaped with him! They were on equal grounds now...

He respected her. She was important. She was a part of The Legion of Doom. She was a big shot now.

And that's exactly what he meant to do. Because he knew he had to this time, he had to lure her deeper. He had to slather the love bombing on thick to get her to drop her guard.

He had to pretend he was fine with them being equals.

So he did.

He pretended and he acted and he played her. He was cruel.

The mask did have cracks, it absolutely did. It angered him having her correct him and it angered him having to pretend he found her to be a master equal to him.

The Joker: No, I believe it's the student becomes A Master equal to the original master, but not with more mastery than that master.

It was something he couldn't pretend for a moment to believe. He couldn't even lower his ego enough to say a quote correctly "The student becomes the master." because he does not value her as equally.

And after love bombing her all evening long, after watching her drop her guard.

After she admitted she'd dreamed of these moments of escaping with him. After he kissed her.

He shoves her out of a plane once Batman has caught up with them.

Grinning like a maniac.

He knew, he always knew. He enjoyed what he did to her and he's never owned up to anything.

Hurting her is a game to him. He enjoys it. He's always fucking enjoyed it.

He murdered her best friend. Happily!

He captured her remaining friends and tortured them. He planned to hold a public execution.

He wanted to entirely isolate her so she'd have no other choice but to return to him, cause there's no other options if he kills them all.

And, then this part.

This is the entire reason this post isn't a reblog because I don't think just making gifs of this scene does it justice in terms of how sinister he sounds so:

The Joker, chuckling: I want you to put this on.

Cackles darkly before throwing it at her.

Come on, remember how much fun you had in that costume?

Harley: No... I didn't have fun... You were the one having fun. It wasn't till I got away from you that I realized how deeply unfun being with you was!

So I would rather blow myself up and take you with me then go back to being your sidekick and wearing that fucking costume!!

The Joker: So, how about you make this easy and put. The Outfit. On.

"violence was a hallmark of our relationship too"

all of this happened in Season 1.

He says that in Season 2 folks.

Again.

Abuse was a hallmark of their relationship. On his part. He was abusive.

That's not what he said. And he said it with a sigh of "ah, good times" vibes

He looks back on his abusive actions with fondness.

He found humor and pleasure in hurting her and thinking back on it is a good memory for him. It's not a Bad Thing he did that he's remorseful for because all those memories are things he views as good moments.

"violence was a hallmark of our relationship too"

Hall-Mark

noun noun: hallmark; plural noun: hallmarks

• a distinctive feature, especially one of excellence.

He didn't do any of this because he had beef with Poison Ivy, or any of the members of her crew individually.

It all had to do with hurting her.

To get one up on her.

He knew Ivy was important to her.

He knew Ivy was a threat to him when it came to achieving his end goal of erasing Harley completely. So he killed her.

He knew hurting her crew would hurt Harley, he knew that having them there would be a failsafe because while he will hurt them, she won't.

Which means her suicide mission of blowing herself up and taking him with her wouldn't work. He knew that when he let her upstairs. The second she was in that room he had essentially defused the bomb.

Cause he knew she'd never take the crew down with her purposefully.

And then when he gets what he wants, she puts on that fucking costume, he doesn't just end it there.

No.

No.

He decides "let's try n break her heartstrings for old times sake" and pulls the love bombing shtick once again.

She doesn't fall for it, but pretends she does so she can get in close to stab him.

The Joker: You were always so unoriginal, stealing my ideas!

But

He was fully going to kill her even if she did fall for it.

Even if she was completely on board with his bullshit, with all the horror he'd done in the past few episodes towards her friends. Even if she was happy to overlook all of that cause he said the right thing, he plucked the right strings and had her swooning.

He was going to stab her.

It didn't matter.

He was going to do it again.

The Joker had no reason to try and woo her back in (What He Believed To Be) the final moments of her life.

He did it because he thought it would be funny to see the tears in her eyes as she realized he had hurt her again.

As she realized he had stabbed her in the stomach.

That's why he did it.

He wanted her to love him again because he wanted to kill That Harley. The one who would feel the most pain from this, emotionally and mentally. He wanted to watch That Harley suffer.

Because he thinks it's funny. He finds pleasure in hurting her.

And this was going to be the final time, the last hurrah.

So he wanted to have her go out with a bang. A shot in the heart.

Because The Joker is a cruel, manipulative monster who gets off on seeing her in pain that he knows he caused.

"violence was a hallmark of our relationship too"

The Joker is not remorseful for the trauma or suffering he caused her. And his political stance doesn't mean fucking shit to me. His rushed redemption doesn't mean anything, it doesn't change his actions towards Harley and his complete disregard for the truth of the matter. He's a fuckhead and he deserved to stay dead.

[jasmines-library]

Pollen

WHUMPTOBER DAY 4: prompt: Hallucinations

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Summary: After being snatched by Ivy, she decides to experiment on you with a new type of plant that causes hallucinations.

Warnings: blood, kidnapping, dislocation.

Word count: 1.5k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER 2024

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You were sure you were dying.

Atleast that’s what it felt like. Your entire body was in agony, burning like a thousand fires blazing with the fury of a God.

It had been days since you had been snatched. As a vigilante, much less one of the Robins, you were very high on the profile list for abduction by Gothams criminals. They seemed to have a thing for you and the rest of your team. Probably because of your links to Batman. They all liked to get back at him. Possibly because they hated you for intervening with their ploys. Most likely because they assumed you were young and naive, and therefore easy to take down. You didn’t go down without a fight. No. But Ivy had managed to get the up on you, using her plants as to overwhelm you. And so there you were. Half dead, tied up in what was practically a greenhouse.

Every wall was scaled by some sort of plant. Green. Red. Pink. You couldn’t really tell anymore. Your vision had sort of just blurred into one and when it hadn’t you hardly had they energy to lift your head to look around you. All you knew was that it was uncomfortably warm; beads of sweat rolled down your face into your eyes and caused your hair to stick to your forehead.

It had been days since you had so much as heard from Posion ivy. Or anyone else for that matter. You were so hungry it hurt. But not as much as the various half healed half oozing wounds that were left gaping open from your fight. You had hardly slept either. Too uncomfortable from where you hung from the wall. You were sure that your shoulders were going to dislocate. If they hadn’t already. Perhaps they had. You don’t rember the pop. Or the pain. But then again….everything was hurting. You weren’t sure what was broken and what was bleeding. Only that it hurt.

Ivy had claimed that she had some ‘special plan’ for you. You weren’t sure what it was, but when criminals say they have something special planned, it never means anything good. And that was….who knows how many days ago. Perhaps her plan was to just leave you there to rot. To decay like one of her forgotten plants. With the way you felt, you were sure you weren’t far off. The other pressing matter was the fact that you were still there. That no one had come to rescue you. At first you were confident. You were absolutely certain that the rest of your team would come bursting through the doors not long after they realised you had been taken. But that window of hope had long closed.

The door slid open with a rattle of chains. In strode ivy, her head held high, heels clicking sharply on the floor as she strode over to you with a proud grin on her face. She seemed to circle you, as though you were a prized flower ready to be pruned. Pinching your chin between her index, middle finger and thumb, she lifted your head from where it had been laying on your chest and forced you to look at her. You tried to scowl at her, looking up at her through your eyebrows in an attempt to intimidate her, but it was more amusing than anything and she just let out a short tut.

“That’s no way to treat your host now, is it?”

“I’d hardly call it hosting” you retorted back through a strained, mumbled breath.

She seemed amused at this. “Now now. I told you I had something special planned, didn’t I?” Ivy said, running a slender finger along your jawline. “You see, I’ve been working on something new and I thought it would be fun to try it on you” she said. “I was actually hoping for one of the boys. But now I’m thinking you’ll do quite nicely”

“The fuck do you want with me?”

“I’ve been experimenting with a new type of plant. The pollen is quite fascinating. A very potent hallucinogenic. And I’m thinking it’ll do quite nicely on you. You’ve seen lots. I’m excited to see what it’ll make that fucked up little brain of yours see.” As she spoke, Ivy seemed to be fiddling with something that you couldn’t quite see. When she stepped closer to you, you could see the plant she had clearly been talking about. It was a strange looking flower. Orange with dainty petals. But a deadly pollen. You could already see the spores in that one singular plant; but as she manipulated it to grow and surround you completely, you began to feel their effects almost immediately. At first you felt light headed. And then, Ivy was completely gone.

The first thing your brain conjured up was yourself. It was like you were looking into a mirror. You could see yourself hanging, feet barely touching the ground as you struggled to gain leverage, blood dried and crusted across your skin. But then, your likeness soon merged into Damian, the youngest of your team whom you felt very protective towards. You let out a gasp, struggling forwards to reach him. He was in pain. You could tell from the twisted expression on his face and his cries that cut right through you.

“Dami-“ you struggled, trying to get to him. You hated seeing him in pain. Hated nothing more than hearing his cried. “Dami—“

The hallucination played out in front of you cruelly. The pollen making you completely oblivious to the fact that what you were seeing was in fact, not real.

It wasn’t long before the hallucination changed again. But it was equally as distressing as before. This time it was not one of your team, but it was the joker himself, looming over you with a twisted grin. And you felt the pain and he advanced on you. You weren’t sure if you screamed or not.

No one knew how long the hallucinations had been playing out when they finally found you. Dick and Jason flung the door open and Tim quickly detained Ivy. You were a crying, whimpering mess. Clearly distressed as well as bloody and bruised. You were in a state that none of them had ever wished to see you in and they cursed themselves for not reaching you sooner. Jason approached you cautiously, trying to get your attention. But your eyes stared vacantly ahead, your face painted with an expression of pain. Fear. When Jason reached out a hand to touch you, you practically screamed.

“Hey hey- it’s me. It’s Jason. It’s us.” He tried to say, but your breath came quickly as your eyes darted across the room. You were terrified, that was to say the least. Jason wasn’t even certain if you could see him or not. Your eyes just sort of stared past him.

“Is she…..” Damian spoke rather fearfully.

Dick studied you carefully, cringing at the painful sight of your shoulders and how they practically popped out of their sockets. He noticed you reacting to things around them, but not to them.

“Hey, kiddo…..” dick approached you. “Whatever you’re seeing it’s not real, okay?” He reached out and placed a gentle hand on your face. “It’s not real. But we are. Okay. We’re here. We’re real. It’s me. And jay and Tim and Dami. Okay? We’re real….just look at me….”

Hesitantly, your eyes did manage to tear away from the horrors your mind had created and to find his face. Your eyes watched him. His hand. How it cupped your face with a tenderness that the hallucinations had all lacked.

“…..Dick…..?” You mumbled.

The four boys let out a breath. “Yeah sweetheart. It’s us. We’re gonna get you out of here okay?”

“…….okay….” You agreed quietly. Once you said that, Dick wrapped his arms around you to support you as Tim worked on releasing your arms from their holds. You let out a whimper as your arms were freed.

“I know…I know” Jason said, smoothing your hair away from your face as Dick scooped you up “we’ve got you now, sweetheart. We’re real. We’re gonna get you some help.”

Jason’s words were comforting and they cut over the raucous of your hallucinations.

“We’re sorry it took us so long to find you kiddo….so, so sorry….” Tim said lowly to you as they began to hurry you out of the door and towards the Batmobile so they could rush you back to the cave. You would likely need some sort of antidote or way to flush the spores from your system. “We got you..:and were never letting you go again”

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<- DAY THREE. ⛤ DAY FIVE ->

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TAGS:

@hearts4robs @kingshitonly @alicedawitchbish @hell-o-kittys @azure-drag0ness @harleycao @thewhispersofthewaves @batfamsstuff @xxrougefangxx @rosecentury @noisymutantherelol @killxz @rhiodes @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl

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[achaotichuman]

Recently I delved into the depths of my docs to find the first fanfiction I wrote for ACOTAR that never saw the light of day.

Obviously it's horrible writing, but I like the premise and since I am addicted to piling more projects on top of my scheldule I rewrote the first chapter and redid the plot for it.

Originally these events take place a year or two after the war with Hybern, and everything is the exact same EXCEPT for somethin Tamlin is doing.

I changed it so that this is a fic of what would have happened if Tamlin didn't give over that drop of power to bring Rhysand back.

Anyway, here's there rewritten chapter. Tell me if you guys like it!

“Be happy Feyre.”

The words nearly tumbled out of his mouth. The carefully loving words that wrapped like ivy around his throat, choking him, those last cords of love that had twisted into something else. That had made him soft for her. He had offered his heart like ripe fruit on a silver platter for her to take and now look at where he stood. 

Bloodied, gore and guts clinging to his armour like a second layer of skin, mud caked on his legs and arms. Hair a mess, dirty and disgusting. His people, his armies, whom he had gone to his knees to earn the trust of them back, after she twisted their minds, undid their memories, stared in every personal thought to create a new story for all of them. One that fit her narrative. 

The damage she had caused, the things she had taken. What she had done, what she had cost not just them but all of Pryhtian. Destroying the Courts she had saved not even a year ago. 

Now, on her knees, holding the man who had assaulted her night after night after night whilst she vomited, cried and danced and laughed, and been drugged. She screamed his name whilst she cling to his lifeless form. 

The good for nothing bastard Lord was finally dead. Tamlin should have breathed a sigh of relief. 

Instead every High Lord stood around awkwardly, as one after the other they had willingly handed over their magic despite what this man had done to them. Despite how much they all hated him. They did it for his grief-stricken mate who screamed for them to help. To bring him back the same way she had come back. 

But he was dead for what he had done. Giving over power to remake the Cauldron, the mother had taken his very soul with the magic, the price paid to put the world back together. 

Truly, who were they to defy her?

Tamlin stood up straight, when Feyre stared up at him, eyes filled with tears as she saw his stone-cold face. 

“Please,” She screamed, “Please I’ll do anything!”

Green eyes cut from her to the other Lords. None made eye-contact with him. All looking elsewhere, anywhere, the grey-red clouds above, the torn battlefield layered with bodies on decaying bodies, the rivers running red with blood. Some of them, no doubt reminded of Amarantha’s reign of terror by the bloodshed, looked to the muddy ground. 

But none dared look in his eye, all knew what she had done to him. Her reasons for doing so. They also all knew what he had done to her. 

But staring down at her now, thinking back on all of it. 

Thinking back on the slander of Court, the destruction of his people. The lying, the scheming, the pure hatred. 

Then there was one final thought that struck true. 

What would they have all done if it had been him dead on the floor and not Rhysand?

The image of his bloodied mother, his dead brothers, even as cruel as they were, flashed before his eyes. 

“No.” He said. Standing tall and true, “I will not hand over my magic.”

“You fucking monster!” A girl with gold streaked blonde hair lunged at him from out of nowhere. Morrigan. 

She didn’t get far, from where she was knees deep in the mud. A flash of gold and a short-sudden scream from her. She was pinned to the floor with golden threads. Not painful, but certainly startling, and no doubt humiliating. 

Tamlin couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

Feyre stared up at him. Her wet blue eyes boring into his own with a deep-cut grief that would have broken him just a few weeks ago. 

Now. 

Now all he felt was mild pity, and a distant sadness, for the girl who had been killed under the mountain and never brought back. 

“Who's to say the real Rhysand would even return?” Tamlin said, voice mockingly kind, “When the first time we brought a human back, she was not the same at all?”

Feyre’s saddened eyes turned wrathful, her beautiful face twisting into a deadly scowl. All that hatred, focused solely on him. 

“You were what led me to my death! And now you refuse to even help him!” She screamed, the pain and grief tearing through her, along with the emptiness of where her mating bond used to be no doubt fueling her rage. 

“You led yourself to your death as did he.” Tamlin said, perfectly calm and stoic. She wouldn’t get a rise out of him. Not anymore. 

Tamlin looked to the others, “Think about all that male has done to us. Think of what his mate has brought down upon our lands. And maybe rethink tossing your magic carelessly at whatever dead corpse lays before you.”

“He is not a corpse!” Feyre shrieked. Her cries and screams becoming distant. Vague. As weariness bore heavy on him. For the mortal, the living, unfortunately exhaustion was a natural occurrence. 

Tamlin’s eyes went down to Rhysand. Least he’ll never be exhausted again. 

The thought was cruel, and maybe he was a horrible man for feeling relief. Staring into that lifeless face, knowing he was dead forever. Gone. Bound to never bring him misfortune again. 

“You are a heartless male.” A seething voice said somewhere near him. Tamlin looked towards where a limping Illyrian with blue siphons hissed, looking like he wanted to tear the High Lord to shreds but his own limitations and injuries prevented it. 

A cold, humourless smile broke out on his face. The Spring Lord looked down upon Feyre. 

“Give him your own magic.” He said, tilting his head, “Why don’t you hand over those drops of power you claim to make yourself so, so powerful?”

She was silent, as tears continued to stream down her face, he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Oh right, you can’t.”

He would leave after this and never see her face again, he hoped, but he didn’t bite his tongue to prevent the final blow, “Our magic is the only thing holding you together. You claim yourself so powerful. Above the rest of us entirely. The self-proclaimed High Lady of the Night Court, equal to the most powerful in all the Earth. But you really aren’t. You need our magic to survive.”

Tamlin looked back at Rhysand, and didn’t hide the relief on his face, “You can’t bring him back without us.”

The Nightmare was gone. Now all that was left was the cleanup. 

Feyre screamed, whether it was an insult, her hatred or simply incoherent, he didn’t know. He winnowed away. Back to Spring. 

It was time for a cleanup. 

And he had plans to make things right in his Court. In Prythian in its entirety. 

***

I probably will not continue this fic since I have so much I need to write already, but I think its fun to go back and reflect on my old ideas and rewrite to compare to how my form was before and how it is now.

[yandere-wishes]

just read the latest grayson fic and him with joker and harly’s daughter 😊 it would be so good.

I think wildcard would be good because having a child grow up in the Gillian industry, they would see the fails others have had and she could use them as well so you don’t know what she knows from other villains. And oml giggles sounds like something her parents would call her as a cute nickname💜 I love that thought.

I'm so glad you enjoyed it!! I actually have plans to write HC for all the batboys with their respective villain!Darlings! I'm just not sure when I'll get to it cause Uni is starting up again soon 😭😭😭

I'm not sure what the Gillian industry is (do all of Batman's villains have homes in the same neighborhood? That would make for killer domestic life fanfiction!!!💞💖💞💖) But the idea of her being a "Wildcard" and having been raised on the villains' doctrines. Given the chance to study their shortcomings is IMMACULATE!!! She'd be so overpowered, I LOVE IT!!

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🂠 She's not just the daughter of Batman's greatest (and scariest) villain, but also an amalgamation of all his rogues. She'd know all his weaknesses before she was even a teenager. Bonus points if she was literally raised by the Rogue's gallery to BE Batman's demise!!

🂠 Joker I feel would be a good dad (I know scandalous thought) there is a joke somewhere in all of this. That you created someone, an extension of yourself to defeat your greatest rival. That it took years of your failure to make a perfect "version of yourself". Someone stronger, smarter, better, someone who is the panicle of all you stand for and want to achieve. Although I can see him being a strict father, one who only permits social interactions with other "freaks" trying to keep her daughter safe from all the "boring sheep" of Gotham.  

🂠 Harley is such a loving (smothering at times) mother. She will definitely teach her daughter all she knows. Heck her first toy is probably going to be a mallet of some kind. Their Mother-Daughter time consists of Gymnastic training and rollerblading.

🂠 Ivy is definitely the Godmother (IDK who the Godfather would be? Riddler may be or Twoface just for the divorced aesthetic with Ivy)�� and despite it not sitting well with Joker. She's going to teach the reader about seduction and how to lour in your prey.

🂠 The rest of the rouges help out too. Teach her all they know, raising her to be better than they ever were. I feel like, as the rouges grow older, they start to see the merit in having a legacy, someone to raise and "pass the torch to" kinda like Bats does with the Robins.

🂠 But the irony of all this is that Wildcard!Reader prefers to fight Nightwing as opposed to Batman. Sure it's fun family time to try all kill the bat with her mother and father. But she's honestly more interested in ripping apart the Wisecraking acrobat that somehow knows exactly where she is at all times. The black-haired menace that won't leave her alone, that hugs her a little too close and too tightly when he's cuffing her wrists. The golden boy who stole her first kiss and who shamelessly trails even more kisses down her neck. The "HERO" who haunts her nightmares even when she's home, safely tucked into her funhouse-esque bed...

🂠 Wildcard!Reader is slowly but surely starting to see just why her father is so obsessed with Batman, there is something so disgustingly saccharine about these heroes, something so bright that it crawls under your skin and festers inside you. She wants to see Nightwing dead, to ring his neck with her own fingers, to string him from the tent roof and pluck his teeth out one by one. But while Wildcard!Reader is dreaming up Nightwing's demise, the same hero is watching her through her window, tracing little hearts along the glass, fantasizing about the day she'll be in his arms forever.

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I think that also adds so much to the story, she was raised to kill Batman but grew obsessed with Nightwing. Legacy crashing into legacy. The one destined to destroy and the one fated to protect.

Her parents shrug it off as a "rebellious phase". Thinking that one day she'll awaken ready to commence on a warpath to Batman. But this hate-filled obsession isn't going away, it grows stronger by the day.

Harley is kinda happy that her little Giggles has found both her arch nemesis and obsession.  

Joker, on the other hand, is...conflicted, on one hand, he's happy that his enmity with the Batman/batfamily will outlive him. But on the other hand, he'd just LOVE to see his little girl finally put an end to Batsy. Albit if she did do that then Joker wouldn't have an excuse to get out of the Bahama trip he's been promising Harley.

Also, I completely forgot about Dick living in the circus, that just adds another intriguing layer to all of this!!

[rosie-darling]

notes from whitepine episode 4!! bolded are my important thoughts

0:06 "i could scream and you both would be dead"

vi as a young genius (young enough to not be able to leave the house without an adult but old/clever enough to understand redstone)

2:01 "a button that can only be pressed if a condition is met"

3:44 ivory being comfortable around vi despite all the stuff about leniency and blackmail :)

3:56 i gotta be so fr. the redstone on the floor looked like blood when serapter walked in ALSO serapter suspect because he knows secret passages????? "i gave him the runaround" HOW

4:35 vi's little jumps of excitement 😭

4:49 he's so scary help "look a little happier" is craaaazy

6:16, 6:27, 6:49, 7:00, 18:47 - the detective watching ivory >:(

8:46 something about the way he says "yeah, the boring meetings" doesn't sit right with me like i trust pyro so much but …… hmm

10:32 he's havin a panakatak :( /ref

11:42 "i'll pay!" my SWEETHEART :(

12:08 "have you taken your break at all today?" and "don't work yourself to death over this job"

12:53 smth about the assumption that wild = scary "probably getting ready to mangle us or something" + mysti's cause of death, the camera angle from above that makes it seem like he's being watched, and "i've heard how protective mother bears are of their children that they'll like.. kill anything" - and !! "i wasn't sure if it was dead so i shot it a few more times just to reassure myself" - were the extra wounds to mysti done for the same reason?

13:27 izzy looking at zolister and then her food like his story makes her sick - i really really wonder what connections she has!!!

14:26 "i'm not just here for your dad's blessing" as in. for marriage???

14:50 izzy seems really baffled by him idk

15:50 the first pretty thing vi takes ivory to is the factory "my dad owns it" is crazy. and "there's no way people didn't die while building it"

16:11 am i going nuts or was that the sound of a train - generally that whole sequence felt like a flashback-inducing thing idk

17:00 vi just seems so happy to have a friend 😭

17:40 "we own this field" yes we know your dad is rich vi

17:51 there's no way that shed is uninhabited

19:10 i've heard the "bormethius stole the cot" theory but what about a "bormethius snatched the bag to get ivory to come to the art room" theory [the sound design here is SO good!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]

20:43 ok hear me out. we suspect bormethius has a track record of stealing. i reckon he snatched the bag AND the cot - so, if he sees zam looking for him (while staying hidden, because he's not mentioned again), he can pretty easily extrapolate that ivy went to HIS room. ergo, he could steal something from zam's room and frame ivory so she's under even more scrutiny

22:17 could this be something to do with pyro? i know the obvious reason is overtiredness but pyro also was doing that….

23:31 why are we covering for ash………………. also "did you eat something spoiled" or POISONED???

ok i think i got everything. this episode was HEAVY on the analysis asjhdskhf

[princessofgotham777]

Dating Jason Todd (Part Twelve)

fanfic type: angst, fluff, comfort (ongoing)

If you liked the Titans show but wish they handled Jason’s story line differently you might like this fic!

Hey so this is in fact my first time writing fanfiction (idk what my life has come to). Sorry if it’s cringy but also I would eat this up cause I LOVE some good angsty comfort fanfiction. I won’t write smut. I don’t think I’m gonna do requests but if you have any ideas feel free to let me know. Also of course I don’t own any DC characters this is purely fanfiction. Thank you and I hope you enjoy. (I hope you like run-on sentences💀) (if you don’t like it don’t be rude just move on dude😃🧍‍♀️)

So story line, this doesn’t really take place in any specific universe but I’m gonna be pulling concepts from Titans, Arkham Knight, The Batman, Under the Red Hood, and whatever lore I remember from the CW shows cause I grew up watching those, then just my imagination of course. Reader is referred to as she/her btw.

Warnings: talking about death, suicide, depression, torture (it’s not graphic I hate gore it’s just sad), talking about intimacy (not graphic), struggling with eating, topics of grief, violence, panic attacks, PTSD, brief talking about rape (reader recalls a time she helped Catwoman kill a rapist)

Part Twelve: Prince of Gotham

You’d fallen asleep rather peacefully. If only the dream you found yourself in was equally as peaceful. You were back in the abandoned wing of Arkham, holding Jason.

“Please…I’m not ready to die,” he cried. The bloody “J” engraved on his face was wet with tears.

“I’m sorry,” you cried.

“Please Y/N, please help me,” he cried. You closed your eyes and rocked back and forth as he died in your arms. You opened them and were faced with his lifeless corpse. You screamed in horror.

Dick shakes you awake as he says, “Y/N! Y/N!” You begin hyperventilating. “Hey it’s okay, it’s okay,” he says as he sits with you. You calm down but he still wears a grave look.

“What is it?” You ask.

“The notes, Chicago police found new Joker notes here,” he says.

“Shit,” you say as you jump out of bed.

“There’s something else,” he says.

“What?” You ask.

“The note was signed by Joker…and Poison Ivy,” he says. Your face goes pale with shock.

“I thought she was locked up,” you say.

“She got out,” he says. You close your eyes trying not to cry.

“Right so what’s the plan then?” You ask in a defeated tone.

“We’re gonna go back to Gotham, to stay at the manor. At least there we can all work together,” he says.

“Okay,” you say meekly. You then notice Dick is fully dressed; not in pajamas. You throw on Jason’s leather jacket and grab your bag. He and you then get in his silver Porsche and head back to Gotham City.

When you get to the manor it’s like a living nightmare. Thea and Roy had to go back to Star city to help Oliver deal with Damien Dark. So it was just the titans, Donna, Bruce and Alfred; and they were all in mission mode. You all gathered in the batcave to discuss the note. It said, “even though the bird is dead, there will be more dread, once the kitten is taken, bonds will be broken, know that I’m not joking.”

“Doesn’t Poison Ivy hate the Joker?” Donna says.

“She does,” a voice you don’t recognize says. Out from the shadows of the batcave comes a short slim woman wearing leather pants and a form fitting leather coat. It’s Selina Kyle, Catwoman.

“Selina?” Bruce says surprised. “How did you-“ he begins to say.

“Relax honey, I come in peace,” she says calmly. “I’m just delivering a little message for Ivy; she wanted me to drop by and say she had nothing to do with Jokers little note.”

“Why would we believe her,” you say.

“Believe what you want Y/N, just remember she’s not the one who put Jason in the ground,” she says as she walks up the stairs.

“Right I’ll talk with her later for now focus on the note,” Bruce says. How you hated him ordering everyone around.

“When Y/N first started out the media thought she was Catwoman then they figured out she wasn’t so they called her “the mystery archer”,” Dick says.

“Original,” Gar says.

“So Y/N is the kitten in the note since the media sees her as a second Catwoman of sorts,” Kori says.

“Right and Jason is the Robin he’s talking about,” Donna says.

“Basically he’s gonna try to kidnap Y/N,” Rachel says. Your head feels fuzzy, you can’t listen anymore. You quietly slip out of the room, you were beginning to remember your talent for disappearing.

Upstairs you find Selina in the parlor.

“What are you really doing here?” You ask her.

“Maybe I’m just worried about my protege,” she says with a smirk.

“We went out once together years ago, you barely even taught me anything,” you say.

“Wrong, I taught you how to disappear. And if you’re smart you’ll go hide somewhere Joker won’t think to look. This stupid house can’t protect you and you know it; plus I can see it in your eyes that everyone’s driving you crazy,” she says.

“Why do you care Selina?” You ask.

“You know I’ve never been one to stick to one side, I work with Harley and Ivy but that doesn’t mean I agree with everything they do,” she says. “Plus replacement Robin actually got things done, he wasn’t afraid of a little blood; so I just came to give some friendly advice.”

“Thank you,” you say softly.

“I would say you can come to my place but I don’t think you want to risk a reunion with Ivy,” she says.

“Yeah I’m good,” you say. “I know a spot and sorry if when I go missing they think you kidnapped me.”

“Don’t worry about it, stay safe little cat,” she says. You and Selina had met a few times in the past. Once you helped her take down a couple of guys who raped one of her friends. And by take down, you mean you helped her hide the bodies. Batman never found out you did that, he wouldn’t approve. Dick and Thea don’t even know; only Jason knew. You aren’t ashamed of your part in their death, those guys had it coming. You just didn’t want Dick or Thea to see you differently. You didn’t exactly tell Jason, he found out back when he was Robin. You were worried he’d tell Bruce but he simply said if there’s ever a next time he’ll help you.

You quickly grabbed your bag and headed to the garage; not the one attached to the batcave, the one attached to Wayne manor. You’d been on Jason’s motorcycle many times and he taught you how to drive it. This wasn’t the exact one you learned to drive but it would have to do. You got on the bike and headed to your destination, Iceberg Lounge.

Two days since you left Wayne Manor.

The Iceberg Lounge: top floor consisting of partying the violence and pain of living in Gotham away and the basement consisting of the minds that create all the violence and pain in Gotham discussing their next move. You heard the club was under new management and Penguin was missing. You figured the last place Joker would look for you is at the most infamous nightclub in Gotham; and if all else failed you could always just blend into the crowd. You changed in a near by alley, your outfit now consisting of a black mini skirt and lace black strapless top. With the set you wore your fighting boots in case you needed to make a quick get away. You stashed your bag in a vent and then let the crowd swallow you.

The blaring techno music made your head pound. You’d been to the Iceberg before many times with Thea; dispite Oliver’s warnings and pleas for you two to stay away from Penguin’s territory. Looking around the room you saw people dancing in pure bliss. Some were high on snakebite; others high on the music. You knew in your heart no drug or song could mend the wound Jason’s loss has created in your heart. Regardless of your acknowledgement that nothing could take the pain away, you dance.

The music is so loud you can feel the waves of vibration floating through your body. You feel a faint vibration from your boot pocket. You quickly check and it’s Dick calling you, you ignore it. He’s called you about one hundred times the past few days and so have Rachel, Thea, Kori and Gar. After you stand all the way back up you notice someone watching you from the balcony above the dance floor. He’s wearing a suit and a red mask covers half his face. His eyes are hidden behind tinted red lenses, he’s unrecognizable. Fear washes over you at the thought he could be one of Jokers guys. You dance further into the club to better use the crowd as coverage. You had never been this deep in the club before but you’d heard some pretty fucked up things were known to happen. People overdosing on snakebite, people going missing, deals happening; the iceberg had all the crime in Gotham packed into one nightclub.

You’d officially lost track of time, you weren’t sure how long you’d been relying on the people dancing around you to hold your tired body up. You knew as soon as you left the crowd you’d drop. You climbed the stairs to the balcony that wrapped around the inside of the club. Your boots banged against the metal floor as you walked past people doing snakebite and making out. You leaned against the wall and sank to the floor.

You passed out but were only asleep for a few minutes. You felt someone’s cold hand shaking your arm trying to wake you. You opened your eyes and saw the man with the red mask. He pulls you off the ground, you’re so out of it you barely register what’s going on. You try to throw yourself away from him but you fail.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” the robotic voice says.

“I’m supposed to believe that,” you say out of breath. You pass out and he gently catches you.

When you wake up you’re in Penguins old office. You take note of the fact that you’re not restrained, a good sign.

“Who the fuck are you?” You say coughing. He doesn’t answer, he simply opens a bottle of water and hands it to you. “I have a boyfriend by the way, I’ll stab your fucking eyes out if you try anything,” you say.

“What’s your boyfriend’s name?” the man asks.

You are quiet for a moment, not out of hesitation, out of sadness. “Jason,” you say. You become more awake. The lighting in here is better than the actual club and you notice a white streak in the man’s hair. You mentally go through every criminal, anti-hero and hero you’ve met but you still don’t know who he is. “Why are you helping me?” You ask him. He says nothing. “Why were you watching me?” You ask.

“You should be more careful, this place is dangerous,” he says.

“I can take care of myself,” you say.

“So where is your boyfriend anyway?” He asks.

You don’t know what to say, the answer of course is that Jason is dead but you know you shouldn’t be truthful. “He’s on his way to pick me up,” you say as you start walking towards the door. He grabs your arm, not harshly just enough so you stop walking away. Standing so close to him you swear he’s familiar. He simply stares at you for a moment. You wish you could see his eyes then maybe you could tell who he is. He lets you go and you hurry away back into the crowd.

Hey, I hope you enjoyed the fic if you did please like. If you want to keep up to date with the series please follow me. Any positive feedback is much appreciated, it encourages me to keep writing and posting parts. I have a lot more ideas to develop the Redhood plot and then also I have another fic idea that would be a prequel to this (it will be how reader meets Jason and Dick and becomes a titan). Then I also have another idea for a reader x Jason story which would be separate from this one. If any of that sounds interesting please check out my Masterlist and follow me🩷

Here’s a link to my Masterlist if you want to check it out.

Masterlist

[shoutoutout]

I've started up another Harlivy fic and was digging through my docs and found this old version of the noses & kneecaps section of she breaks (out, down, through). I cut it way down and changed up the setting for the published version but this Harley quote had me giggling so I thought I'd post here for folks!

Harley turns to the chef.  “If you fucking spit in this food I will literally gut you right now, you hear me?  I’m not letting my bestie eat any of your loogies so tell me if you did because she’ll fucking know, alright?  This bitch will taste them and then you’ll be dead and the misses and junior over there are gonna have a sad as shit Christmas this year.”

You can read the rest under the cut

Surprising no one, Ivy’s not that great at the whole “friendship” thing.

For starters, she has no frame of reference by which to judge.  Like her namesake, she was a wallflower as a child and when high school rolled around she bloomed into a sarcastic loner with Indigo Girls blasting through her headphones.  It left little room for normal girl shit like… well… she would name something if she knew.

But even still, with all her lack of experience, she’s pretty sure that this—Harley’s idea of friendship—is not quite normal.

“I could use some new threads.” Harley calls Ivy out of the blue on a Wednesday evening.  “Cops confiscated all the stuff back at my old place… not like I’d wear any of it anymore.  God, I was such a tightass wasn’t I, Ives?  So how about it?  A girl’s day out?”

Ivy doesn’t know what to say, knuckles pale green where they grip the phone.  She regrets giving Harley her number.  (And by “giving” she means Harley snatching the phone from her pocket and calling herself before Ivy had the chance to stop her.)  The thought of strolling through a department store with Harley causes her anxiety to ratchet the way it did when the pretty girls would laugh at her in English class.  What would they even talk about for fuck’s sake?

Not much to start, it turns out.  Harley’s version of shopping is a lot less mundane and a lot more criminal.  They end up taking twelve hostages in Bergsduff’s and leaving with two hundred thousand in designer goods.  Muzak plays idly in the background as Harley holds the salesclerk at gunpoint, parading him around the floor while Ivy snatches up some cute summer looks.  His nose drips blood from where she pistol-whipped him upon entrance.

“Hey, try those on,” Harley suggests, waving the gun wildly towards a pair of gold-rimmed sunglasses.  The hostages in her line of fire duck and scramble when it points in their direction.  “Those’ll look real hot on you!  Perfect for your face shape.”

Even the sales clerks—with the barrel of Harley’s gun poking between his shoulder blades—can’t help but agree.

Ivy slips them into her pocket.

They go to dinner.

“And it better be fucking vegan, alright?!” Harley screeches through the kitchen door.  When she turns back to Ivy, she’s all grins and bubbles.  “He said it should be right out!” she relays, skipping back towards the table.

Ivy glances towards the chef’s wife and son where they lay bound and gagged, piled in the living room corner.  Harley had arranged a “private meal” by Gotham’s hottest new chef after Ivy had told her the reservations for his restaurant were usually booked a month in advance.

“Are you sure we don’t have to worry about them?” Ivy asks with a skeptical slant towards their hostages?

“Nah,” Harley dismisses.  “They’re chill.”

Their captive hosts nod in agreement, wide-eyed and terrified.

They talk about boys.

“So like I was saying,” Harley picks up where she left off, twirling a fork between two fingers.  “Joker has some real ripe areas for improvement with the overall rollout of his new brand vision before the Legion of Doom induction, ya know?  Just some things I’m helpin’ him out with… order of operations and stuff like that.”

Ivy’s thankful Harley’s doing all the talking.  She fills the space with an endless stream of stray observations and chatter.

She gets a dreamy look in her eye, resting her head against her palm.  “I mean, he’s a real genius, ya know?  It’s pure art what he does.”  (Ivy wants to vomit but the food is coming soon.)  “And don’t ever tell him I said otherwise”—she sits up, clasping her hands together—“but in general, there’s a lack of foresight to some of his schemes.  Like escape plans, for example.  Usually he has it all figured out when Batsy arrives—how to get away that is—but not for the whole crew, ya know?”

Ivy narrows, not quite getting at what she’s saying.

Harley shimmies closer in her chair, propping her elbows on the table.  “Okay, okay, so like, there’ll be a getaway car, right?  But it’s one of those clown cars, like a tiny one.  Only this clown car isn’t like a clown car where it can fit all the rest of us; it’ll just fit him.”  She pauses to let Ivy consider.  “Is that… is that funny?  Like ha-ha Joker-level theatrics?”

Ivy’s dumbfounded.  “A clown car that’s just a regular tiny car…that only Joker can escape in… and he leaves you all behind to get caught,” she summarizes, doubt dripping from her tongue.  “So you’re telling me he just like, takes off in a Smart car?”

“Yes!” Harley nods, excitedly.  Her jester’s cap bounces with the motion.  “Exactly!  Just a Smart car for one.  It could use some work, right?”

Ivy doesn’t even know where to begin.  Luckily the chef returns, placing two gorgeous plates of food before them.  Harley squeals beside her and Ivy snaps to attention, grabbing her fork.  It smells fucking heavenly as it comes to her mouth but then Harley’s hand is strong around her wrist, stopping her mid-bite.

Harley turns to the chef.  “If you fucking spit in this food I will literally gut you right now, you hear me?  I’m not letting my bestie eat any of your loogies so tell me if you did because she’ll fucking know, alright?  This bitch will taste them and then you’ll be dead and the misses and junior over there are gonna have a sad as shit Christmas this year.”

He shakes his head and whimpers; Harley seems satisfied.  They dig in.

“Oh my god,” Ivy says, flavor dancing across her taste buds.  “This is like… orgasmic.”

Harley preens.  “Only the best for my friend!”

Friend.  It rolls so easily off of Harley’s tongue and Ivy wonders what it is exactly that makes this shit so hard for her.  Ivy tries to play along but she’s transported back to English class with Melinda Jenkins snickering every time Ivy raised her hand.  “Ha,” she tries.  “I owe ya one… pal.”

God, she’s a fucking dork but Harley couldn’t care less.  She pounces.  “Come to me and J’s Legion of Doom induction then?!” she asks like the question was burning a hole through her tongue.  “It’s this weekend.  We can drink all of Lex’s fancy-ass champagne.  Please?  Please?  Please, Ivy?”

Harley puppy-dog pouts and Ivy’s stomach flips.  Is this normal friend shit?  She has no idea.

“I’m sorry but fuck no.  No way.  Literally anything but that.”  Harley will just have to deal; Ivy is decidedly not a good friend.

[lily-radiance]

Random fic headcanons and ideas:

TWD season two Daryl Dixon with an S/O who's in trouble

Both loners

MC is not from Georgia

Early 20s MC dating mid-30s Daryl

She knows how to shoot archery bows but not crossbows

Touch-starved

Andrea considers MC like another younger sibling

Everyone advises Daryl not to go for you and vice versa

When Rick, Hershel, and Glenn go to the bar, MC accompanies them. Daryl only goes when Lori tells him that you are in danger.

Carol gives him advice

Andrea and Lori warn him if he breaks your heart, he's a dead man.

RE4 Leon with a high school best friend who became an Umbrella Scientist.

MC was initially training for the force with Leon but dropped out to find another passion

She wants to help people but gets pulled into Umbrella’s dark research

Leon caught a glimpse of her at the end of RE2 but couldn't be sure if it was her.

Ashley doesn't trust MC, but Leon ignores it

Both have combat experience and have undergone physical conditioning

MC does not have Las Plagas

Krauser spars with MC, causing Leon to jump in.

Krauser asks Leon to choose between you and Ashley.

IDK if Leon would be sweet here or a Yandere.

Arkham Movie Trilogy Jonathan Crane, Harley Quinn, and Poison Ivy x Psychiatrist reader

This story is currently in progress!!!

Reader works at Arkham Asylum

Friends with Bruce Wayne

Knows about his alter ego and occasionally helps him solve cases

Reader believes Bruce should do more with his money to benefit Gotham

Combines Heath Ledger’s Joker with Margot Robbie’s Harley Quinn

The reader was in the same major as Harley in college, and the two dated briefly

Harley constantly teases the reader when she catches wind of a new crush

You try to ignore her, but eventually can't as she warns you that the doctor is deadlier than he lets on

You brush it off, too fond of your coworker to accept the notion that he can hurt you

Bruce doesn't like your new counterpart, picking up a destructive energy that screams guilty

In defiance, you decide to bring your beaux to one of many parties and get on your friend’s last nerve.

A kiss is shared in front of the crowd, some murmuring complaints while others smile. You wish to stay in Jonathan’s arms, but the moment is interrupted as Bruce pulls you aside

Naturally, two upper-class socialites fighting in front of an audience calls for bad publicity, but not on your part

“If you keep this up, you'll become a sewer rat criminal just like the rest!”

Luckily, you decided to wear a few rings to accentuate your outfit. Not only do you look stunning, but you reel back and land a brutal slap on his cheek. Yet that doesn't hurt as much as your following words.

“How dare you, Bruce. How dare you scrutinize what you can never understand. Thomas and Martha would be ashamed of you, and you, of all people, know they were difficult to rattle. Next time you need anything, ask someone who gives a shit.”

Your friend has to watch in shock as you exit the home, arm linked with a man he despises. Even in disagreeable situations, you manage to exhibit grace and elegance. It's the beginning of a new era and the opportunity to forget the complex life of the wealthy.

“Is your hand alright, (Y/N)? Better yet, are you okay?”

Never underestimate a psychiatrist to get into your head. He walks you to the car, watching your lips tremble in the darkness. You meet his stare, and one thought crosses your mind: kissing him sounds lovely. The doctor is efficient at picking up social cues, leaning down to meet your lips, and extinguishing the frigid temperature.

“As long as I'm with you, Jonathan. I can do anything with you by my side, no matter the risks.”

I want to make the reader an anti-hero vigilante with the “Grim Reaper” theme. Supernatural powers in Batman don't really occur so I will brainstorm. Most villains are the work of genetic experiments gone wrong so maybe I'll work with that?

JD(Heathers 1989) dating the reader

You are friends with Veronica and the despicable Heathers

Instead of going along with their charades, you often argue and challenge Heather Chandler

She constantly threatens your social standing but knows that the campus would easily choose you over her.

Purple color coded

JD can't help but admire your tenacity as you begrudgingly follow Veronica to the table, attempting to stop the girl from doing Heather’s bidding.

When you walk over, he seems uninterested in the girl speaking to him, instead transfixed on your disinterested attitude. Unknowingly, you lick your lips, tasting lip gloss and wiping some glitter away. When you lock eyes, you swear your heart stops beating, drawn to his carefree attitude.

Veronica says a few words to you, trying to convince you to let her administer the lunch poll

As she talks, you playfully roll your eyes, causing the delinquent to smirk in your direction. He hides a chuckle from breaking out, finding your careless joking funny given the circumstances. When Veronica walks off, it allows you to sit across from the newcomer, albeit a little too eagerly.

“Mind if I ask for a smoke? I'm dying from boredom.”

“Sure, I could never say no to a girl like you. I’m guessing you’ve been trying to break from those devils all day.”

He lights your cigarette as you take it between your teeth, enjoying the visual more than he lets on.

“It's all thanks to you, my knight in obsidian armor.”

[mngo-jii]

“ CAMPUS CRUSH ” d. page

wc: 1.8k ++ gn reader ++ they/them pronouns ++ apparently MC is canonically charming. i did what i had to do w/ this info

"[MC] is so lovely. Don't you think?" Ivy muses as she bids you goodbye.

"Huh?" Daniel eyes her with a puzzled look, before shrugging indifferently. "Well... I suppose."

She turns to him, a confused look on her face.

"Why? You don't think they're lovely?" She tilts her head.

"What?"—the sudden query causes him to tense up, and he awkwardly looks away, scratching his cheek.

"I didn't say that..."

A muggle-born—seemingly just there as if destined to help your friends with their rather messed up backgrounds in comparison to your little-known one.

In spite of this, Daniel was aware that you weren't as commonplace as you appeared to be. It's undoubtedly beyond the powers of an ordinary young wix to so easily overwhelm dark wizards that they're forced to flee.

And that's only one of the things that makes you a touch... outlandish to him, despite how much more bizarre your other friends seem to be.

...However, other than your excellent skills in wizardry, Daniel was also well aware of the effect you had on people.

It swirls from even way back during your first year—who would have thought an eleven-year old like you could charm people just like that? And by people, that also includes your superiors, apparently.

That very instance of when he had tried to explore the Forbidden Forest in search for an ingredient—only to, alas, be caught by Hagrid himself.

"Uh...then, it'd be okay if you went with us?" Daniel cringed inwardly, hoping that his little attempt would work even to some small degree.

Hagrid does stammer a bit—at least that's what Daniel accomplished.

"Hang on, that's not what I was sayin'. It's true, o'course. but I were tryin' to warn you and—"

"—And keep us safe, right?" You quickly interrupt, eyes practically shimmering as you tilted forward with an innocent grin. "That's so thoughtful, Hagrid! So- you'll come with us then?"

Your sudden intrusion to maneuver the situation brings Daniel's eyebrows to raise, though even further more after Hagrid's response:

"Oh. Well..." The half-giant hesitantly scratches through his thick mane-esque hair. "Only because I need to check on somethin' myself. Suppose a quick look couldn't hurt."

Not only just your first year, no, no—but preeminently your first day.

"I don't want detention. Just leave me out of it." Daniel crosses his arms, frowning at the three of you.

Naturally, it was logical at the time—to be wandering around the castle at the dead of night, in search of a girl you barely knew was absolutely nonsensical to him.

Getting in trouble in the first day is the least Daniel needs right now, and to think you, his housemate, insists on coming along is beyond him. Are you trying to mitigate your house points?

Just his luck, said housemate steps forward towards the blonde Gryffindor—"What about you, Kevin? Are you with us?"

"We could definitely use someone as clever as you to help find Ivy." You beam—as opposed to Daniel's lour.

"Oh! Oh… Thanks for the compliment, I-I think," Kevin scratches his chin and clumsily pushes his glasses. "I suppose I could give it a go…"

Robyn cackles, and Daniel's lips part in disbelief.

At that moment, he would've had to squint to be able to foresee the spark you'd light up in people. The spark you'd light up in him.

"You know, you've changed drastically since the first year."

Daniel's eyebrows raise at you, expression turning to one of interest. "What... What do you mean?"

He tilts head to one side. Then he grins amusedly, his head remaining in that tilt.

"I have? How?"

You put your finger to your chin. "Well... You were a bit dismissive when we first befriended you, and you refused to help us find Ivy on the first day because you were worried we'd get caught and all. You were more on the serious and awkward side, you know? And now you're more than willing to break a rule or two for the benefit of your friends… or yourself." You grinned back.

Daniel turns to one of embarrassment as you note his past behavior, though it's a warm embarrassment... He's glad that he's made that sort of progress, somewhat.

He clears his throat, turning slightly pink.

"I guess I've grown more since then, huh?" He lets out a breathy laugh, turning back to you—and you swore something twinkled in his eyes.

"I can't believe that I let something like the threat of getting caught stop me. I guess all the crazy stuff that's happened... It changed me, a bit."

No. It did. Maybe, yes.

But truthfully, beneath your palms that kissed each other, and your fingers that intertwined with one another—you're the one who changed him.

Would he have been able to foretell the way he was going to change over the years? If he hadn't been so dismissive at first, could he have altered earlier? Had more friends earlier? You saved him, somewhat. And he felt like Merlin had blessed him upon the very moment you two finally became proper friends.

How did you do it?—he'd ask you. And it feels a bit silly to ask how you became friends with him. But it was such a pondering thought that stumped him for majority of the first year. After all, he had insisted you to not sit with him on the train simply because "no one wanted to."

Yet you answer with—I just did—with a smile so kind he would have almost understood your answer.

Almost.

But it was as clear as day to him, that from the very start, you wanted to sit next to him. You weren't just "no one."

What he didn't know, was that he'd be bewitched by your charms himself. And just his luck, he didn't know how to respond to this revelation either.

He felt as though he had fell down a rabbit hole, one where it had pictures of your face plastered upon its walls. And said rabbit hole eats him, chews him up, and spits him out. Making him stumble to the ground with a loud groan.

When he opens his eyes, he sees a hand. Then he looks up and realizes its your hand, looks up to see your face—with the same smile you flashed him back when you were eleven years old, right by the cauldron shop at Diagon Alley.

Ridiculous, he told himself.

But he took your hand anyway, and flashed you a dopey grin back.

Before this all, he sort of had a grasp of it. Like, yes, you're attractive. And while you weren't necessarily popular, you were quite well-known.

Not because you were good-looking and were skilled in dueling just like Cassandra; not because you were nothing more than a troublemaker who apparently reeks like the Frey twins; certainly not because you were a "bloody [Last Name]" just like he was—but merely because you were kind. And you remained as nice as pie throughout all these years, and he prays you'll continue to do so.

But Daniel thought, was that all it took to be liked?

He was different from you in that he had rather, well, deplorable social skills. He wasn't rude, not unfriendly. He was a good boy. But he certainly wasn't sociable enough to be liked like you were.

He thought it was a bit ridiculous. At one point he was convinced you had gulped down on an everlasting beautification potion, or you had cast a specific charm on those nearby—though of course it was just by jest.

He just doesn't understand. Can't grasp the truth of how you could cause such an effect on some people—whether platonically or romantically.

It's one thing to be kind, though. Daniel knows a lot of kind people—Lottie is kind, Ivy is kind. But they don't charm people the way you do. So what exactly about you was so special?

Well, you did manage to befriend him years ago in the first year when he was just a wee bairn, who hated any form of attention shining on him. Maybe that's something. But he wasn't that effected. A lie.

Of course your loveliness didn't have an unrealistic, comical effect on people—but it was still pretty impressive, and rather amusing to watch how some people just give in to you by asking nicely.

Though you hadn't quite got to him, personally, merely because he doesn't get it entirely.

At least that's what he liked to tell himself.

Until one fateful day, you're asked which one of your friends was your best friend. Which one knew you better? Who was your favorite?

And several eyes shot up to you, full of what looks like thinly veiled hope, anticipation, trapped by a somewhat menacing aura accompanied by the painful silence—waiting for your voice to cut through it.

You nervously giggled, waving your hands in dismissal with a sheepish grin. "Personally, I'm close with everyone! I'd say Ivy and Daniel do know me better, but I don't have a favorite, necessarily..."

And everyone decides to unpluck the fish hook they just stabbed in your cheek to move on to the next.

Daniel watches as you sigh in relief, and you meet his staring eyes—causing the boy to jolt slightly.

But you give him a grin and lean towards him, beckoning him to move closer to your shielding palm. And he does.

"Dont tell anyone this, but, you're my favorite."

And oh, oh. He finally gets it. He fully gets it. And he gets more than what was needed.

Now he gets why you're the type of person that people linger around the area for. Now he understands that one boy who so desperately tries to impress you in Quidditch—who points to you with a wink before shooting.

And now he understands the slight warmth blossoming on his cheeks whenever you were too near—understands how his heart seemed to gradually beat faster around you as the years went by.

And Daniel wonders if he's still your favorite when another guy tries to court you.

...And he cheekily smiles to himself as you awkwardly reject the bouquet of flowers.

Yes, he's still your favorite.

But he still wonders, and wonders, and wonders.

Do you feel the same way he does?

Do you mirror the same flushed and frustrated look on his face on nights he can't sleep because of you?

Do you ever stare out the classroom window thinking about him?

Ever stop to stare at the cauldron beneath your chin because the potion had changed into his favorite color for barely a split second, like he does to you??

And when Robyn gently smacks her broom against the top of his head—he decides it'll be best to find out once Quidditch class is over.

So he turns away, begrudgingly following Robyn up in the air as he tries his best to let the wind mute down Robyn's queries.

—unaware of the lingering gaze you cast him when he does.

[mikakuna]

remembering that one time I came across some absolutely stunning poison ivy powered Jason art. and I was like oOh tell me MORE!

except more turned out to be a jaytim au which had me backing up, it’s just not my thing like genuinely I think Jason would never. Also Tim pisses me off 😭

but the Jason being poison ivy’d stuck with me cause I would like to give this baby girl all the parental figures.

he’s got Willis. he’s got Catherine. Nocturna. Talia. Ducra.

(Bruce. Who he loves despite it all? Sheila, who he also loved and tried to save despite it all? Ma Gunn, who is his grandma??)

Harvey, who I laugh bc I love the idea of Harvey being like “yeah okay FINE I guess this is my kid now” and Jason is like “this is Harvey my…work associate. Occasional uncle figure I GUESS”

But poison Ivy???? HELL YEAH. Harley wearing one of those “I’m not the step dad I’m the dad that stepped up” shirts and she’s crosses out dad in marker and wrote “parent”

can’t escape the thought of poison Ivy—like having occasionally run into Jason on the streets. Then as Robin. And then he’s dead, and she grieves. and then the UtRH thing happens and like, idk where she’s supposed to be when that goes down but for the sake of this, let’s say Arkham? And Jason dies again at the end of that warehouse scene excerpt no one knows for SURE right, cause Batman took joker and left.

But joker at Arkham laughs abt how the birdy died again. Batman slitting his sons throat to save HIM. Ivy overhears and rages and grieves all over again.

Only Jason is alive?? Ivy runs into him when he’s injured somehow on the verge of dying again and like, she doesn’t KNOW he can just come back? So she uses a small dose of her serum on him, and before she could administer more he wakes.

Jason with the ground talking to him constantly. Gotham always whispered in his ears but now her dirt and trees and daisies and weeds call to him too.

It’s a small scale of ivy’s powers. He can’t do what she can. But he can communicate with her via the Green. He can hear her call to him. 

-welcometothehouseofhades

(Id switch off anon but then it’d be from my main lolll)

i took too long to reply to this babe but OMGGG YES

i loveeeee ivy and her being another one of jason's parents is perf!!!! jason and his badass mother figures is top notch and not explored enough guys. LOLLL i love your harvey bit because it's so so true omg-- they are reluctant parent child !!!

just the idea of jason collecting gotham rogues as his parent figures and/or estranged aunts/uncles is one of my favourites because jason deserves to have parental adults in his life who hate batman. ivy being such a misunderstood rogue who ultimately just wanted to help the planet makes it so much better for jason.

your note about timjay is too real. a big part why i cant stand them is because jason is turned into this big scary dominant top so tim can be the baby in the relationship. hugeee turn off for me as both a bottom jason enjoyer and an extremely emotional but competent jason enjoyer

also i don't know if you already read this fic but i'll link it since it follows really closely to your premise about ivy finding out jason died!

[a1307s]

Flickers of Green #2

(Dick Grayson & Jason Todd)

[Art is not mine! Credit to fish-goat]

Requested by: quirkyshortdumbo11

Keys:

Y/N: Your Name

Word Count: 6,214

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Cursing

Mentions of Death

———————————————————————

I walk out of the abandoned building, the sounds of my gunshot and the now-dead drug lord's screaming still ringing in my head.

Nowadays it seems that these sounds comfort me more than Bruce ever could. Fucking Bruce. I hate him. I hate Batman. I hate the Joker. I hate myself for letting Y/N die. For dragging her to her death. For not being able to save her. For me being the one that's alive.

I can't let guilt cloud my mind right now. It's hard to kill someone as you're feeling guilty for causing the death of someone else. I need something to clear my head, something to reset myself. Coffee should help, it always did when I was originally alive.

I glance around, trying to get my wits together and figure out where the nearest coffee shop is. I tug my phone out of my jacket, taking a glance at the time. Nine thirty-two. Late but not too late, except for coffee. I don't know if anywhere with a decent cup of Joe will be open. I don't need that watered-down bean soup shit they serve at gas stations.

Pamela's cafe will be open. They're always open. I don't want to go there though. The last thing I need is more memories of Y/N.

I do a quick Google search, hoping to find any other cafe open, but I don't. I don't need coffee, but I do need something to eat and a donut sounds so good right now. I can't even remember what a donut tastes like. I'll just have to eat my feelings alongside the donut then.

I pull up Google Maps, glancing over it quickly before heading towards the cafe. The plus side of Pamela's is that the staff is pretty chill with anything; heroes, villains, and citizens alike.

It seems that in the past couple of years, the girls on staff have been adopted by some of the villains. I see Ivy, Scarecrow, and Harley coming and going from there a lot.

When I was at the Iceberg Lounge - aka Penguin's bar, strip club, and not-so-underground business - he mentioned that he "keeps up" on the girls and pays some of their tuition. He also mentioned there's a new girl that started a couple of months ago and that she's "a feisty little one that doesn't fear shit". That coming from Penguin is a bit of an honor. Not many people can get a compliment like that from him.

Maybe I'll meet this feisty new girl tonight. Maybe I'll take her home. I could use the distraction. However, I don't usually end up doing anything with them when I do get them home. I usually just lose my shit cause it's not the same as it was with Y/N.

I switch between being mad and being indifferent about being unable to move on from her. She died only ever loving me, why can't I live only ever loving her?

The neon lights of the cafe cut into my line of sight along with cutting through my thoughts. I forgot how obnoxious all the neon was. Standing right outside the cafe is Penguin and a young girl. She's in the 50s dinner uniform Pamela's staff wears. She's also wrapped up in a fancy-looking coat.

I feel half bad for the girl. If she's working at a cafe, she can't afford a coat like that, which means it's from the Penguin. It's never good for anyone - much less a young girl - to be in debt to Penguin.

My pace slows as I approach them. "Come on Feisty, just let me pay for your courses. Then you wouldn't have to work so much."

"No, I'm good. I don't mind supporting myself." The girl's voice is soft but firm as she speaks. Maybe she isn't as stupid as I thought.

"Listen here you little bitch-"

"No, you listen here you fucking flightless bird," the girl yells back, causing a bit of laughter to brew in my chest. "I already told you I don't want your money and unlike most of the other girls, I don't owe you shit so back off."

"And if I don't?" He asks, starting to turn the head on his cane. Under the head is usually a knife that Penguin is known to use on people when he doesn't get his way.

The girl yanks the cane away before any damage can be done, causing shock in both the bird and me. "If you don't I'll stab you to death with your own cane. Go back to your dumb pimp square." Penguin stands there for a second, just staring at the girl before he walks away mumbling to himself. His wobble is more present than usual now that he doesn't have his cane to support him. The club owner wasn't kidding about this girl not being scared of anything, or at least she was good at pretending.

Now that the fat man isn't in the way, I'm able to see the girl he was talking to. As my eyes scan over her my mind both empties and explodes. Standing in the neon lights is the spitting image of Y/N, which is impossible... because she's dead.

Or is it? I'm technically dead and yet here I am. But if she was alive, she would have looked for me, right? Like I did for her? She would at least be at the manor, right? Bruce would take her back in or at the very least Dick would... right? Or maybe she didn't want to go back to them. Maybe she's mad at them too.

Y/N - I think it's her - turns on her heels, heading down the road. I need to follow her. If she is my Y/N I need to know. I need to be a hundred percent certain. At the very least, if it's not Y/N I should still watch the girl get home safe after she disagreed with Penguin.

What if it's not Y/N? What if it is? What if this is a trap? Is Al Ghul fucking with my head again? Did he set this up to trap me back within the League? Even if he did, I need to know what's going on. Just in case it is a trap, I stay hidden. I'll have the element of surprise if shit does go south.

I follow this girl, not paying much attention to where she's going but making sure to keep pace with her. If it is my Y/N I can't lose her again from careless mistakes.

My mind runs a mile a minute as I trail her. I need answers, I need to hold her, I need her to be Y/N.

Maybe-Y/N turns, making my heart race. Fear of losing her around the corner mixes with the joy of a split second of light enveloping her.

I catch a glimpse behind her ear. When we were twelve, right before Bruce took us in, we thought it would be a good idea to give each other stick-and-poke tattoos. We tattooed each other's names behind our ears. My name is there, behind her left ear, in my chicken scratch handwriting. It has to be her. There's no way Al Ghul could know about that. I don't even think Bruce knows about our matching tattoos.

My pace quicks as I slide around the corner after her. I need her. I need to tell her I'm here. I need - it's a trap.

Hands land on me, throwing me to my right. My boots slide against the gravel on the sidewalk, aiding in me losing my balance. I fall hard, harder than the Roman Empire.

On my way down, my helmet comes into contact with a trash can. The noise echoes within my disguise, promising to give me a headache.

"What the hell?" I bark, quickly getting back to my feet. I should have known this was too good to be true. I should have known it was a trap. I should have known to pay attention to my surroundings. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Once the sound rattling around my helmet quiets some I'm able to get a grip on my surroundings. Standing in front of me is Dick Grayson in his signature black and blue spandex suit. "Fucking Nightwing," I husk out, shaking my head to get the last of the echoes out.

"Hood," he answers, positioning himself for a throwdown.

From my last run-in with Bruce, it's evident he knows who I am. Despite his attempt to hide it, the Bat was throwing his punches. I'm guessing from the greeting that he didn't share his findings with Dick.

But fine, if a fight is what Nightwing wants, a fight is what he'll get. It shouldn't be difficult to get him down.

I cautiously walk toward him, preparing myself to swing. One easy hit. Just one to knock him down long enough for me to sneak off and find Y/N.

I swing at him, but he ducks. What a little shit. I don't want trouble, I just want to go find - he thinks I'm stalking her. Dick thinks I'm stalking Y/N. Does he know it's Y/N?

"Just move aside, Wing, it's not what you think," I call out louder than I meant to. I throw another punch, trying to get him down again. I don't have time for this. I don't have the want to explain who I am and who I'm chasing after.

Dick needs to get out of my way before I lose Y/N. I can't lose her again. I'd burn the Earth to a crisp before I let that happen.

My thoughts distract me, making me lag as Nightwing tries to sweep my feet out from under me. I almost managed to avoid it but do end up tripping a bit from my late reaction.

"You're a notorious killer chasing after a girl, what else am I supposed to think?" Grayson calls, his cocky attitude present in his words. Well, that answers my question; he doesn't know it's Y/N. Or who I am. Or maybe he does and doesn't want me to know that he's connected to her. I hate the hush-hush behaviors we both inherited from Bruce.

I stumble back, again causing my helmet to come into contact with more metal. I'm definitely going to have a piercing headache for the next couple of hours. Great.

As the object behind me catches my fall, my guns slide across it, reminding me of their presence. If he's not going to go down with physical force, a gunshot sure as hell will work.

Nightwing approaches me, pulling his weapon out from behind his back. He's mumbling, probably answering whoever is on the other end of his coms. Great, I'm going to have to go through Batman too to get to Y/N. If that's the case, so be it. Bruce's name is as good as carved into my bullets if that's what it takes to get Y/N back.

I take Nightwing's distraction as a chance to get the upper hand. Being the asshole I am, I sweep Nightwing's feet out from under him. It's what he deserves and quite good karma. He stumbles back, landing on his back a couple of steps ahead of me.

No time is wasted as I start closing the gap between us. My gun feels heavy in my hand as I pull it out. Richard made his own grave trying to get between Y/N and me again, but that doesn't mean I like laying him in it. I watch as he grabs for one of his sticks as I tower over him. He can try all he wants but it won't stop me; nothing will stop me. Y/N will be safe from him, from Bruce, from the life I dragged her into it.

I level the barrel to his head debating if I should just end it here. It would be quite the message to Batman. "Lady don't!" A young voice screams out.

I glance up to find who else is present but before I can my eyes lock on Y/N. She's rushed and flustered as she races towards me. Before I can stop her, she's shoving the gun up towards the sky. "Don't shoot!" She shouts, her words followed by the sound of the gun going off.

Fear flickers through me before my senses come in. Y/N isn't shot, she can't be, the gun is pointed too high.

She stands in front of me, anger rooted in her eyes as she looks at me. There are flickers of green mixed in with her normal eye color. I take in the rest of her, letting my mind go silent as I look her over. Y/N has a strand of grey mixed in her hair, just like me. She has to be alive because of the Laza pit. She has the same greying hair and recent green added to her eyes, just like me. Mine were caused because of the pit, so hers have to be because of it too, right? Is she suffering from the same side effects I did because of the pit?

"What the fuck is your problem, you daft cow?" Y/N yells, tugging the weapon from my hand before I can stop her. I have to stop myself from laughing at the situation. It's too much like it was when we were younger. Dick and me going toe-to-toe and Y/N swooping in to break us up once again.

"Don't stand there and look dumb at me. What do you think you're doing?" She repeats herself, her attention turning towards the gun.

I shift to point it down, so she doesn't accidentally shoot herself, but she beats me to it. The barrel is pointed at the open pavement between our feet as her hands work on disconnecting the bullets from the gun.

Y/N's fingers look smooth and soft as they work. I want to touch them. I want to hold them in my hands. I want to press kisses into them. I want to touch her. I want to know she's real.

"I..." I start, my mouth feels heavy and suddenly full of cotton. "Hi." The word sounds loud when it tumbles out.

"Hello," Y/N says back, her eyes sparkling. The color I've grown so used to comforts me despite the newly added flickers of green. She's so bright and here and alive.

Her focus stays on me for a beat longer as she hands me back my gun. Our fingers bumping into each other, sending shivers up my spine. She's alive.

I let the feeling envelop me as my eyes switch from her face to staying locked on the shitty tattoo behind her ear. My mind is on overtime, running through a million questions even as Y/N moves up and down in front of me. I can hear her voice as she talks to Dick but it's hard to focus on processing her words.

My eyes snap back up as Y/N stands. She whispers something, the words lost in her uncomfortableness. Am I making her upset? Is Dick? I glance around her to hopefully see what shifted her tone. Since being distracted, Bruce's new Robin has appeared in front of us. Is he making her upset?

Y/N starts walking away, causing panic about losing her to wash over me. Before I can stop myself, I reach out for her, my hand wrapping around her arm to stop her movements. "Let..." I start again, my mouth still feeling dry, and it gets drier as Y/N turns towards me. "Let me walk you home." The words come out quieter than I thought they would.

Her eyes harden as she looks at me and shakes me off of her. "What the fuck is with all you superheroes? Two days ago, I had a frantic Batman shoving hundred-dollar bills into my hand. You have been trailing me for three blocks, you-" So she knows I was behind her? Does she know it's me? Does she not remember Bruce is Batman? What does she remember?

I shake my head again, trying to Etch-A-Sketch the thoughts out of my head. I focus my attention back on Y/N. Her hands are on her hips, her right one popped out. I want to touch her again. I want to put my hands on her hips. I want to feel her between my fingers. I want to feel her warmth against me. I want-

My thoughts are cut off again when Dick starts touching her. "I... Y/N?" Dick says his tone as quiet as mine was. All the love-struck feelings wash out of me and are replaced with anger and jealousy. I don't want him touching her. I should be touching her. She's mine. She's always been mine. What the fuck does Dick think he's doing?

"Good guess," Y/N answers, her figure relaxing some. Does she remember that Grayson is Nightwing? Why does she remember that but not that Bruce is Batman? Does she like him touching her?

"Y/N?" He repeats, his face scrunched up in confusion. He needs to stop touching her before I lose my shit.

Almost as if Y/N can read my thoughts, she shrugs him off and starts walking away again. "That's my name, don't wear it out." Her tune is light and happy, making butterflies flap around my stomach. Nightwing and I stay frozen, watching her slip out of the alleyway before vanishing from our sight.

Dick's attention turns back towards me. His eyes are watery. Apparently, I'm not the only secret Bruce has been keeping from him, how in tune for the bat. "What's next? You going to end up being Jason Todd?" He asks, a sad laugh following. It tinges my heart, almost making me regret being willing to kill him a few minutes ago.

I hum a bit, turning towards the direction Y/N went in as I think about what I'm going to do. I start heading after her before changing my mind. I know she's alive and in town. That's all that matters. It'll be best for her if I back off, give her time to think over the event, and give Dick time to tattle to Bruce so I can see how they'll react. I glance at Nightwing behind me before opening my mouth again, "We both know that Y/N being alive isn't the only secret Bruce Wayne is hiding from the world."

I let the words hang behind me as I walk away. Waiting to go after Y/N also gives me time to think over what I'm going to do. If she doesn't remember parts of her life - if any of it - I don't need to scare her away by coming off too strong.

———————————

My heart jumps around as I walk up the path from the other day. The neon lights are still obnoxious as fuck, but I don't mind. Y/N will be there. I know she will. I've been watching her, keeping tabs on her, getting the hang of her schedule. I know, I know, I know. I sound like a stalker. But it's not stalking. It's... intel collecting.

I know she'll be here. She works until nine-thirty, so unlike the other night, I come in earlier, so I have time to see her. Time to talk to her. I also know they're not too busy at night so the cafe will at least be mostly empty, if not completely deserted.

From my stalk- intel collecting, I know Dick came in earlier to talk to her. I don't know what they talked about though. I don't know if I want to know. It pissed me off seeing Dick with Y/N. Pissed me off seeing him touch her again. Pissed me off seeing the smile that stayed on her face even after she left the cafe for class.

What does Dick think he's doing? I'm not stupid or blind. Hell, even a blind man can see how down-hard Dick is for Y/N. Even when we were younger, he pretty much had hearts in his eyes anytime Y/N was around. She wanted me last time; she'll want me this time too... I think.

The jingle of the bell on the door competes with my heartbeat for space in my ears. Sitting in one of the bar chairs at the coffee island is Y/N. Scarecrow is next to her, helping her with her chemistry homework. I'm not thrilled about this arrangement but at least Y/N is getting the academic help she needs.

"Hello!" Y/N peeps out, sending a smile at me as her attention turns away from Scarecrow. Her eyes soften when she focuses on me. "It's you again."

"It's me again," I mumble, taking slow steps towards her.

Scarecrow stands up, placing himself between Y/N and me. He's always been a small man, even when I was a kid, but he seems even smaller nowadays. "Again?" He asks, trying to look intimidating. He's barely intimidating when he's in his suit, and definitely isn't when he's dressed like a civilian.

"Again," Y/N peeps up, her voice still airy and soft. The same voice that used to whisper sweet nothings into my ear until I fell asleep most nights. "Helmet man here walked me home after I argued with Penguin the other night."

"You got into an argument with Penguin?" Crow asks, turning his attention from me to Y/N. "What did he want?"

"You know, the usual. He wants me in debt to him for another body to do his bidding," She teases a soft smile on her face in an attempt to comfort Crow. Scarecrow shifts around a bit glancing at me a few times.

I step aside, standing next to the skinny man and joining him looking at Y/N. She's so pretty, even out of her style and in the dumb uniform for the cafe. "Can I buy you a coffee?" I ask her, slowly tugging my helmet off as well as making sure the mask under it stays in place. The last thing I need is Scarecrow knowing I'm Jason Todd.

"Look at you, pulling all the guys today," Crow half teases, sending glares my way.

"I guess so," Y/N says, her smile even bigger as she scans over my face. Maybe she does know who I am.

"I have something to deal with. Will you be okay if I leave?" Crow asks, his attention not being pulled from me.

"I'll be fine. I'm pretty confident that I can take him if need be." Y/N giggles at herself, pulling a soft chuckle from Crow as well. He nods at her before turning on his heels and walking off. "What do you want to drink?" She asks, standing up and sliding behind the counter.

"I'll have whatever you're going to have." She hums, starting to make whatever it is she's making. I watch her move around, my eyes drinking in every moment. Memories flow in and out as I watch her. Memories of her hands on me, her lips on me, of her laugh, of her. "What do you think he's off to go do?" I ask, being careful not to call him Scarecrow in case she doesn't know. It would be better if Y/N didn't know; it would be one less person to protect her from.

She hums, her hands working at pouring our drinks out. "He's probably going to go line the fog machines in the Iceberg with fear gas. He gets pretty pissy when Penguin fucks with the staff." So, she does know. Is that good or bad? Probably good in this situation. "Here you go," She murmurs, pushing my cup towards me before walking back around the counter with her drink.

Y/N slides back into her seat, patting the one next to her. I obey, sitting down. Her eyes stay locked on me, the flickers of green swirling around them as she stares. The space is quiet, the only sound being us sipping on our coffees. "Are you stalking me?" She asks, filling in the space and causing me to choke a bit.

My lungs force out a cough in an attempt to counteract my choking. Y/N's eyes stay locked on me, the green standing out as she watches. "I... no?" Why the fuck did that come out as a question? That's pretty counterproductive. "No, I'm not." That's better... maybe.

She hums again, sipping on her coffee as she thinks over my answer. "Defiantly seems like you're stalking me. Most people don't sneak around and follow me all day." Once again silence falls between us. How am I supposed to respond to that?

Y/N sits in silence, enjoying her coffee as she watches me. Even though I know she's suspicious of me, I still find comfort in her gaze. "I don't remember much of my life before six months ago so if I'm supposed to know you, I'm not avoiding you. I just don't know who you are, so you don't need to sneak around me; you just need to talk to me. Well, and be patient please." She says, being the one to break the silence again.

Oh... So, she doesn't know anything. That's... scary. For many reasons. "Is there anything you do remember?" I ask, gently pushing my coffee back and forth between my hands.

"Snip bits of stuff. Though some things have started coming back since I ran into Nightwing and you. Some more came back after my coffee chat with Richard Grayson too."

Don't fucking say his name. Don't say it. You should be saying my name. Should be remembering stuff because of me. Not because of fucking Dick. "Oh ya?" I peep out, glaring ahead of me at the menu instead of focusing my anger on Y/N.

"Mmhmm..." She falls silent, nodding her head back and forth as if she's trying to wiggle her thoughts around. "Helmet man-"

"Red Hood," I say, cutting her off with my correction.

I turn my attention back to her, being met with her eyes already on me. "You're my Jason, right?"

"Ya," I push out, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. The word 'my' repeats nonstop in my head, bouncing around my brain as I try to sort through my feelings of bliss.

"I think I love you," She whispers, her hand dipping back behind her ear to mess with her tattoo.

The bliss is all washed away once the words hit my ears. She thinks she loves me? Does she not remember loving me? Of course not, Y/N doesn't remember anything. Well, at least a small piece of her remembers me. Remembers me enough to know she's supposed to love me and that's good enough. There's enough hope there for me to build on.

"Well, I know I love you," I whisper back, keeping my eyes on her to see her reaction. She's still looking at me, her eyes shining.

She hums a bit, tilting her head as she scans me again. "Can I take your mask off?" Y/N asks, her hands slow and gentle as they slide over my cheeks and come into contact with the mask covering my eyes.

"Ya."

Her fingers are soft as they snap off my mask. The joy drains from me as the warmth from her touch is removed. "Your eyes are green... I remember them being blue," Y/N says, her fingertips soon back on my cheeks.

I can feel my cheeks heating up, both from a blush and the hands present on my skin. "They used to be, now they're green." Y/N hums, running her fingers over my cheekbones before sliding them into my hair. I let my eyes close, soaking in her touches. It's calming, being able to be so close to her again, feeling her touch me again, feeling proof that she's alive. I lean forward a bit, getting close enough to feel Y/N's soft breathing coat my face. "Can..." Asking to kiss her might be a little much right now. Maybe I shouldn't ask.

"Can you what?" Y/N prompts, her hands dropping down to my shoulders.

My eyes snap open and once again they're met with the familiar color and the newly added flickers of green. Why did she only get slivers and mine completely changed color? "Can I take you on a date?" I finally ask, shifting a bit so our noses are touching. God, I want to kiss her. I want to hold her. I want her in every way possible. It's going to kill me having to work back up to that.

"I'd like that, Jason."

Yes. God, yes. "Say my name again," I mumble, rubbing my nose against hers.

"Jason," She whispers, bopping my nose with her own before pulling away from me.

———————————

Butterflies flap around my stomach, threatening to come up in a not-pretty way. My hands shake as I lift one to knock on the door of Y/N's apartment. The knocking feels loud as I do it. Maybe I knocked too loud.

The door swings open soon after, the door frame filling with the image of Y/N. She's dressed up with her hair down to cup her face. "Hi," I breathe out, my eyes drinking her in. She's so pretty, so perfect, so alive.

"Hello," she answers back, her eyes glancing at my hand. "You got me flowers?" Y/N asks, leaning against the door frame.

"Oh ya," I bark out, definitely too loud, as I push the bouquet toward her. I couldn't decide what flowers to get so I ended up getting three different bouquets and had the lady mix them. "Your favorite flowers are orange roses, but I didn't know if you still liked them or not, so I panicked and got more flowers than you probably need or want." That was dumb. Why did I say that? I feel like a thirteen-year-old with his first crush again.

"I still like orange roses," Y/N tells me, taking the flowers from me before walking back through the door. I follow after her, making sure to close the door behind me. Her apartment is small but cozy. There's not much in her home either but I guess that's expected since Y/N doesn't know herself.

There is a small couch and one of those old, bulky, shitty TVs tucked into her living room. The apartment smells nice, like pork and chili pepper. A million different dishes are stacked up around her countertop in the kitchen. "What are you making?" I ask her, sliding my jacket off before laying it on the couch.

"I'm making Pozole. I remember you liking it. Or I think you liked it. Somebody did at least," She mumbles a bit, keeping her attention to the pot on the stove in front of her.

"I like pozole. Alfred and you used to make it for me all the time."

Y/N's eyes light up at my words, making my chest fill with the warmth of joy. I walk into the cramped kitchen, making sure to stay out of her way as I stand in her presence. I watch her like a hawk as she works away, letting the warmth of the stove and the smell of dinner fill the space between us. For the first time in two years, I finally feel okay, finally feel at peace.

"You didn't answer my question the other day," I voice, sliding in closer to her. I want to hold her; I want to wrap my arms around her waist. I debate it for a second. I don't want to scare her off.

"What question?" Y/N asks, glancing at me before turning back to her project at hand.

"Is there anything you remember from our - er - your life?"

Y/N snaps the heat off, continuing to stir the pot as she thinks it over. "There's not a lot I do remember. I'm starting to remember this dude named Wally, I think. I don't know. I'm going to talk to Dick about him tomorrow. I remember a bit about Dick too but not much. I remember a bit about you... about us." Her eyes glance at me, before turning back to our dinner. She picks up some heat absorbers, wrapping them around the pot before setting it on a cutting board on the counter.

She's talking to Dick? About her memories? Or lack thereof, I guess. I don't want her talking to him. What's he going to say to her? What has he already said to her? What ideas is he putting into Y/N's head? Has Dick tried anything with her?

"What do you remember about us?" I ask, trying to push for more information as I try to forget my worried thoughts.

Y/N floats around the kitchen, taking out dishes for our food. My eyes trail her as she moves around the small space. "Umm... I remember us kissing a lot."

I chuckle a bit at that response. We do - did kiss a lot. We did other things a lot too. "Ya, ya we kissed a lot. We were very... touchy." Y/N giggles a bit as she makes our plates. My eyes keep glancing from her face to her hips. I really want to touch her. Before I can stop myself, I push off the counter I'm leaning on and wrap her up in me. My hands are firm on her hips and her back is pressed into my chest as I bury my head into her neck.

Y/N stiffens a bit in my hold before relaxing her muscles again. "We danced a lot too," I mumble into her neck, softly shifting her hips so we can sway together. She sways with me, her body weight feeling so good against mine. "You liked to read out loud to me too."

"Do you not know how to read?" She teases, shifting in my hold so we're face to face.

"I know how to read, I just read too slow for your liking."

"Oh ya?"

"Absolutely not, I just like your voice," I answer, lifting my head from her neck and placing our noses next to each other.

Y/N's hands slide up my arms, resting on my shoulders. "Our favorite book is The Great Gatsby, ya?"

My heart swells a bit at her words. "Ya, it is," I whisper, trying to focus my eyes on hers instead of her lips. It doesn't work so I decide to close my eyes, letting myself focus on her body heat instead. We stay silent, sitting like this, with me holding her. I could stay like this forever.

"Could you kiss me?" Y/N mumbles, shifting in my hold.

My eyes snap open, taking in her face. I roll the words over in my head. I already thought holding her was much for a "first date" and now she's asking me to kiss her? Maybe this is a trap. Maybe I'm making her feel like we have to move fast. Maybe Al Ghul is fucking with my head somehow. "Why?" I peep out, loosening my grip on her.

"Well, my therapist says doing stuff I used to do can help with my memories coming back. We were together ya?"

"Ya, we still are." Her face pinches some as her body stiffens again. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. It isn't fair of me to expect a relationship from Y/N. She doesn't even know who she is, let alone who I am.

"Well, I thought maybe kissing you again would help. We don't have to-"

"I really want to kiss you," I say, cutting her off, and tightening my grip on her again. Y/N's hands slide to the back of my neck, her fingers shaking a bit against my skin but her body relaxes again. "Close your eyes," I mumble, sliding my nose against hers again.

Y/N obeys, fluttering her eyes shut. I take my time, trailing kisses across her nose, her eyes, and her cheeks, before placing myself above her mouth. I soak this scene in for a second before closing the gap between us. Her lips are soft against mine and taste like mint gum.

I shift my hands up, cupping her neck with one and softly dipping the other into her hair. All my need and want and love is boiled into the kiss. Our lips shift against each other for a while, the kiss getting heated way more than it meant.

As my lungs start burning, Y/N pulls back, making me a bit sad. I'd gladly suffocate to death from her kiss. "Jason," She murmurs, her words a little slurred.

"Say it again," I whisper back, tilting my head so our lips are close again.

"Jason," She mutters again. Her lips brush against mine as she speaks.

Fucking Christ. This is too hot, too heated, too much for her right now but I can't stop thinking about hearing her whisper my name all night. "I can't wait for you to fall in love with me again," I say, keeping my tone at a whisper as I glance over her face.

"Why is that?" Y/N asks, her fingers tangling into my hair.

"Because I still love you so fucking much."

———————————————————————

[poisonousquinzel]

Thoughts on the recent Poison Ivy comics?

Emotionally, I'm fine with how the whole Janet thing wrapped up and am glad it is (hopefully) over. I knew Ivy wasn't staying dead, but I'm glad it wasn't dragged out sksks

that being said...

I don't still understand. What was the point? I'm still gonna post my like 12k+ post about it, gonna add a bit about the ending here cause it does wrap up like I thought I'm just.... I'm so confused. I genuinely don't understand why the Moments with Janet happened, I don't understand the thought process writing wise. I don't get why they thought it was .... at all worth it?

it means nothing, legitimately nothing, to the plot, or to harlivy. Neither Harley or Ivy care about the secret or the Moment, they're better than ever, and Janet didn't seem like she was attempting to insert herself into their dynamic

I don't really like that Harlivy didn't have the conversation themselves and that Janet just blurted it all out. I am glad she acknowledged she's a damned homewrecker

At the end of the day, this meant nothing. There was no reason to include any of this. She could have just been Ivy's friend.

She's not joining their relationship, she will never have a relationship or bond comparable to the one Harlivy has. She's just Janet-From-HR. And that's all.

GWW has said herself on one of her socials,

"Janet is a trouble maker! But it's pretty clear who Harley and Ivy really care about."

So like....what was the point?

There was no need to have Janet step out of line like she did, there is no acknowledgement of her disrespectful behavior towards both of them, there is no apology. Nada.

Are we supposed to have taken those moments as actual Moments? Are we supposed to take it as Harlivy cheated on each other with Janet and then laughed about it when she decided to reveal it to each of them? Cause..... yeah maybe let's not maybe let's think about stereotypes that plague the LGBT community.

Just...

Narratively, what was the point?

I have a lot to say about this arc in general so I won't drag this down KSJDJSKSKKS

On a different note I LOVE THEM AND THE ART IS SO PRETTY I LOVE WINNING<3333333

[reddtea]

I've revisited some of my old batman art seeing if I can improve both on style and design. I had this idea that Ivy should start off as a politician like Dent and I really liked the idea of her and Harvey being together, with eachother being a big part of the other's spiral into villainy. /// So here's the thought...Pam and Harvey are politicians who both want to see Gotham prosper though have different ideas of what that looks like, Pam thinks that by building more parks and public gardens they could start to pave a better future by making the city nicer for children as well as wanting to put out policies to control pollution. Harvey's approach to improving the city is by funding better education and social services to better empower the poor and put laws in place to protect workers. Both looking to tax the rich to fund these projects which get's the court of owl's attention. Both of them pay dearly for their views as Harvey gets kidnapped and tortured (half of his face is cut off) and he's given an options of either running away with Pam or doing exactly what they say if he doesn't want Pam hurt. Harvey tries to convince Pam to leave Gotham to drop it all and get away when they can. Pamela refuses after everything they've worked for and with Bruce backing them they're going to make Gotham a better place. Harvey tells her what really happened to him and why half his face is gone and why he thinks Gotham is a lost cause, hoping that it might be able to change her mind. Though the owls are watching and they take out Pamela for being too stubborn to leave and for knowing about them. When they take Pamela they murder her and dispose of her body in a swamp. Harvey knows Pam is missing though he's not sure if she dead or held hostage by the owls, all he knows is that it was likely his fault that she's gone. His paranoia of owls gets worse in her absence, without any way of communicating with them he has no way of knowing if he's doing right by them or if Pam can be saved if she's being kept as a bargaining chip. Harvey hates being made a pawn of the owls he wants to quit the political race but Bruce tells him he needs to keep at it, though he's not sure if he could trust Bruce or anyone for the possibility they might be an owl. So he choses to lock up a government building with a bunch of people trapped inside and set it on fire to eliminate any owls that might be there and to maybe see Pam again if she's already dead. When Pam is killed she is resurrected by swamp thing from there she's left confused, months (maybe little more than a year? idk) have passed since she was killed. She returns lost and confused and she goes to Bruce to figure out what happened since she was gone and Bruce turns her away at the door, so she's left to piece it all together herself.

She's heartbroken at the news that Harvey died in a fire and she makes it her goal to wipe out the people who hurt Harvey and killed her. She resents Bruce for being a bad friend and not looking out for Harvey when he needed him, believing that if he'd turn his back on her he must've done the same to Harvey while she was gone. /// I'm a big fan of the idea of villains starting off as normal to good people and then bad circumstances changing them. I don't like redeemable at all but resentful? vengeful? good stuff. I always felt like Harvey is kind of aimless after the transformation like the multipersonality bpd mr hyde takes over and that's it and Ivy just never had a legit evil motive other than "nature's great and men are trash" and her being paired with Quinn doesn't really do much for her character than making her "Harley's cute supportive not abusive lesbian girlfriend" Which no hate on gays but Ivy is really just an accessory to Harley's "men are trash I date girls now".

[verosvault]

🚨SPOILERS FOR FANTASY HIGH JUNIOR YEAR EPISODE 8🚨

Dimension20 "Fantasy High Junior Year"

Episode 8 "Fracas at the Frostyfaire Folk Festival"

Timestamp: 39:40

Video Length: 4min. & 23sec.

Research into Cassandra and Ruvina + Learning about Oblivati Mori (Pt.1 | Pt.2 | ‣Pt.3)

Brennan: "But that would mean that if someone was able to write it, they would know it, but they would have to have a way of writing it without breaking Obliviati Mori. There's two pieces of information you guys can glean from that right away, the first of which is that belief and worship and the weird, tenuous alliances between gods where some of them are from the same region but have conflicting domains, and some gods have the same domain as other gods but are still ascendent in different areas or for different kinds of cultures or anything like that, all the gods have this agreement that is basically like, for lack of a better word, we're all playing the game, and if your fucking buddy or your pal or someone you love loses fair and square, you're not allowed to go to your mortal worshipers and say, "Hey, can we peel off a few followers to my buddy who's having a hard time right now?" It's basically like a law of, you are not allowed to root for each other. You are not allowed to pull for each other. You're not allowed to put a thumb on the scale in that way. If your flocks choose to have you work together, you can work together, but when a god dies, that's it. You're not allowed to cheat by reminding mortals that there was this other deity."

Siobhan: "But if we went and asked another deity about this god, would they then be able to tell us? Or would we have to specifically say their name?"

Brennan: "According to Obliviati Mori, they would not be able to tell you. But the law is a law, which immediately to you, Adaine, would tell you, well, any rule has ways of working around it."

Siobhan: "Ok, Great. So it's a law, but laws can be broken."

Brennan: "Yeah. And there might be enormous arcane penalties for so doing, but effectively, you know that there are dead gods. There are rules concerning how the other gods can refer to those dead gods to mortals, if they are even allowed to. And to a certain degree... But again, the second, biggest thing is, of course, this wouldn't be a thing unless gods could always remember dead gods."

Siobhan: "Mhmm."

Zac: "So do we have a sense of, when Lydia and her crew were on this mission, they never knew the name of this god, right? Or did they at one point know it?"

Brennan: "Lydia can confirm for you, she's like,"

Lydia: "We never knew the name of the god. We knew Bakur, the fiend, but-"

Fig: "Even though gods can't say the name, the name could still exist out there in texts."

Lydia: "Exactly, which is why a lot of, you know, if a god is trying to be crushed or scoured, you try to break their idols, erase their texts, burn the holy texts, all that kind of thing. But theoretically, if we had found the name written somewhere on text, that would have done it.

Fabian: "Then it makes sense why Cassandra said that thing about being like, I thought you were dead."

Fig: "I thought you were dead."

*multiple "yeah's" at the table* 😂🤣💀

Fabian: "Mm~."

Riz: "So if you had to get around it, maybe a way to do it would be to possess someone or something. Is it possible that Lucy..."

Fig: "Was possessed?"

Riz: "...was possessed?"

Fig: "All the Rat Grinders are suspiciously qui-. No one's grieving Lucy or anything like that."

Adaine: "Yeah, it's weird, right?"

Fig: "So the Rat Grinders are in on this, in some capacity. And I even think it's possible that, the way that Ivy reacted to me, either she saw through my disguise and so she was being cheeky, or Lucy's around somehow and they've just found another way to proselytize-"

Fabian: "Oh-! Maybe- Yes! 'Cause she did beckon to you, right? To be like-"

Fig: "Yeah, she was like, 'Oh- Okay, we're meeting up.'"

Fabian: "Ooo~ Yes, like a possession thing, where somebody's, the god is Lucy and- and-"

Murph: "What happened to that armor after Gilear had it?"

Emily: "What happened with the armor?"

Brennan: "He'd stolen it from Hell, and he just returned it to you when you guys got back from spring break."

Emily: "Where is it?"

Murph: "So, it just should be in Hell?"

Brennan: "Yeah, the Armor of Pride is back in the Hall of the Armors of Sin."

Murph: "Okay."

Brennan: "So the Armor of Pride is just down in Hell."

Emily: "And all the demons are archfey are fallen deities?"

Brennan: "Unclear. Some great celestials and fiends are created by gods in their status as celestials or fiends. Bakur was created by a god that he could no longer name, right, and so there's certain- But it looks like some divinities, some archfey or some celestials or some things like that, are gods who, their worship is waning and waning and waning or their divinity is waning and waning and waning, and they just make a decision to, rather than face death, become something that relies a little bit less on faith."

[kipperlillyforpresident]

I received an anon ask which I found to be... well, really interesting. I agree with a lot of the points they make. But I also disagree with the way that they've presented their argument in many aspects.

I considered not responding to it, but it's my policy to answer all asks which are sent in good faith (at the moment, at least). And I could just answer it as-is, but I didn't really want to do that either.

So, instead I'm answering it with this disclaimer. Opinions of anonymous users do not represent the beliefs of Kipperlillyforpresident.tumblr.com, etc etc. With that out of the way, here is the ask:

I want Gorgug to go to Artificer class and try to explain to Henry why his nephew wasn't worth saving, but Aelwyn was. Ragh was. I want Fabian to sit alone at his house because Mazey won't talk to him, and think about how his last words to Ivy just reflected his own thoughts about himself, because he'd never learnt anything about her. Fabian is a vindictive, vain, sex obsessed rich kid with no person in his life who wants to really listen to him. I want Fig to see Henry in the corridors on her way to Paladin class, not meeting his gaze because doing so she would have to explain to him that his nephew wasn't worth the justice her Goddess promises. I want Riz to go to a psychiatrist – not Jawbone – and I want him to talk about the fact that he hates a version of himself so much he couldn't possibly allow her to live, and he in fact relished in the idea that she'd never come back. I want Lucy to come back and hear what The Bad Kids did in her name, and I want her to absolutely tear them a new one. I want her eyes – that they all thought of as sorrowful and deep while never having paid attention to them before her death – to be cold and unwelcome as she looks them up and down and asks them to explain their actions. I want her voice to raise well above the level of what any of them had envisioned of her when they studied her desecrated and fragile body in the woods. I want her to ask them if they knew where Mary Ann lived, or if Reuben had any siblings that would miss him. I want her to hear the podcast episode written about her by a person having a wild guess based on her lifeless form and a handful of anecdotes from her now deceased friends. I probably won't get it, but it's nice to imagine.

So to start off with: I really do like the premise of this. Dealing with the consequences of rage is the part of the story - both in TRG and TBK - that I'm most interested in. And a part of my frustration with the narrative is that I don't think we'll be getting any consequences along this line, and that everything is going to be tied up in a neat bow for a happily ever after.

I do agree/find myself interested in almost all of the scenarios you present. Gorgug and Henry in particular - I think that really needs to come back and haunt the narrative. My personal headcanon is that Henry strongly recommends he take dual credit classes for Artificer at the local community college, because he knows he'll be unable to be fair to him.

And god, Fig and Ankarna! How is she going to justify redeeming the one who caused all of this conquest and rage, yet brutally and cruelly torturing people who were infected by it? It's really compelling. Although for the Riz thing - I don't think he'd willingly go to a psychiatrist at any point, lmao.

And Lucy, holy shit, Lucy, I hate so badly how TBK talk about Lucy. I always talk about her being "dead wife montage", because that really does feel like how she's been treated. Going into battle and murdering all of her friends and claiming its "for Lucy"??? It's really dark. I do NOT want Lucy to like TBK after everything is over.

All that said... I really don't enjoy the way anon has characterized Fabian here. I've been on the record as being deeply uncomfortable with how he treated Ivy. And I want him to face consequences for it. I want him to realize he never learned anything about her, and that the fact she rejected him is almost certainly a part of why he hates her so much. I want him to remember that we "don't talk about women like that"!

But to call him a "vindictive, vain, sex obsessed rich kid"...? It doesn't fully sit right with me. I suppose that it's not entirely wrong, but it's leaving out a lot of aspects of his character. It's painting him exclusively in the most negative light possible.

This ask is treating Fabian - and TBK in general, I suppose - in the exact same way that most of the fandom treats TRG. Exclusively focusing on their worst aspects and ignoring any extenuating circumstances.

And if I'm going to crusade for TRG to be treated with more respect in the narrative, then I suppose my natural inclination is to do the same for TBK. Not that anybody is mandated to do so. You're allowed to engage with media however you'd like, and if fully despising TBK is what brings you the most enjoyment, then go ahead. But it's not my own philosophy.

I appreciate anon for sending this ask, because it did make me think about a lot of stuff! I hope that everybody interacts with this post in a respectful manner, but if discourse happens, it happens ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[britcision]

I am back! And with the beginnings of some answers to the mysteries, though sadly not the full John Constantine lowdown! But I will make it up to you all with some Harley shenanigans!

There just wasn’t enough space to get them both in and of course Harley comes first, I stan a queen (Quinn)

We’re gonna take a much closer look in Brucie’s head this time too as he gets a bunch of new information and maybe some new trauma, so this chapter and the next will be a lil Bruce heavy

(Jason is thrilled, believe me)

First Chapter:

Previous Chapter:

———————

Yeah This Might As Well Happen

Jason really wished he could just focus on having a good time with his family. The food was, as always, exquisite, and Sam and Tucker were moaning happily along with the others.

It smelled great. It looked great. It tasted great, but something in the back of Jason’s head just wouldn’t switch off.

Not until Danny came back.

Even the thought that Danny might be in danger while he just ate dinner sat like a lead weight in his stomach.

The expanded aura… well. It kind of helped? Being practically choked by Danny’s presence, aware in every pore of his skin that Danny was there, was fine, wasn’t hurting, did help.

It just. Made it impossible to really think about anything else.

He was barely following the conversation, just reading the intricacies of Danny’s mood changes and losing track of sentences as people said them.

Finally, finally, Danny’s aura shifted again.

Done-got him-no big deal-coming back.

Jason almost sagged in his seat, shoulders unknotting marginally (they probably wouldn’t finish until he could see Danny and prove he was fine).

Sent impatient-relieved-happy-hurry back as well as he could, and nearly dropped his fork at the warm swell of affection he received in return.

Well.

Affection-amused-teasing.

Clearing his throat, Jason did his best to will away the heat along the back of his neck. Nope, he wasn’t gonna blush when Danny wasn’t even here to look at him while smothering him in those feelings.

And it was definitely just the pit curling up into a little buzzing ball of happiness in his chest. Definitely not actually Jason melting like snow under a blow torch.

Whatever.

Danny was fine, he’d be back soon and Alfred had saved them both plates. And sure, maybe something in Jason wouldn’t unclench until he could see Danny in person, but letting Alfred’s cooking go cold was a sin.

He dug into his still steaming plate, forcing his shoulders to relax a little. Tucker and Tim were still talking about tech, currently disparaging what the GIW thought were elite security measures.

Harley had lured Sam, Duke, and Cass into a discussion of her new place in Coney Island at the other end of the table, and yeah, Jason could get interested in that.

Someone might have already asked, but hey. He waited for a convenient pause and leaned in.

“Didn’t Croc move down there with you? He and Riddler attacked the gala last night,” he explained when Harley made a curious noise, head cocking to one side.

Her brow furrowed, so apparently the others hadn’t gotten this far yet. Not sure if he was glad or gonna tease them mercilessly later.

“He what? Yeah, he moved in, but he came back this way ta keep me company as I came up here. Someone’s tryin’ ta give me a hard time cuzza my criminal record, an’ they’re gettin’ intel from one of your local problems,” she added with a shrug, waving her hand.

Cuz yeah, that was also on the list; she’d been up with Ivy, neither of them noticeably causing trouble before apparently Ida Manson got them out of town.

Cass made a small noise of concern and Harley patted her hand, grinning.

“Oh, don’t you worry about me doll, it’s all under control. Thought it might be Pengy havin’ another go at my spot but he burst into tears when I walked in so it’s prob’ly not him,” she said with a very self satisfied smile.

Jason chuckled softly because… yeah, he could picture that. It tracked.

“Smart man,” Duke agreed with a snicker and Harley gave him a fist bump.

“Yeah, I’ll run ‘em down. But why was Waylon at the gala? He jus’ said he was gonna look inta some shit while I was gone,” Harley asked, looking around the table for an answer.

Jason shrugged.

“All their demands were for Harvey Dent. Apparently he was planning to make a run and they beat him to the punch,” he explained, in as much as he understood.

If no one else had a hand on Dent by tonight, he miiiight stretch one of his Red Hood patrols out of Crime Alley to go for a look see.

The man missed his party. The least Jason could do was pay a personal visit.

“Croc mentioned Jason,” Cass noted with a small frown, looking up at him with concern.

And, yeah, that was the other reason he was thinking of getting involved. He couldn’t imagine what the fuck he’d done as a civvie to annoy Dent.

Harley huffed, blowing blonde bangs off her face and lacing her fingers, pointing at Jason.

“Okay, so we gotta go talk to Waylon tomorrow and find out what’s goin’ on. He’s comin’ with me back to Coney when the time comes so he ain’t got time for Arkham,” she said firmly, and something settled in Jason’s gut.

Waylon had so badly wanted the Red Hood not to turn out like he had; another criminal permanently trapped in the system. Yeah, he’d like to return the favour.

Of course, not everyone in the room was up on all the secrets. Sam leaned forward, breaking her quiet streak that as far as Jason knew was her longest ever.

“Wait, you’re going to break that guy out of jail? He wanted to strap a bomb vest to Jason,” she said harshly, finally snapping Tim and Tucker out of their little happy world.

Jason raised both hands.

“He didn’t succeed.” Much as Danny had freaked out about it, Jason wasn’t gonna complain about things that hadn’t happened.

Too much like it actually happened every day, he’d never be done.

Oh. Maybe that was kinda why Danny had freaked out. That probably wasn’t good.

His personal revelation was dampened by Harley waving a hand easily.

“Nah nah nah, we’re not gonna break ‘im out tomorra. He’s gonna tell us what the fuck he was thinkin’, I’m gonna break Dent’s kneecaps, and Batsy’s gonna give a character statement an’ get ‘im released ta me for community service.”

And if any of that didn’t work, they could still just break Croc out the next day. Jason knew the unspoken corollary.

Tucker’s eyebrows raised and he said the very stupidest thing that Jason had ever heard from a genius, and he’d seen Tim on 72 hours of no sleep.

“You know Batman?” He asked incredulously.

Harley stared at him for a long moment. Then snickered.

“Yeah, we know each other from work,” she said dryly, waving her fork, “we go way back.”

The assorted bats snickered to themselves and Tucker sunk back in his chair a little, grinning sheepishly around the table.

“Yeah… sorry.”

Sam rolled her eyes, arms folded as she frowned down the table. She clearly had a bigger question, which was probably fair for anyone who didn’t know the combined Harley-and-bats history.

“And you think Batman will do you a favour? He’s not exactly known to listen to reason,” she pointed out half sarcastically. Not that anyone in the room would argue.

There was a reason Jason loved her.

Harley weighed her up for a moment, then grinned, leaning forward.

“Y’know, kid, I don’t think we were introduced. There’s somethin’ real familiar about you,” she mused, folding her arms on the table and leaning over them, plate slowly nudged aside.

Sam smirked and shrugged. They were meeting a lot of new people these past couple days, but if she’d been doing the gala circuit her whole life?

Yeah, this probably wasn’t the worst. Harley was better than Jason had ever met at a party.

“Sam Manson. Friend of Jason’s through Danny,” she added with a nod to the empty seat still between her and Jason.

Harley beamed, hiking forward onto the table a little more.

“Oh, you’d be Ida’s granddaughter then?” She asked brightly, clearly pleased to have been right. “Your granny’s a real doll, sent me and Ivy on a real sweet vacation this week.”

Sam chuckled softly and nodded, giving Harley a half apologetic half cocky smile.

“Yeah, that’d be my fault. I’m not allowed to come to Gotham if there’s a chance Poison Ivy is in town,” she explained, fingers on her left hand tapping against her right arm.

Both of Harley’s brows went up.

“Oh? Are they scared somethin’ might happen to ya?” She asked, tone already very firmly suggesting she knew the answer.

So did most of the rest of the table, though Duke hadn’t actually heard the explanation last night. Not like he needed to, having met Sam for more than five minutes.

Sam didn’t disappoint. She gave another elegant half shrug, her smile turning fully dark.

“Oh, more the opposite. They think I’ll run off and join her if I see her,” she said innocently. Across the table, Tucker snorted most of a laugh.

A moment later Harley joined him, tossing her head back and laughing.

“Yeah, that sounds like Ida’s girl,” she agreed, wiping a dainty tear from her eye, “she was a real spitfire in her younger days, the stories she told Ivy when they were protestin’ together were wild.”

Sam was practically glowing with pride, and Jason had to admit that he would kinda like to meet her grandmother. He’d met her parents, and… well, maybe awesome skipped a generation.

Harley suddenly stopped, head cocking as she noticed something, a sly smile creeping across her face.

“So if they think you’ll run away with Ivy… whadda they think’ll happen if ya run into me?” She asked with a delicately studied innocence, examining her nails.

“Only good things,” Cass offered, grinning past Jason at Sam. Sam grinned back, giving Harley a shrug and a similarly innocent smile.

“Y’know, they’ve just never mentioned it. Clearly there’s no concerns there,” she agreed, and Jason snickered, raising his glass in a toast.

“None here,” he noted and Sam laughed, clinking her glass against his. Dick raised a hand, fighting a laugh.

“One concern for the integrity of Bruce’s skull?” He offered innocently, and laughed when Jason threw a napkin at him.

“If Bruce’s skull was gonna break it’d have done it years ago,” Steph opined as the voice of experience. Jason raised his glass to her too, but she was a little far to clink.

She grabbed hers up and raised it back anyway, and Sam filled the gap, clinking hers to Jason’s and then to Steph’s to pass it on.

“It’s good for him ta get his eggs scrambled,” Harley agreed from the other end of the table, raising her glass too, “and I’m gonna guess you did some percussive maintenance too that I’ll ask about later.”

“Bruce might still have a concussion,” Duke offered, not completely certain where he sat with this kind of joking, but the kid was new.

You had to watch Bruce try and kill himself going out on patrol with more bones broken than whole a couple times before you gave in to his indestructibility.

Shit, maybe he should ask Danny if Bruce was liminal. For all the guy was technically a default human, Jason knew literal aliens with a better grasp on humanity.

And ghosts, now.

Harley gave him a nod anyway and patted his hand.

“I’ll aim low then sugar, don’t you fret. But to answer yer other question, Sam, Batman’s gonna get Waylon out for me cuz he doesn’t want ‘im in Arkham any more ‘n we do. Bats wants us all ta get better, and Waylon does best left alone,” she explained with a shrug.

“Until you leave him unsupervised and he teams up with Riddler?” Tim asked with a slight smile.

Jason shook his head, leaning forward on his arms too.

“He wouldn’t do it for no reason. He asked what I’d done to upset Two Face, but I can’t think of anything.” They didn’t even cross paths often.

Dent had taken Red Hood’s claim on Crime Alley as a given, learned quickly that Jason didn’t give a shit about playing nice, and minded his business.

“You sound like you know him pretty well,” Tucker said with a slight frown, and Jason shrugged.

Yeah, Tucker wasn’t in on the Robin thing yet. Luckily there was an easy answer.

“I grew up in Gotham. You guys keep coming back and you’ll get a feel for most of ‘em too.”

Tucker hesitated for a moment, probably thinking back to Amity and their own ghostly rogues. Then he nodded, settling back to poke at his mostly finished plate.

Tim still didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t know Waylon the way Jason did. They’d never had the chance to talk beyond the usual Robin-and-Rogue.

Jason could prove his point tomorrow. Maybe bring Danny along.

And like the thought summoned him, Jason’s phone buzzed to a text from Danny.

‘DannyP: who tf is Constantine??👀👀🤣’

**

Bruce sucked in a deep breath, eye closing, and forced himself to exhale.

He fucking hated magic.

So. Analysis.

From what he understood of Constantine’s general capabilities, him being difficult to find by malicious forces was not unexpected. That seemed credible.

Did Bruce count as a malicious force?

A stern self inventory, past the part that insisted he’d never wish harm on a teammate on principle, and… yes.

He would never have followed the impulse, would have stomped it down the moment he found the man, but he couldn’t deny the urge to lay hands was there.

He’d even been devising new layers of paperwork to insist the man fill out. With, yes, malice in his heart. Just a little bit of spite.

If that counted into making the man impossible to contact… well, he’d bear it in mind. And talk with Zatanna and Dr Fate and see it they could fine tune those wards a little more.

No matter how angry he was about Amity Park, he didn’t want anything actually harmful to happen to a colleague. Even this colleague. Although if he had to pick one…

No. That wasn’t a helpful train of thought.

Taking another steadying breath, this one slower and more evenly, he glanced down at the car. Danny wouldn’t hear anything while inside, but that wouldn’t stop him opening a door to ask what the hold up was.

Forcing Brucie’s casual tones on was harder than normal, but that was expected.

“I can’t really talk about that right now. Can you come by to visit tonight?” Bruce paused, checking his watch. Coming up on seven. “In an hour or so?”

*

The smile dropped off Constantine’s face as quickly as it had formed. Of fucking course the bat wanted everyone to run around to his fuckin’ schedule.

Raising hell for John all fuckin’ night and all fuckin’ day but when John actually got back to him it was all “oh now’s not a good time”.

His more spiteful side wanted to insist on right now, he was a busy man and he had shit to do that Batman wouldn’t even wanna fuckin’ think about.

Shit, John didn’t like thinking about it.

But it was only an hour, and he could use the damn zeta tubes, and it wasn’t like he’d been planning on fuckin’ sleeping. Why would he do that?

And if it unfucked his communicators, he could use that hour to ask the Superboys what the fuck they were playing at in Alaska.

And then he could sleep, Bat off his ass and conscience clean. Fuck it.

“Yeah, whatever. Wanna tell me what’s got your damn panties in a twist in case there’s shit I need to get ready?”

So of course Bat-tastic said the two worst words Constantine had heard in his life.

“Amity Park.”

Fuck.

**

Bruce didn’t enjoy the sharp little intake of breath, followed by no sass whatsoever. It wasn’t easy to make John Constantine speechless.

No, this was definitely just satisfaction that the man knew the gravity of what he’d done. That whatever reasons he’d had, he knew Bruce would be waiting for a damn good explanation.

That there might be one.

Bruce didn’t like even considering that an ally would have done something so serious just because he didn’t want to deal with it. Even Constantine.

When the man hadn’t spoken almost a minute later, Bruce took pity on him.

“I’ll see you in an hour.”

Constantine managed a weak agreement and he nodded, satisfied at least that the man would still be there. And if he wasn’t, Bruce could work out a way to reach him again.

Someone had obviously found him to tell him Bruce was looking for him. And apparently there were consequences for Constantine too if he tried to avoid him.

He hesitated for a moment before getting back into the car. He’d been planning to ask Danny gently about Amity Park, to try and work out what had happened.

Something light that might make him lower his guard. Then turn the subject to Jason. How precisely Danny was helping him. What he knew of the pits.

They wouldn’t have time for a full interrogation, not even in the tail end of rush hour traffic, but it would be a start.

But did he want to tip his hand now? Before Constantine gave him the truth about Amity Park, when all it would take was a matter of hours?

Danny likely knew that Brucie was a mask, but it might be useful to keep it on just a little longer.

Light subjects only then. From what Dick and Tim had reported, Danny was equally likely to just drop some huge revelation to see what Bruce would do.

Yes.

Perhaps he could bait that tendency by being innocuous.

Bruce slid back into the driver’s seat, giving Danny his best, emptiest smile.

“So sorry about that. Just a business contact I’ve been having trouble tracking down, so I didn’t want to let him slip away again.” Honesty, in case he could tell.

They would need to get a better idea of Danny’s power-set. If Duke couldn’t do it alone, perhaps Tim’s observation skills could help.

Danny barely glanced up from his phone, shooting Bruce a quick grin before returning his attention to the screen.

“Yeah? Didn’t know anything got done over the new year, I’d have thought everyone was too hung over.” It sounded like a joke, a cheerful prod.

Bruce swore internally anyway, because he was right. Clearly he knew more than an average student.

He didn’t let it show, chuckling along good naturedly.

“Oh I’d have much preferred getting this done with before the new year, but some people are a little hard to get hold of,” he explained jovially, starting the car and backing out.

Danny hummed an agreement, not looking up from his phone. A sharp glance (he could always say he was checking the boy was strapped in) did not show him the screen.

When had Danny strapped in? Bruce would swear he hadn’t when he’d sat, but it was there now.

Clearly his apparent absorption was a trick. Intended to remind Bruce of a typical young adult, make him lower his guard.

Danny stifled a laugh just as they were leaving the garage, and Bruce barely resisted another effort to look over. The screen would still be tilted away.

His opponent was a cunning one.

Or he was overreacting. It could be a real innocence, not a calculated one. A young man paying more attention to his phone?

He wouldn’t have thought it sinister if it were Tim, Dick, Duke, any of their friends.

No.

He couldn’t take that chance. Not with Jason. He couldn’t afford to relax his guard.

It was unfair to Danny, unfair to both of them.

He’d lost Jason once by not paying close enough attention, and Bruce would be the very first to admit that he’d never gotten his boy back.

Jason had returned in body, mind, and soul, just like he’d wished and prayed for for so long. But there was a distance now that Bruce had no idea how to bridge.

He’d thought he was on the right path last night, but a constant nagging in his gut told him he was wrong.

Every time he closed his eyes he saw Jason’s shocked, white face when he’d apologised. It was a blessing he’d had enough to keep him from his bed.

He’d been so sure it was the right move. The next step to closing the distance between them. Offering Jason the public apology, the acknowledgement that Bruce had failed him.

But that was why Bruce would face gods and walk backwards into Hell before he let anything else try and take his baby boy from him again.

“Y’know, you could just tell Jason you love him.”

Bruce nearly crashed the car.

Luckily they were at a red light, so his reflexive slamming hit the brake, not the gas, and the car barely lurched.

When he was sure his heart was still beating, he chanced a glance over at Danny.

The boy was half smirking down at his phone, clearly aware of the consternation he’d caused, and looked up when he felt Bruce’s eyes on him.

And shrugged, like it was nothing.

“Dude, you’re brooding so hard there’s basically a black cloud over your head.”

Add mind reading to the list of suspected powers.

Bruce felt his eyes narrowing before rigid control snapped back into place, keeping his expression Brucie-open.

“What do you mean?” He asked, in a tone he knew gave nothing away.

Danny snorted like he’d told a joke.

“Man, I’m just saying. Jason barely thinks you fuckin’ like him, it’d save you both a lot of trouble if you’d just sit him down and tell him how you feel.”

Bruce hesitated for a long moment, staring into deep blue eyes that suddenly seemed as deep and unreadable as the deepest ocean. As old as time.

Then he forced his eyes back to the road as the light turned and cars started moving again.

That. Couldn’t be true. It was an attempt at manipulation.

A predator expertly analysing what he thought was Bruce’s greatest weakness, striking to do as much damage as he could.

Of course Jason knew that Bruce loved him. He must have. He had to.

There was no way this stranger who by all accounts Jason had known for barely a week could know more about Jason’s life than his own father.

**

Danny hummed softly to himself, most of his attention on his phone as he texted back and forth with Jason.

‘DannyP: ur dad is giving me the biggest cop energy rn 😳🚔🚔’

Mostly ignoring just the solid waves of angst emanating from Bruce like miasma. Poor guy was only wrapping himself tighter in his own head for Danny’s interjection.

‘JTodd: Yeah Dickie comes by it honestly.’

That was probably a sign Danny shouldn’t do it again.

‘DannyP: 👀👀 think he’s mad at me’

Danny wasn’t great at following signs. Or sitting quietly, in all honesty.

‘JTodd: No one told you not to fly back.’

‘DannyP: Imma make it worse 😈😈’

Tucking his feet up to the edge of his seat, he slumped down as low as he could, glancing up at Bruce through his bangs.

“Sooooooo, how was lunch with Vlad? You seem to have survived, so I’m gonna guess football didn’t come up much?” He prodded, still half suspecting Masters had been up to something.

Bruce wasn’t overshadowed, didn’t have any of Vladdie’s taint that said it had happened in the past, but Danny wasn’t gonna rule out something new.

And all the clenching the big guy was doing on the wheel and on his jaw looked kinda painful.

‘JTodd: I’ll give a touching speech at your funeral.’

Bruce did finally force himself to relax though, sucking in a breath like he’d forgotten he had to.

Mood. Danny forgot about breathing a fair chunk too. Didn’t always remember to do it at all.

His posture changed too, shifting forcefully back to the more lax, open lines of his public persona, but there wasn’t much point. Danny could still feel his aura locked shut like a steel trap.

Being Batman kinda seemed like it sucked so far, and Bruce hadn’t even been a high school hero. Guess being an adult didn’t really make everything easier after all.

The smile he shot Danny didn’t show any of the inner turmoil though, so kudos there.

“It was great, actually. Your godfather is a very charming man,” he added, and Danny stuck his tongue out.

“Oh we’re so not calling him that. He’s just Vladdie, nothing to do with me at all,” he corrected vehemently, making a face.

Checked his phone.

‘DannyP: ABORT ABORT ABORT MISSION HE LIKES VLAD 😡🤮😱’

Bruce made a curious noise beside him, and Danny huffed. There were some things that would have been simpler if Vlad had just been brain washing him.

“Oh? He speaks very highly of you, Danny. I’m a little surprised you don’t get along.” The big guy was clearly fishing, and Danny would give him something to catch alright.

“Yeah? Cuz all he’s ever said to me was that I’m weak, lazy, unmotivated, and will never amount to anything without him. Oh, and that he wants to kill my dad and marry my mom,” he added as an afterthought.

And watched Bruce from the corner of his eye. He looked honestly surprised, but Danny had already learned not to judge from his face.

He felt surprised too though. Surprised and suspicious.

‘JTodd: He’s a great judge of character.’

Fuck it was hard not to laugh at his just flawless acting when Danny had the cheat sheet into his heart.

They drove in silence for a block, Bruce apparently not sure what to say, and Danny gave him a pat on the elbow.

“Don’t feel bad. I dunno what he’s playing at either, but he’s really, really good at telling people what they want to hear.”

And didn’t that do some interesting things to the guy’s aura. Danny had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from laughing.

No matter what he fucking said, it seemed to be convincing Bruce that he was sketchier and sketchier.

‘DannyP: okay but literally every word i say’s making him more and more suspicious and he didn’t even get whammied this is bs 😔😒💔’

He did kinda regret that one pretty much immediately, a sudden wave of protective anger pulsing through his aura.

Making a face again, he focused on wrapping Jason up in his own, soothing him with gentle reminders safe-safe-i’m fine-not hurting me.

Yeah, there were some fucking Issues with a capital I that Danny deadass just wasn’t gonna touch until Jazz got a look in.

No matter what though, he didn’t fucking like what it told him about Bruce. About Jason’s relationship with Bruce.

Maybe he shoulda brought the Fenton thermos. He usually had one on him, but his suit hadn’t come with pockets you could hide a thermos in.

For all Sam bitched about her dress, she coulda carried a rocket launcher and no one would have known.

He was so busy focusing on Jason he didn’t actually notice that Bruce was talking to him again until the man had repeated his name a couple of times, now sounding worried.

Feeling suspicious. Sounding worried.

“Danny?”

Danny shook his head, hair flopping around his face and half his attention still on Jason’s cranky ass.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” he said still half distracted, and felt the suspicion ramp up another notch.

For all that he couldn’t laugh aloud, wrapping the desire and the need to laugh around Jason seemed to be helping. He settled enough to text back anyway.

‘JTodd: Sorry. Probably my fault.’

Well that was bullshit.

“I said I’m sorry, Danny. He mentioned you had a difficult past, but I had no idea…”

And yeah, that probably was too. Easy to prioritise though.

‘DannyP: ur gonna be Jazz’s final psych project if u keep that up and i will not save u 😤🫡👻’

‘DannyP: 🖕💋he’s a grown ass adult and so am i and i can be a sketchy bitch just fine on my own sir’

And since Bruce was going to take whatever he did as suspicious anyway, Danny might as well get him warmed up for Harley.

“Yeah, well, don’t go throwing a public party to all of high society about it. Trust me, I do not need a second creepy billionaire trying to make me a show pony.”

Another block of silence, but Danny was satisfied that this one was at least less certain. Felt like a big decision was afoot.

Finally Bruce sighed and deflated, and for once his aura matched the gesture.

“It was a mistake, wasn’t it?” It almost wasn’t a question. Danny figured that progress deserved a reward anyway. Kinda.

“Well again, Harley Quinn came back from the Amazon to kick your ass about it, so yes. I think we can both agree that was a bad life choice.”

Bruce’s grip tensed on the steering wheel a little and Danny relented. Fuck him for being a softie.

Even when he was also still kinda pissed, it was hard to ignore the sudden doubt, fear, guilt suddenly stinking up the car.

The anger, much more familiar. Danny knew exactly what to do about angry people, but Bruce’s anger felt a little too familiar. A little too internal-only.

“He said you’d never told him you were sorry before, man. Not even once until you shoved him right into the spotlight. What does it say that you can say it to me but not him?” He asked softly.

Bruce was quiet for most of the rest of the drive, but since he actually seemed to be thinking about what Danny had said, Danny left him to it.

It was as they were finally pulling up to the gates of Wayne Manor that he spoke again.

“I may not have been much of a father to Jason, but I won’t see him hurt again. Not if I can help it.” There wasn’t actually any menace in the tone.

Just a stone cold certainty that was way, way scarier.

Well. Probably for anyone who wasn’t the actual ghost king. Or just uncontrollably sarcastic.

Danny grinned.

“Well if this is gonna be your shovel talk, you should be aware that I’ve already been six feet under. It takes a lot to scare me,” he teased, resting his bare feet on the console in front of him.

Outside, the gate swung slowly open. Bruce took advantage of the pause to stare directly at him again, those blue eyes suddenly piercing and not even trying to hide the intelligence within.

“Noted.”

And okay. Maybe Danny needed to invest in some more one liners, cuz that was way fucking cooler than any complicated threat or pun.

Kinda hated how cool it was, actually.

He let just a little of the eldritch creep into the smile he gave back.

“Oh, and Bruce? Samesies. Seems like Jason has a lot more people who have his back than he thinks he does, but now? He’s also got me. And Harley’s probably the nice one.”

If the guy was going to think the fucking worst of Danny no matter what, might as well use that to try and make him be a less shitty dad.

Shovel talking the Ghost King? That took some balls.

Bruce didn’t seem to be noticeably intimidated though. Just stared at Danny for a long moment, eyes narrowed, before he nodded again.

“You don’t know Harley well,” he remarked dryly, heading on up the ridiculously long driveway to the house.

Danny didn’t actually manage to pull all the way back into human tones before he laughed, the shadows stretching and creaking around the sound.

“Yeah, fair point.” He sure as shit wouldn’t argue it where she could hear him after all.

**

It took Steph to finally bring the conversation back around to the thermos.

They’d moved on to telling Harley the actual details of what had happened at the gala, from Bruce’s crimes to Sam and Danny’s.

Harley was absolutely delighted by the whole story, and it was Steph who gave Sam a gentle nudge, grinning at her.

“Y’know, I never got around to asking why you even had that giant thermos. I was with you most of the night and I never saw you drinking from it?” She asked.

Sam chuckled softly, reaching into the deep pocket of Cass’s pants and pulling out the thermos in question. She always had one on her.

Tucker was supposed to as well, but if he knew she was gonna be there? Yeah, he tended to forget. Or save the space for something more interesting.

“Oh, this? Yeah this really isn’t a drinking thermos,” she explained, setting it on the table and sharing an amused glance with Tucker.

Maybe side eying Jason. It was gonna be a drinking thermos for him, poor bastard.

Steph’s eyebrows rose and she reached out, taking the thermos when Sam nodded her assent. Turning it over in her hands.

“Wait, so it’s strictly a combat thermos?” She asked like it was a joke, grinning at Sam as she unscrewed the lid.

Tucker stifled a laugh from across the table and Sam grinned back, leaning back in her chair. The table had been cleared of dinner by now, but dessert they’d wait on Bruce and Danny for.

Speaking of Danny…

“Actually, yeah. The Fenton Thermos is pretty much our best tool for the rogue attacks we get in Amity Park,” she explained with a modest shrug.

Steph looked even more surprised, hefting the unexpected weight of what looked like an empty thermos.

“It made a pretty good throwing weapon,” Dick offered from the end of the table. Tucker snickered and shook his head, holding out a hand to Steph.

“It’s not actually meant to be for throwing, but that definitely worked,” he agreed, gesturing for the thermos.

Turning it to show the table, Tucker pointed to the big green button on the side. The big, obvious green button that you could pretty easily press by accident.

“You can capture ghosts with it once they’ve been weakened, and then Danny lets them out back in the Ghost Zone. It doesn’t actually hurt them, but apparently it’s not comfortable.”

“How do you know, if it only catches ghosts?” Duke asked, a slight frown on his face and he leaned forward to see around Tim.

Tucker shot him a smug grin, twirling the thermos and passing it back to Sam. Clearly enjoying his time in the spotlight, and Sam wouldn’t begrudge him that.

Not when she could bully him about showing off for his new boyfriend later. It was kinda cute watching that hero worship turning into an actual proper crush.

Cuter that Tim was being just an average guy, and Tucker was still losing his shit over it. Sweet revenge for all those times the boys teased her about her crush on Val.

“Well, for one thing pretty much all of our ghosts have stopped trying to attack these days, and some of them are actually pretty chill? Buuuut you can also use it to catch half ghosts,” Tucker explained with a smug grin.

Sam chuckled, taking the cap back from Steph and screwing it back on.

“Danny says it’s like being squished into a really tight sleeping bag. Worse if someone else is in there with him, but they can’t really move or fight in there.”

“If someone’s been a real pain in the ass sometimes Danny keeps them in Soup Time for a week or so as punishment,” Tucker added, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms behind his head.

“Isn’t that unethical?” Dick asked, down beside Damian, and Sam raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, do the people you arrest only get locked up for a day or so?” She asked dryly and Dick grinned, raising both hands.

“They don’t get locked in really tight sleeping bags. But what happens after they’re let out? They just go back in the Ghost Zone?” He prodded, not quelled by her stare this time.

Good. More fun when people fought back. And, for a cop, Dick wasn’t really all that bad.

He’d probably get fired for that pretty soon.

Sam shrugged, taking over the explanation for now and tucking the thermos back into her pocket.

“Pretty much. Most of the ghosts pretty much just showed up to fight Phantom and the trouble they caused around town was part of that.”

“Phantom being Danny’s superhero name?” Tim asked, looking extremely covetously at where the thermos had disappeared under the table.

Sam stuck her hand in the top of the pocket, keeping it on the lid of the thermos. They didn’t exactly have enough to spare.

Of course Tucker swept in when his boytoy had a question.

“Yeah, that’s him. The town used to call him Inviso-Bill until he actually told someone to call him Phantom instead,” he added, snickering.

Sam couldn’t resist chuckling along; honestly, if she ever learned who’d started that nickname she’d send them flowers. It was fucking priceless.

“Yeah. There were some rowdier ghosts, usually when their Obsessions got triggered, but honestly? Once they were beaten most of them settled down. It was just the ones that wanted to brawl with Danny that kept coming back.”

“We didn’t really have anything else to do with them either,” Tucker pointed out with a snicker, shaking his head, “it was Soup Time, back home, or the Fenton family dissection table.”

Their hosts looked suitably disturbed at that, Harley leaning in from her end of the table to be the voice of the room.

“The Fenton family what the fuck? Didn’t ya say the kid was a Fenton?” She asked sharply.

Sam ran a quick mental check of the list Danny had cleared them to talk about. Yeah, the Fenton parents were on it.

Just not the Ghost King stuff, anything about Jason, and anything specific about Ellie. No worries there.

She shrugged again, fingers tapping on the table. From her guess and Jason’s texting, Danny should be back soon.

“The Fenton parents were the ones who made a portal to the Ghost Zone in the first place. They were really interested in dissecting and studying any ghosts they could catch for a long time,” she explained dryly, not bothering to hide her feelings on the matter.

Duke looked a little sick. Maybe she should tone it down some, for the young and innocent among them.

“But that’d include Danny,” Dick pointed out, suspicion rising towards horror.

Sam fixed her gaze on him, not letting him look away.

“Yeah. It did. Which is why the three of us spent our high school years fighting ghosts and protecting the town in secret, cuz if we told anyone we thought Danny would go on the table.”

“They totally took it way better than we thought though,” Tucker tacked on quickly, searching something up on his PDA, probably for pictures of the GAV. “They’re Phantom’s biggest fans now.”

He tilted the screen to show Tim, whose jaw dropped.

Yeah, to be fair, words didn’t do the GAV’s new paint job justice. Tucker passed the tablet on to Tim to show Duke and Harley, and it made its way around the table.

They were probably running out of time.

Sam leaned in, catching the attention of the rest of the table and making eye contact with most of them.

“Some basic etiquette though, before Danny gets back? You never, ever ask a ghost how they died. They might bring it up, but you don’t ask. Okay?”

“Wait, why not?” Tim asked, his brows furrowing as he turned back to her. “Isn’t that the first thing they do in all those ghost hunting shows?”

Which. Well. Sam had a whole special rant about ghost hunting shows and their bullshit, but before she got started Jason cut her off.

“Cuz dying fucking sucks, Timmy. Do you wanna bug Steph or Dick about the times they died?” He asked pointedly, and Tim flushed.

Yeah, that kinda explained the death taint Sam could just about taste from half the table. She wasn’t going to mention it, because she had some damn manners.

Tim seemed to have gotten the point though, stammering a quick apology and sinking back into his seat. Tucker gave him a conciliatory pat on the shoulder.

“Pretty much the first thing you gotta learn about real ghosts is that ghost hunters have no idea what they’re doing. They don’t even ecto infuse their tech,” he added with a derisive snort.

Sam rolled her eyes, stifling a grin. Alfred had disappeared, which probably meant Danny was imminent.

“Harder to do without a ghost or half ghost on your team, Tuck. But more to the point, do you guys wanna see the Fenton Thermos in action?” She asked innocently, pulling it back out of her pocket to wiggle.

Once again, Harley spoke for the table.

“Hell yeah. Are ya gonna throw it at Brucie again too?” She asked brightly, and Sam paused, considering.

Finally sighed and shook her head.

“Probably not. I’ll let you handle him,” she decided, smirking as Harley reached back down for her trusty bedazzled bat.

“That’s what the ol’ Therapy Bat’s for,” Harley agreed brightly, getting to her feet. She’d clearly clocked Alfred’s exit too. And the approaching sets of footsteps.

Sam grinned and readied the thermos.

**

Bruce had almost forgotten that Harley would be waiting until Danny reminded him. An unusual lapse for him, but he had a lot on his mind.

The only thing he wanted to do was get down to the cave and talk to Constantine; to finally get some answers, both on what had gone wrong in Amity Park and precisely what was keeping them out now.

He had the very tiniest bit of hope that one question might also hold the answer to the other; that it was perhaps something Constantine had done, or could undo.

He did not like having to rely on biased secondary sources for data. It was frustrating to run into so many dead ends.

Luckily for him though, Danny had reminded him, which meant he could take Harley aside, find out what she wanted, and get it dealt with instead of going straight to the cave and being surprised.

As little as he liked John Constantine, he wouldn’t subject the man to Harley if he could help it. Harley was something of a kryptonite to many of the magicians; she broke their rules in ways they couldn’t reconcile.

Bruce absolutely did not doubt Zatanna that Harley had temporarily sold herself to a demon prince and within 24 hours annoyed him so much that he gave her back, deal intact.

She was a force to be reckoned with. And privately… Bruce would hang up the cowl if Constantine decided he wanted to give her methods a try on top of his own.

No. Best keep them as far away from each other as possible.

So he was accompanying Danny and Alfred to the family dining room, where he’d collect Harley and take her to his office.

Half an hour to get through whatever she wanted, and then he could go down and talk to Constantine. The perfect plan.

Part of him hoped that Danny had been right, and she was here to explain what he’d done wrong with Jason.

Bruce would be the first to admit that he just… couldn’t seem to do right when it came to his second son.

He loved Jason dearly, but his death was something Bruce had never gotten over. He’d seen Jason so many times, as he died and as Bruce imagined he’d have grown over those years.

It had been hard for him to believe Jason really was himself, even if he looked nothing like Bruce had always expected. He’d always been so small.

No. He’d refused to believe it. Refused to believe the kind, loving boy he’d known could have become this large and angry killer.

It had coloured their relationship ever since. The things Jason had done, the things Bruce had done to stop him.

The fury with which Jason had forced his real identity down Bruce’s throat until he couldn’t deny it anymore. The one person he thought he could never let down again.

Jason was calmer now. Had a lid on the rage, and just plain walked away when he was on the edge of his control. Bruce admired that, as much as he could.

The only thing Bruce knew how to do with his emotions was push them aside and try to keep soldiering on, and it had cost his family so many times.

He’d thought he was getting better, but when it came to Jason… Bruce knew he still wasn’t thinking clearly. He’d upset Jason at the gala, he knew he had.

He’d seen it in his face, even if Jason had covered it before reaching the stage. He just wasn’t sure how.

Bruce prided himself on his ability to read faces. He was certainly no Cass, but it was his most used skill. Jason’s had never been a mystery to him before.

But somehow all Bruce could see in the older Jason’s face was the shadows of the bruises, the beating that face had worn the last time Bruce held him in his arms.

Cold. Lifeless. A death mask that only ever seemed to clear under Lazarus green rage.

He didn’t know when his baby boy had become so unreadable to him. What part of the horrors which Jason had lived through had made him put on a mask so thick Bruce couldn’t see through it.

And he was afraid to ask. Afraid of what he might see under that mask, and afraid to hear everything Jason had been put through because of Bruce’s failure.

He could have asked Danny in the car. At least where he’d gone wrong last night. They’d been alone, without anyone to overhear. And yet…

Bruce couldn’t bring himself to trust Danny. Oddly he found himself liking the boy more since Danny had threatened him, but his doubts remained.

Vlad had been personable, charming, and open during their meal together, and Bruce knew all too well how vile men could put on a front like that.

Normally he would have trusted Danny’s impression of Vlad over his own implicitly; it was part of the reason he brought his children to galas.

Brucie Wayne was too well known, too powerful, too influential. No one wanted to show him anything but their best, the sides they thought he would like to see.

The truest measure of a person came in the way they treated those they saw as beneath them, and for most adults that would automatically always include children.

Danny’s words tracked with the odd moments of quiet regret in Masters’ face when he talked about his godson. Far more egregious than the “misunderstandings” he’d hinted at, but a testament nonetheless.

There had been no trace of a lie in Danny’s voice or face. And yet.

There was no fear either. Not a trace of concern at being alone in the room together before Bruce returned.

None of the wariness one would naturally expect when a young man faced a much older adult who had at the very least made serious threats towards his family and possibly psychologically abused him.

It didn’t make sense. There was no right or wrong way to respond to an abuser, but Danny’s open antagonism of Vlad pointed at something else. A piece Bruce was still missing of what passed between them.

There were too many unanswered questions about Danny Fenton, and the situation with Jason was too delicate to rely on a single unknown factor.

No.

Danny may take advantage of any perceived weakness to steer him wrong, push him to another mistake, widen the rift between Bruce and his son.

It wasn’t safe. Wasn’t the plan.

For all that she’d been a rogue, Bruce trusted Harley implicitly… at least in matters of the heart. On the off chance she was there for anything else, he could still ask her before she left.

Maybe after he was done with Constantine.

Of course no one was around to give him answers when he had plenty of spare time on his hands. No, they had to come all at once.

Fine.

He may have to leave Jason with Danny for now, but they would hardly be unsupervised. The others would keep a watch for him while he got answers.

Bruce was actually beginning to feel pretty good about the evening by the time they reached the dining room.

And then the door opened, Danny walked through, and vanish in a blur of bright blue light.

Bruce threw up a hand to shield his eyes as light flashed across him, and it went dark a moment later.

Sam Manson was holding the thermos again (his head throbbed a warning), screwing the lid back on with a satisfied smirk.

Danny Fenton was gone. Just gone. Like he’d never been there, until.

“I fucking hate you so much.”

That was Danny’s voice, no doubt about it, coming from… the thermos.

What.

As Steph would say.

The fuck.

**

Harley was the first to recover her voice, throwing both hands into the air and whooping.

“Now THAT is what I call a party trick! You kids ever wanna come out Coney Island way ya can stay with me an’ take a turn at th’ Freakshow if ya want!”

The room froze, temperature actually plummeting as the Amity Parkers both flinched.

(Danny mighta also flinched but he was in a soup thermos, it was harder to tell.)

Tucker spoke up, making a face and exchanging a look with Sam.

“Uh… pass, thanks. Had some pretty bad experiences with clowns and circuses,” he explained, and Harley nodded understandingly.

No matter how much he liked to pretend he was, Joker was hardly the first asshole to wear the face paint.

It was why she didn’t wear hers if she was gonna be anywhere around Jason.

Not like she’d liked the full face stuff Joker did anyway. She could have a lot more fun with eyeshadow and a little lipstick, but some people needed to be terrified.

Harley Quinn’s war paint was satisfyingly terrifying enough that she’d pull it out for special occasions.

“Yeah, that’s fair,” she agreed easily, noted the air began to warm.

So it was one of them doing it. And from the way the two she could see relaxed just after, she’d put her money on Danny. Made sense with the ghost thing.

Anyway, she’d come here for a reason. Strolling casually over towards Brucie, she ruffled a hand through Jason’s and then Sam’s hair.

“Yer all still welcome to come visit though, just call ahead an’ I’ll tell the crew to put the theatrics on hold. I got a whole floor full of puppies and kittens that need some love,” she told them cheerfully.

And paused at a sudden horrible ripping sound, like part of the universe had been velcro and just pulled itself apart.

A glowing green hole opened just behind Sam’s chair and Danny’s head poked through, just a little below Harley’s height.

“You have a fucking what?”

She ruffled his hair too, grinning.

“Yeah, building I inherited had a free floor my aunt used ta rent, I didn’t want anyone upsettin’ my crew and all these lil cuties were just wasting away at the pound so Ivy did me up an indoor park. There’s about thirty of ‘em,” she explained brightly.

Sam snickered, settling comfortably in her turned chair.

“Bet cleaning up after that many is a treat,” she commented dryly and Harley tipped her a wink.

“It’s no trouble! I do the scoopin’ and once a week we load the big bags up on th’ roof catapult and shoot ‘em into the city. At the mayor’s house if he’s bein’ trouble.”

“Harley, I have a theory about who might want you gone,” Duke put in from the other end of the table, all dry sarcasm.

Harley laughed and blew him a kiss, giving her bat a lazy twirl.

“Hey, if he wants me ta stop all he’s gotta do is stop bein’ a pain in my ass an’ I’ll shoot ‘em at the dump,” she told him cheerfully, then turned back to Danny.

Back in the black hair. Didn’t seem like it mattered if he was actively a ghost or not gettin’ sucked inta the thermos. Interesting.

“You need a tow out?” She asked, other hand dropping back to his hair to give a gentle tug.

Danny gave her a slightly suspicious look.

“Do you promise no mind control or creepy clown shit?” He asked warily, and Harley loosed her grip to pat him on the cheek.

“Pinky promise, suga. I’m about to go give Brucie ‘is own private dose of scary clown shit that I’m sure he’ll completely understand that he wants to be in private,” she added more pointedly, giving Bruce a sharp look over her shoulder.

Behind her, Danny shrugged and pulled the rest of his body through the green rip, giving Sam a smack upside the head as his feet touched the floor and snatching the thermos from her.

“Confiscated til you’ll only use it’s power responsibly,” he told her, sticking his tongue out and dropping down into his seat, thermos held preventatively back and over his head.

Which made it all too easy for Jason to reach up and grab it from him, tucking it into the front of his hoodie pocket when Danny whipped around indignantly.

“You’re not responsible either,” Jason pointed out smugly and Danny sputtered but didn’t quite find words to argue.

They were fucking adorable.

If she didn’t have ta go try and beat the sense back inta Brucie’s head she’d have the time of her life just pinching their cheeks and winding them up about what to her studied eye was a pair of oblivious fresh forming crushes.

Young love was just the cutest when it was in that awkward blushy denial phase.

Yeah, Brucie was getting an extra whap for tearing her away from that.

Turning back to the big man, she prodded her bat into the center of his chest.

“So! Whaddaya think, big guy? Wanna give a nice big public apology for ya fuck up or shall we go talk somewhere in private?” She asked firmly, emphasizing those last words into a threat.

Bruce’s attention snapped away from glaring at Danny and Jason to fix on her, clearly analyzing her words. Of all the hopeless little shits…

She was gonna find someone to get him his proper diagnosis. Had to at this point.

Couldn’t be her, she was technically a conflict of interest, but holy fuck the man screamed emotional disregulation with a hefty side of autism spectrum.

At least he’d know what direction he needed help in, as if he wouldn’t promptly ignore any advice that included “talk about ya damn feelings”. Too bad for him.

She gave him another firm poke with the bat and he nodded sharply, gaze snapping from her around to the door.

His shoulders settled just a little, posture relaxing in what she knew was relief as he motioned for her to follow. Still looked tense as hell, but she’d probably only get a dime back for bouncing a nickel off him now.

That was real relaxed for Brucie.

Maybe he was finally self aware enough to accept that he needed some help with all the emotional stuff.

Good. Maybe she’d only do one kneecap.

**

As Harley followed Bruce out of the room, Sam’s phone began buzzing dramatically in her pocket. Abandoning her quest for the thermos, she pulled it out and glanced down.

Grinned wickedly. She’d been expecting this for a while now actually.

“Aw, look, my parents saw our selfies on Twitter,” she cooed sarcastically, Manson Party Voice making a brief return.

Danny scooted just a little away from the still buzzing phone.

“So are you gonna get that?” He asked as Alfred brought him a perfectly reheated plate. “What? Oh, thanks.”

Sam shrugged, hit speakerphone, and set it on the table. They’d posted those pictures pretty much solely for the incoming reaction.

“Hey mom, what’s up?” She said sweetly, still in her public facing voice.

Her mother did not sound nearly as composed.

“SAMANTHA. Where ARE you?! What are you wearing?! Where are your clothes and WHY, in the name of all that’s good, are you anywhere near HARLEY QUINN?! Have you been kidnapped?!”

Sam rolled her eyes hard enough that Tucker faked a fatal injury across the table. She flipped him off as Tim and Duke stifled laughs.

“Yes, mother, I have been kidnapped and just answered my phone completely normally. I’m at the Waynes’,” she added quickly, before her mother could jump to conclusions.

And gave her some new conclusions to jump to instead, but who cared. Still, something seemed to be sticking in her mom’s mind.

“With Harley Quinn?” She asked suspiciously after a moment’s silence.

Which, to be fair, was kind of a good point.

“Apparently she’s a family friend? Like Grandma and Ivy,” Sam added delicately, a vicious satisfaction rising through her.

She’d gotten to say her piece at the gala yesterday and had thought she was done, but. Well. Years of restriction and so on.

She was definitely still having fun winding her parents up.

Her mom’s sharp intake of breath was clearly audible even over the phone, and then the shouting started again.

“Samantha MANSON do not even THINK about going anywhere with that woman! You have responsibilities! School! Your work! We’re coming to pick you up RIGHT NOW, and… where are your CLOTHES?!”

Alfred cleared his throat from behind them, where he’d stayed from delivering Danny’s dinner. Sam half turned and he raised a brow, inclining his head slightly.

She scooted her chair out of the way to let him get closer to the phone, waving a hand in open invitation.

“If I may interject,” Alfred said calmly, not a trace that anything was even slightly amiss, “the young lady’s clothes are in the dryer at present. They will be finished shortly.”

Another long silence. Her mom probably realizing that Sam had her on speaker. And that she would still be on speaker the next time she spoke.

Finally she choked out a terse, “thank you. I do hope she has been behaving herself. We will be there to pick you up in half an hour, Sammy, and we will Have Words.”

Which Sam kinda doubted, given where the hotel was and how long it had taken Danny and Bruce to get back, but time would tell.

At least they weren’t hiring a helicopter.

It sucked to have to leave, but she’d have needed to head out soon anyway. Her flight back to university would be leaving this evening, and at least this way she could hang out with the others until her parents arrived.

No reason not to needle them more though.

“Aw but mom, I’m having such a good time hanging out with Cass,” she sighed, switching from Party to Heartfelt Woe expertly.

Down beyond Jason, Cass stifled a giggle. It clearly sent Sam’s mom into another spiral of conflicting emotions; delight, hope, ecstasy, and ongoing horror at the presence of Harley.

Who, technically, was no longer present in the room, but telling her mom that would only make her feel better, so Sam wasn’t gonna bother.

Honestly, if she wanted to run away and be an ecoterrorist with Pamela Isley, she could just ask Grandma to text her. She didn’t need kidnapping.

Still, apparently the risk of a close contact with Poison Ivy outweighed her mom’s desire to see her cozy up with the Waynes.

It’d have been real sweet if it had been a worry for Sam’s health instead of a worry about what Sam would do to other peoples’ health. The lack of trust stung, truly.

“We’ll be there in half an hour, Sammy. Get your clothes back on and say thank you for having you,” her mom warned, tone sharp and clipped.

And then hung up the phone before anyone could argue, because while she never used to listen to Sam before, she did somehow still know her. Ah well.

Sam sighed, stuffing the phone back into her borrowed pocket.

“Guess my parole has ended. I’ve gotta get back for my next semester anyway, but you have my number?” She asked Steph, looking from her back to Cass.

Both women nodded enthusiastically, Steph sighing and slumping forward into the table.

“Do you really have to go? Harley probably won’t be done with Brucie by then, you’ll miss the best part!”

But in all honesty, Sam wasn’t too upset about that. She’d made her feelings perfectly clear via thermos, and if Jason wasn’t satisfied with Bruce’s real apology she could always come back.

So she shrugged, grinning.

“Guess it’s my turn to get the video recap once it’s all over. You guys’ll film it for me, right?” She asked, looking from Danny to Tucker.

Both of whom gave her a thumbs up.

“We should make a new group chat,” Tucker mused eagerly, already pulling his phone up, “one for all of us.”

“Then we’d know which galas you were coming to!” Steph agreed at once, her own phone magically appearing in hand.

Dick snickered, leaning back in his seat.

“Said like Steph’s ever let Bruce drag her to one against her will,” he teased and Steph flipped him off.

“Hey, if you’d had the good sense not to let him adopt you you wouldn’t have to do them either,” Steph told him primly. Dick rolled his eyes.

“I’m his ward, not adopted,” he argued mostly futilely, and Sam snickered.

“And still have to go apparently. Doesn’t the ward thing end once you’re a legal adult?” She asked innocently.

Dick gave her a deadpan stare.

“Ma’am, if you want to try and wrest an orphan from the hands of Bruce Wayne you be my fucking guest, I gave up years ago.”

Which, fair. Their rifts had been legendary enough to make the circuit. She toasted him with her phone and settled back.

“Point taken. If being a cop didn’t make him give you up nothing will,” she added slyly, and Dick mimed grievous injury, slumping forward onto the table as the others laughed.

Grinning her triumph, Sam turned back to Alfred.

“So if you just show me where the laundry room is I can grab my clothes?” She offered, trying yet again to be helpful.

Being from a rich family didn’t mean having no damn manners, no matter how often it looked like it.

The old man gave her another of his extremely arch expressions, an eyebrow rising as if to question her impertinence. He had to be fucking with her.

“I shall bring your clothes to the downstairs bathroom on this hall when they are done so that you may change, Miss Manson,” he said coolly.

She’d never heard anything like it.

It didn’t sound like he was upset or offended the way people usually did when their voices iced over that sharply. Just… not an ounce of wiggle room.

Not a sliver of a hint that anything he was saying would not happen exactly as he’d decreed it. He sounded more imperious than a king, and she’d seen those.

Sam kinda imagined that’d be what Clockwork would sound like if she ever met the guy.

Duke misinterpreted her decidedly impressed stare with a wry chuckle, apparently misinterpreting her expression.

Fair, since he couldn’t know she was comparing him to the living manifestation of Time.

Well. Ghostly manifestation. Same difference.

“Miss Manson’s probably the best you’ll get out of him,” Duke said almost apologetically, grinning. “It’s gonna be that or Miss Samantha.”

Which admittedly was enough to make her turn to face him, curiosity peaked.

“What do you mean?” She asked, glancing back up at Alfred.

She couldn’t read anything but serenity in his face, but mild amusement practically radiated off him. She’d have to ask Danny what he saw in his aura.

Dick took this one too, sitting back in his seat and grinning at her.

“Alfie’s serious about the whole “proper titles and full names” thing. I’ve been trying for almost twenty years to make him call me “Dick”, and I think he’d be slower to give that up than Bruce’d be to unadopt me,” he explained cheerfully, arm tossed over the back of his chair.

Alfred treated him to a slowly raised eyebrow too.

“As you say, Master Richard,” he agreed placidly and Sam pressed her lips together on a smile.

She didn’t have to turn around to know exactly what face Danny would be making. The last thing he needed was another scary old man full naming him.

And right on cue…

“Uh… can I specifically request Mister Fenton then?” Danny asked and sure enough when she turned, yup, he even had his hand in the air like a child.

Alfred treated him to that calm stare as well.

“May I ask why, Mister Daniel?” He asked, clearly prodding despite every line of both face and posture oozing nothing but polite respect.

Danny fully flinched, which was interesting. He barely reacted whenever Vlad said his name.

Sam adjusted her opinion of Alfred along a couple “scarier than Vlad” levels.

“I have name-related trauma from another billionaire who refuses to call me anything but that,” Danny admitted sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It’s a really not-fun association.”

“Vlad again?” Tim asked from across the table, sounding sympathetic.

Danny pulled a face at him, sort of grimacing more than a smile.

“Oh yeah. And let’s just say he also does it in super bad situations, so I’d be happier to just never hear it again.”

Sam peaked back over her shoulder at Alfred, wondering what he’d do with this news.

If Danny was gonna be a fixture in Jason’s life (and let’s be honest, he’d be a fixture in Jason’s bedroom by the end of the month), and Jason was a fixture in Alfred’s… they’d see more of each other.

Everyone knew Bruce had been basically raised by Alfred. If he was half as emotionally constipated…

But there was an actual human expression on the old man’s face now, and it looked a damn sight like shame. He cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him.

“My apologies, Mister Fenton. Would you perhaps prefer Mister Danny?” He asked, which would have seemed completely innocuous on its own.

Dick slammed both fists into the table, making half the table burst into giggles.

“Fucking SERIOUSLY?! Is it just me! This is bullshit Alfie!” He declared dramatically.

Tim looked equally gobsmacked, jaw on the proverbial floor as he stared at Alfred, and even Steph looked put out and impressed.

Danny, deeply confused but relieved, stuck his tongue out at Dick.

“Hey, if you want another overly possessive and creepy billionaire determined to control your life you’re welcome to take him off my hands,” he declared smugly, and Sam snorted a laugh.

There was a decided devilry in young Damian’s face too, which vanished almost immediately after it appeared as the youngest spoke up.

“Honestly, Richard, you must admit that Danny’s situation is decidedly more grave than your own,” he said simply, a strong undercurrent of smugness under the words.

Tim threw both hands into the air so hard he almost tipped his chair over.

“Him too?! Come the fuck ON!” He proclaimed to the world at large as Duke snorted half a glass of water out of his nose in a choked laugh.

Tim gave him a hearty slap on the back that was probably supposed to help, the younger boy still wheezing and gasping for air, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge him.

There was clearly something of an inside joke going on, and it wasn’t exactly a complicated one.

Danny had already settled back in his seat, perfectly happy with the consternation he’d caused, and Sam joined him.

Watching the dramatics of the extended Wayne clan was even better at home than it had been at the gala. For a show this good, she’d have bought tickets.

**

As she closed the office door behind her, Harley took a moment to give Bruce another, slower once over.

It had been a while since she saw him last, and between what Selina had told her and what the kids told her, she wanted a read on his headspace.

He looked… well, like he had a stick up his ass a mile high, but that was pretty much default for him when he wasn’t being Brucie. Never learned how to take a breath, that guy.

But from the way he moved straight to his desk, not even pausing to see if she shut the door before dropping into his seat, she’d put money on “tired”.

Not just regular nightlife tired either, if he showed it this easily. Freshly shaved, dressed immaculately, face done up with minimal but flattering makeup.

He’d put himself together pretty today, but something was cracking underneath.

Once she was satisfied she’d gotten the big picture, she sauntered after him and hopped up to sit on his desk, foot pressed firmly to the middle of his chest to go for the details.

“So, Brucie, do ya know why I’m here?” She asked expectantly. It’d tell her a lot about where they were starting from; it was hard to fool the big bat, and none of ‘em had been trying.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at her foot, but wisely didn’t move to touch it. Clever boy. He might win a physical fight if they got serious, but he also knew she was damn good at what she did.

If they threw down, she wouldn’t be helping him untwist that mess in his head. And he wouldn’t be walking away unscathed either.

No good with some fresh heroes who weren’t in on the Secret around. She could assume he’d made the calculations, but none of them showed. And wouldn’t it be nice if he hadn’t needed to?

Instead he sighed, leaning further back in his chair and rubbing both hands down his face.

Harley adjusted her estimate from “tired” to “fucking exhausted”. Not a good sign.

“I hope it has something to do with Selina texting you last night about the gala,” was all he said though, cryptic fuck.

Harley pushed with her toes just enough to make the chair roll back.

“Specifically, Brucie. If you can tell me what ya did wrong I’ll make it easier on you,” she teased, waving her bat playfully.

Like they didn’t both know the real damage would be with her words. Bruce preferred the bat though. In all ways, which, ha! She could still rock a killer joke.

He gave her one of his grouchy bat glares too, then slumped. Practically pre-broken. Something had to be up.

“I gave a speech. I… apologized to Jason for not being there when he…” he trailed off and Harley nodded, willing to accept that. Hard topics, and not one they’d discuss today.

Not that she wasn’t waiting with baited breath for Bruce to FINALLY decide he wanted to unload some o’ that trauma. But hey, baby steps.

He looked back up a second later, the mask gone as he met her eyes. He looked agonized.

For Bruce, anyway. Perfectly normal to anyone who didn’t really know how he ticked. But those lines around his eyes, the tension in his jaw?

Harley knew. From watching him when he’d thought he’d failed long ago, and from comforting him when one of the kids got hurt more recently.

“He looked like he’d seen a ghost, Harley. I’ve never seen him so shaken.”

Which Harley did have to bite back an entirely inappropriate laugh at. Jason looked preeeeetty happy to be canoodling with an actual ghost in the dining room right now.

She kept it on lock though. Totally professional.

Honestly, she was a little impressed Bruce had noticed. Jason was infamously his blind spot.

Humming softly she nodded slowly, fingers drumming along the shaft of the bat as she regarded him.

“And why do you think he did that, Bruce?” She prodded gently.

She was gonna have a check in with Jason later, not least for all the deets on his adorable new “friend”. Somewhere private, where the others couldn’t see.

But from what she’d seen tonight… Jason looked good. More relaxed, at ease with himself in a way that really tugged at her heart.

She hadn’t seen a lot of Jason since his return; she hadn’t stayed in Gotham long after breaking free of the Joker. But she’d come back when Selina called, and heard Waylon’s stories.

Of course he hadn’t come back as the happy, cheeky kid full of sunshine and magic. Even if he’d survived the warehouse he’d have changed.

The kid who’d cried at the thought of letting Bruce down so hard she’d foiled Joker’s plans herself so it wouldn’t happen… had been let down even more.

Even from a distance she’d read it in every inch of him; festering rage, pain, moving more like the big Bat than ever. Like his body was just a weapon he was barely connected to.

Like nothing else mattered but his mission, and he’d run on broken legs without even noticing. Like he didn’t think there was anything about him worth protecting.

(It may have factored into one of her own visits back to Arkham, even if Mister J had left her alone.)

The poor guy had been so full of anger ever since he came back, and for all that she’d been Joker’s when he died he’d never blamed her.

If anyone else on Earth knew what it was like to have your life torn to the ground by that bastard, to have nothing left even after you crawled away, it was Jason.

Harley wouldn’t have blamed him for hating her just as much as the clown himself, but he hadn’t. Not even full dark side. Not even that first time, Tim’s blood still on his suit.

He’d tensed to fight, admitted he’d heard about the big split, and believed her when she swore it was true. Even accepted her number, though he hadn’t called for almost a year.

They weren’t close, not like she was with the baby bats these days, but Harley worried about him.

There was something broken in Jason that still hadn’t healed, that he kept gashing himself on its sharp edges. Something that might finally be scabbing over.

So yeah, this was 1000% not the fucking time for Bruce to be all up in his bullshit.

At least he seemed to know that too, shaking his head and slumping forward against her foot so he could rest his head in his hands.

“I… I don’t know. I thought I could show him how sincere I was. Have witnesses who’d hold me to it. Not force him to be alone with me when it’s clearly not what he wants,” he admitted bitterly, shoulders slumping.

Harley let out another low hum, tracking every inch of his posture with alert eyes.

Yeah, that was true. Fucking stupid, especially from a guy as sharp as Brucie, but true. And fully consistent with his character.

Then she sighed, pushing him back upright, foot rising up almost to his collar to make him look at her.

“Did ya think about asking Jason what he wanted?” She asked dryly, fully aware of what the answer would be.

Watched Bruce’s face pinch in annoyance. Probably at himself, which would be good. Sometimes the answer literally was that easy.

He still shook his head, even if he didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“I thought…” he sighed again, running a hand through his hair, but didn’t try and hunch. “I didn’t think. I assumed he would see it the way I did.”

Which he’d clearly already noticed Jason hadn’t. Honestly, Harley was almost proud of the man. He wasn’t usually this emotionally aware.

No wonder he was exhausted. Lotta introspection, using all those brain muscles he abjectly refused to hone.

Harley nodded and crossed one leg over the other, switching out which foot kept Bruce pinned to his chair.

“It’s one helluva lot ta throw at someone in front of an audience, Brucie,” she agreed plainly, and watched with interest as that moment if irritation sharpened.

Almost pulled him back to bat face.

“You sound like Danny,” he grumbled, not actually arguing. Might have tried to cross his arms if her foot wasn’t in the way.

Harley wasn’t having any of it. She knew she’d liked the kid.

“Good, he’s got two braincells ta rub together. What’s more important: that people see you say you’re sorry, or how Jason feels?” She asked sharply, her patient tone evaporating.

To his credit, Bruce didn’t hesitate.

“Jason.” This, there was no question of. Good.

“And who knows best how Jason feels?” She pushed on, eyes narrowing when he hesitated.

“Don’t make me use the bat, Brucie,” she warned him, and Bruce sighed again, shaking his head.

“I know what you want me to say, Harley. But Jason… his emotions are unpredictable. Out of control. I doubt even he knows what they are half the time.”

Which, frankly, they weren’t going to get into at the moment, if ever. Jason’s emotional state was Jason’s business.

Harley fixed Bruce with an unimpressed stare, raising an eyebrow.

“Good thing I didn’t ask anyone to control it, huh? But who. Knows. How Jason feels.” It was barely a question anymore, the tapping of her bat against the desk more an empty threat.

She wasn’t against percussive maintenance, especially where Brucie was concerned; he responded better to violence than words half the time.

Kinda like he needed the stubbornness actually knocked out of him before he could listen. It was why she wouldn’t recommend him to any ol’ civilian friends still in the biz.

Not that they’d have appreciated her recommendation.

He stared her down for a moment, defiant even with the bat to hand. Harley let the other brow rise slowly and crossed her arms, leaning forward to lean on her knee.

Bruce could outstare a cat, but he couldn’t impress or intimidate her and he knew it.

He said nothing, still staring her down, and she could see where his brain had turned off and the stubbornness kicked in.

Fine. She’d played this game before, and she knew what he expected to come next.

Sometimes she even let him have it, a little rough and tumble so he could wrestle himself out of his head by wrestling her. But today, there were way more interesting things for her to do with her time.

Nothing short circuited a pattern of habit like the wrong response. Or a response that pulled up an older pattern.

Still staring him dead in the eye, she stuck her finger in her mouth, licked it wet, then leaned forward to shove it in his ear.

Bruce jerked back, hands almost rising defensively even as he made a disgusted face.

“Harley! Stop!” He protested, already losing a little of that stoic wall, and Harley grinned. It’d worked since they were Jason’s age in college and probably always would.

In his bat-suit, Bruce could take any torture, any indignity and never break. Without that cowl though, he was the same dweeb who’d joined the cheerleading squad with her because Harvey pouted.

It was really a very good thing she’d been on her way out of the rogue business before she cracked his identity, but since he’d always known hers he probably had plans against her.

He didn’t use them though, and she appreciated that, even as she licked her other finger fast and stuck it in his other ear.

“Say it, Brucie, or I’ll lick every pen in this office,” she threatened, watched a smile almost crack. And watched him sag, one of her wrists in each hand, his expression sobering.

Not closing off again though. Now his exhaustion was plain to see, along with the lingering sorrow and regret.

Looked like that little tussle would be enough for today. Probably.

“Jason knows what he’s feeling best. I am sorry, Harley. I never meant to hurt him,” he confessed almost in a whisper, and Harley let her own dramatics subside too.

It wasn’t what he needed anymore.

Hooking her foot in under the arm of the chair, she pulled him back in towards her.

“I know, kid. An’ lucky for you, Jason’s got a lotta people in his corner, and he’s a resilient boy. He’s gonna be alright.” His relationship with Bruce could only get so much worse, honestly.

No matter how the two disasters kept rubbing each other wrong, there was still love there. That was what had hurt Jason so much in the first place.

If he hadn’t loved Bruce, he wouldn’t care what the man thought of him. If he hadn’t thought Bruce loved him once, he wouldn’t care that the Joker lived.

Maybe one day she’d knock their heads together and make them talk it out.

Today, Bruce gave her a helpless look.

“I don’t even know how I hurt him, Harley. I should have asked, I know I put him on the spot, but I never thought… how can I stop if I don’t know what I’m doing wrong?”

Harley sighed softly, straightening back up and tugging her hands back easily, propping them on the desk behind her.

It was a tough one, not because the answer was hard, but because it’d be hard for Bruce. But he might finally be ready to hear it, if he’d done this much of the work without her.

“You know what I’m gonna tell you,” she prodded gently and didn’t push back when he pulled the chair in enough to brace his elbows on the desk on either side of her hips and bury his face in his hands.

Muffled the hell outta his voice, but she could still make out the words.

“Talk to him.” Which, yeah, she had a chuckle at the irony, petting mussed black hair.

“Yeah, yeah, the Bat’s one weakness, clear communication. But you don’t know Jason as well as ya think ya do, Brucie. He’s not the kid you brought home.”

He pushed up at that, frown on his face and mouth open to argue, and she placed a finger across it to shush him.

“I know ya think you know that. But he’s really, really not. And thinking ya still know him the same way is how you keep hurting each other.” She gentled her voice, kept it soft, but he still slumped like she’d punched him.

She went back to petting his hair. He preferred punching.

“Stop trying to surprise him. Ask what he wants. And if you can’t tell him how you feel…” she paused for a moment, let Bruce huff out the beginnings of a grumble, and chuckled softly.

No surprise there.

“Then try writing it down. Write him a letter, and keep it to yourself until you know what you want to say. As many as it takes, and toss ‘em right in the fire. And if ya still can’t say it aloud, hide one in yer underwear drawer or somewhere personal.”

That prompted him to look up again and Harley cocked a brow, grinning.

“What better way ta make one of your nosey lot read it?” She asked, grin settling to a smirk when Bruce’s lower lip slid out in a pout.

Not that fake pretty boy play one he did for cameras, the real Bruce Wayne Does Not Like You’re Right.

Catching it between forefinger and thumb she gave it a gentle tug.

“Seriously though. Try it. It’s easier than tryin’ ta improvise. And always, especially double important if yer gonna be in public, talk ta Jason first. No more surprises, or how’s ‘e gonna trust you?”

He knocked her hand away, but his eyes did that far off thing they always did when he was calculating, so she assumed he was taking it on board.

Finally he nodded, glanced at the clock, and frowned. Rigid mask falling back into place, her old classmate disappearing again.

“I’m afraid I have a meeting, Harley. Cape business. Was that all?” He did actually sound kinda sorry, so Harley forgave him for switching himself off before they finished.

“Fine. But I’m stickin’ around fer a bit, so we’ll talk about the apology thing later,” she warned, giving his chest another sharp poke and then trying to neaten the mess she’d made of his hair with her fingers.

Gave it up as a bad job.

“An’ put the cowl on, ya look like a drowned bat.”

He raised a pointed eyebrow at her, the gesture saying more clearly than words whose fault that was, and let her push him back far enough to stand.

“Thanks, Harley. I probably won’t be back tonight,” he told her, voice already lowering into that bat growl Selina went crazy for.

Hopping off the desk, Harley waved him away and bent to scoop her bat off the floor.

“Yeah, yeah. I gotta check on Waylon tomorrow anyway, but I’ll drop by when I have a minute.” She paused at the door and grinned over her shoulder at him. “The little one didn’t even try an’ stab me today.”

Bruce gave her a tight smile back, already at the clock. Ready for his Grand Descent. Dramatic bitch.

“High praise, from Damian,” he acknowledged, and Harley laughed, heading back out into the manor.

Maybe she’d join the kids for dessert.

**

Bruce had to admit he felt lighter as the door closed behind Harley.

She hadn’t told him anything he didn’t know, not really, but just. Knowing she was here. That she knew why Jason was upset, and would help him fix it.

He was always grateful that she’d been one of the rogues who turned… well, not exactly straight, he kept up with her exploits in Coney Island, but good.

She cared about people, and protected what she considered hers fiercely. Luckily for him, that included his brood.

And. Maybe. Just maybe.

Danny might have had a point.

Perhaps Harley could help him work out why it was easier to tell Jason he was sorry to a room full of people than it was at his son’s hospital bed after a bad patrol.

He changed in the elevator on the way to the cave, the spare suit from his office easy and familiar to put on.

A good thing too, since just as he arrived and settled in front of the Batcomputer to pull up anything he thought he might need (and telling himself it definitely wasn’t evidence against a colleague), the zeta tube activated.

::B069 - John Constantine::

Tonight was finally going to be his night.

**

A hundred feet up in the dining room, Danny Fenton stiffened abruptly mid conversation, senses prickling as someone new crossed his aura.

Well. Someone different. There was no mistaking that potent, crackling cloud of mixed wards and magic. It had been a while since they’d been to Amity Park, but it certainly wasn’t someone new.

A slow, thoughtful smile spread across his lips and he settled back in his chair, ignoring the surprised looks from his companions as he considered this development.

It certainly answered his earlier question.

A hand rose slowly to cup his chin, fingers drumming along his jawline as a slow chuckle slipped free.

Tonight might just be more interesting than the gala after all.

“So that’s John Constantine… huh.”

———————

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