#there was a point in time where I used to watch her harley scenes and the Arkham files about the creation of the character all the time

[chippedmoon]

Just heard that Arleen Sorkin passed away. Feel quite sad by it because she was my first and favorite Harley Quinn. May her memory be a blessing.

[eggfriedricedwasian]

Joker Junior Tim but Tim's afraid of Harley and JJ loves Harley because that's his mom.

When Harley first found out that Tim was JJ and that the bats were the Waynes, she was torn. She wanted so bad to spend time with her son and to apologize, but she couldn't. She felt horrible for what she did.

Reason being is the first time she confronted Red Robin, or Robin at the time, while on patrol. She had found him on a roof and he had been so terrified of her he was shivering. Her heart hurt for Tim, who was scared of her.

She left him alone after that, always choosing to avoid the bird's line of sight and hearing range so he wouldn't be scared. It wasn't until one of the other bats talked to her, Oracle, that she decided to try to get close to Robin.

At first she started by sitting at the farthest end of the building where Tim was perched. She watched him for a few minutes before looking away. This happened several times.

At the point he stopped shivering and looking as tense as he used to be, she moved closer. Day by day, week by week, month by month, she got close to him till she was sitting next to him.

They had started up a friendship then. She would do most the talking, making motherly gestures here and there, till one day, he fell asleep on her. She had taken him to her house that winter night and tucked him into bed, kissing him goodnight and setting out breakfast, hot chocolate, and fresh clothes along with a bag the next morning.

He was scared, of course, this was a villain's anti-hero's house, you couldn't drop your guard too much.

He knew he shouldn't have trusted her.

"Goodmorning, kiddo. I made you some pancakes and hot chocolate. There's some clothes on the bedside and a bag for your costume, Timmy, that way you don't have to go home in that."

He stood frozen as he stared at the large stack of pancakes laid out. He slowly moved forward, taking the fork next to the plate and took a piece off of it.

He hesitated when biting it, but when he did, nothing was wrong with it. It tasted amazing.

He had almost choked several times when he scarfed down the pancakes, the best pancakes he's ever tasted if he does say so himself(sorry Alfred), and thanked her.

He changed and put his stuff in the bag before getting ready to leave, but he stopped himself.

He looked at her, and she looked confusedly at him.

"About the Joker.."

He didn't need to finish his sentence, she already knew.

She sat down and motioned him to sit in the seat next to her, so he did.

She didn't look him in the eye when she spoke. She talked for a while, told him about her relationship with the Joker, about how sorry she was about what she helped do to him, everything.

After that talk, their relationship changed. They became closer, the bats noticed.

Alfred, Bruce, and Barbara seemed indifferent to the change in their relationship, because they knew what happened. They were happy about it, even, about how well their relationship has grown.

At one point, though, things changed again. Red Robin was taken and electrocuted, triggering JJ to cone out. The bats were stuck, unable to do anything without JJ doing something in return, Red Hood was frozen in place despite himself.

It wasn't until Harley entered the scene that JJ ran to her, hugging her, calling her mama that he calmed down enough and started crying.

"Oh Junior, it's okay baby. Mommy's here."

Harley kept saying those comforts until Ivy arrived and swept them away.

"Hey!" Nightwing called out, prepared to go after them. Batman, however, stopped him, stepping up to Ivy.

"Have you got him?" he asked her. "Yes, we'll take care of him until he's better. Tomorrow's your only time I'm allowing you in my place to give him things. Your next visit is when he asks." She warned him. He nodded in return, unphased by her threat.

"B, why did you let them take him."

"There are things you don't know, about the time when Red Robin started out as Robin." Was the simple answer Batman gave them before he left, clearing out the area.

[sam-keeper]

Hey Look At This Comic: Homestuck Beyond Canon (Again)

you know that first time in The People's Joker where she's doing her "worst thing that ever happened to you" stand up gimmick, just having Poison Ivy recite their tragic backstory while Joker stands there getting blitzed out of her mind on drugs and laughing hysterically?

I felt that, lol.

Homestuck has this... tone that's always appealed to me, one that's sort of in that wheelhouse. So much of the humor in Homestuck is deeply goofy, while gradually drifting, like an unmoored boat, towards a waterfall with a bunch of sharp rocks at the bottom. that's, to an extent, just dark internet humor. I've been around the block, I grew up with Perry Bible Fellowship; Andrew's penchant for shock jokes wasn't new to me at the point where I hopped on the Homestuck ocean liner (they called it unsinkable!). but often its jokes structurally involve a kind of escalation from funny, to fucked up, and back to absurdity again, and that has both always been my sense of humor, and certainly my experience of personal catastrophe. and what makes Homestuck often so resonant is the way past that point of absurdity it finds a personal or thematic resonance.

I mentioned, in my last post like this, that for a while Beyond Canon felt unwilling to push the audience outside its comfort zone, and could come across as outright fawningly apologetic for stuff that, not to put too fine a point on it, I watched my friends put their hearts into before HS2's cancellation. I also mentioned in that post, though, that one moment a few updates ago made me sit up, stop skimming, and pay attention. this joke, specifically (cw for pet death and also pet suicide I guess?):

this is pretty weird and morbid! what a fucked up little story! I love the structure of this joke. In a few lines we get this progression from a genuine exploration of Jade's traumatic experiences trying to live like a normal person on Earth C, which cascades into this weird, pretty upsetting anecdote. then it escalates further into the farcical image of the suicidal hamster. it's a propulsive joke, a vehicle with no one at the wheel, and structurally Rose and Kanaya's interjections underscore both this energy, and the true to life sense of a conversation-turned-frantic trauma dump. I've certainly both endured and inflicted a few of those in my life! and, of course, Kanaya's frustration acts as a second punchline to the scene, reminding us that the whole reason this argument is happening is cause Kanaya's mad that Jade fucked Rose behind her back. it's like if the Spongebob glass bones and paper skin gag was contextualized by cuckoldry.

that's enough to justify the joke, and it was enough to keep me actually reading rather than skimming like I had with earlier upd8s. it's a well formed gag that has sharp, uncomfortable edges while remaining, at least to me, very funny. that's Homestuck, or at least baseline writing sizzle Homestuck.

what pushed it over into more interesting territory for me, though, was the pages that followed, which delve deeper into Jade's choice to keep her and Rose's child "Yiffy Longstocking Lalonde-Harley" (pfftttthahahha) a secret. I love the art above of Jade passing Yiffy out through a window, menaced by shadowy claws all around. it's a fittingly fairytale image for the Witch of Space--a reminder of the weird multiple registers of this story about stunted adults who also happen to be universe-spawning gods. it also demands a serious reread of other elements of the chapter. Homestuck likes to operate on registers at once absurd and resonant, after all. like, Jade's comment about not wanting people to "bark at [Yiffy] while walking down the street", in the context of defending her action of impregnating another woman's wife, could be understood as her talking about specifically transphobic street harassment. it's just filtered through the Homestuckian absurd situation of Jade being a magical dog girl.

in that context, why have a whole riff about a suicidally lonely hamster? well, surely if there's a metaphorical pet dying of loneliness in the Homestuck Epilogues in particular, it's none other than Jade Harley. isolation is core to her narrative: one of the current demiurges of the metanarrative informs her that as a Space player lonely power is her destiny! of course this bizarre, disturbing, and unhinged anecdote would resonate with her to the point of becoming fixation. like, it's barely subtext right? not dying of loneliness is her stated reason for wanting to have a daughter. not wanting her daughter to suffer her same lifelong social isolation is her stated reason for keeping that daughter secret, even if it meant making a deal with a sugary devil.

it's that level of deeper resonance that makes the joke so characteristically Homestuckian, or Hussnasty if you will. I'm glad I jumped back on when I did. the writing feels more and more confident these days. which is great, because beyond this kind of sharp, multi-layered character driven humor, Homestuck's style is most defined by being unapologetically itself.

this review originally ran on Cohost May 23, 2024. you can read more reviews in the Hey Look At This Comic tag and support me on Patreon.

[kissitbttr]

can’t stop thinking about simon falling for harley quinn reader typa beat

it’s a slow burn for sure, definitely not love at first right because he hates her guts the first time price introduced her during debrief session. she's fucking deranged. has murdered countless of innocent people before and not to mention shoplifting?? like why would price think it'd be a good idea to have her as a temporary addition to tf141? this woman is a criminal. he hates how cheery and giddy she is, always waving her hand to greet the team, acting like she hadn’t done some very questionable things, dropping offhanded comments that makes him choke in his own spit, parading herself in short black and red outfits that barely covers her ass and chest EVEN during the mission. it annoys him to the fucking bone.

but then as time slowly goes by, he begins to warm up to her existence. he’s starting to care about her well-being, putting a mental note on what she likes and dislikes, stealing glances at her way to see if she’s comfortable ever so often. he notices how she carries a red lipstick wherever she goes. black if she’s not feeling herself. his lips often twitches into a small smile whenever she does something cute to him and always always making sure she's okay during every single mission. ‘you okay, love?’ or ‘tell me if something’s bothering you, yeah?’ is what he always says. sometimes when the team has to split up, he’d be the first one to say ‘she’s with me’ and it makes her heart warms.

he's amazed at how well she handles rifles, all while looking and acting pretty. (he finds her adorable overtime too but he'd die before admitting that to her). when he lent her his signature AAC Honey Badger, he was impressed by how smoothly she used it, but nothing beats the way she kills enemies with her pink oversized mallet.

‘i can kill them in five, boys ! just give me a sec’ is what she says in a cheerful tone with a giggle after price had notified that there’s too much guards for them to handle. before price could even protest, she already loaded up her gun and walk towards where the guards are. it was something ghost had never found so attractive before but the way she said it? the confidence? her strutting like she owns the shit? considered him rock hard at that point.

before she goes, she tells the boys to wait while she does her thing. but not before sending a wink to ghost’s direction. she has a spot for him, she makes sure he knows that.

the team watch her gracefully killing the enemies through the cameras. small splash of blood painted her face as she smiles up at the camera to give the boys a small wave. she then jumps to one of the guard and put them in a headlock, suffocating him with her thighs to crack his neck in one swift motion (oh he’d do anything to let her do that to him)

‘fucking hell… look at this lass go’ soap tsked, others agreed. especially simon. this is the first time he had found a woman looking incredibly sexy and sophisticated while blowing someone's head off. it’s almost impossible a woman like her actually exists.

so the moment he hears her being held captured by the enemies, his blood runs cold. ghost. goes fucking. BALLISTIC. like 100% feral, no one could stop this man from tearing down the whole fucking sky to save her. so he makes up a plan to save her with the team. from there, add this scene while we're on it. safe to say she was truly moved by it.

‘oh… you were actually going to save me?’ she asks giving him her puppy dog eyes,

he grumbled while nodding sheepishly, his grip around the rifle tighten. ‘yeah.. and it was a pretty damn good plan too’

‘i’m sorry... well, i can go back in again if you still want to do it..’ her voice coming out soft and tender,

he smiles softly underneath the mask. even with dried up blood decorating her nose and the corner of her lips, he still finds her beautiful,

mentally ill but beautiful.

‘no—no that’s okay. ‘m just glad you’re safe, sweetheart’

he finds being with her is easy. just as easy as breathing. his once cold heart now softened because of her. and it is reserved only for her

-

i’m a firm believer that ghost is into batshit crazy women he can’t fix

[tyrantisterror]

Wife Goals: Harley Quinn

Welcome back, fuckers. It's February, I'm in a bad way, let's talk about the unstable fictional women that I pine for, because fuck you that's why. Last time on this prolonged emotional breakdown, I talked about Ryoko Hakubi, the ancient demon space pirate from the Tenchi Muyo franchise. Today, I'll talk about someone I think we all knew would come up sooner or later - I have a whole shrine to her for fuck's sake.

Funny story - I didn't actually watch Batman: The Animated Series as a kid, despite being a child of the 90's. It, Power Rangers, and Gargoyles were the big 90's shows I just sorta bailed on (and I guess TMNT? I think of that more as an 80's show, personally, but I've seen some people lump it into 90's nostalgia too, so...). I just wasn't much of a superhero fan when I was a kid - superheroes were buff athletic masculine guys, like the bullies that picked on me, and they beat up weird-looking dudes who were obsessed with, like, monsters and spiders and shit, which I related to a lot more, so it just wasn't my scene as a kid. I had Godzilla for my hero-worship anyway, and it's hard to compete with Godzilla for my heart.

I did watch Batman Beyond, though, because it came on after Digimon and what else would I do with my Saturday morning?

Anyway, I don't think I actually saw much if any at all of BTAS until my teens. Pop culture being what it was, I was still loosely aware of Batman and his gallery of rogues, so I knew of Harley Quinn by that point, but I didn't have any particular fondness for the character yet, and even after watching some episodes she wouldn't become important to me until, like, after college.

And to understand why you kind of have to understand what was going on with Harley Quinn at the time. So, ok, Harley debuted in Batman the Animated Series, an exceptionally well-done adaptation of Batman that is specifically noted for taking the superhero comic world's devotion to maintaining a status quo super seriously. And by that I mean that essays have been written on the sort of Calivinist nature of morality in Batman the Animated Series, where if a character is a supervillain, then nothing they do, no matter how well-intentioned, will EVER allow them to break free of being evil. Poison Ivy wants to leave villainy behind and be a mother? Well, because she is Inherently Villainous, she can't help doing it in a way that involves mind control and gene splicing and crimes against humanity. Mr. Freeze wants to save his wife? Well, there's no way he can ever progress that goal without harming people with a freeze ray, and also every evil scheme he concocts to reach that end - a noble goal, mind you - will be foiled, leaving his wife still frozen on the brink of death. If you are a villain in BTAS, you will always, always, ALWAYS be a villain, no matter how hard you try to redeem yourself. The status quo MUST be maintained, no matter how tragic your situation is.

Which adds a meta-textual layer of bleakness to the already incredibly bleak life of Harley Quinn. Harley is a psychologist who fell in love with her patient, and said patient happened to be the Joker, i.e. one of the most notorious supervillains of all time. She turns herself into a supervillain to impress him, throws her career in the toilet in the process, and ends up being used as a disposable tool and punching bag by said villain over and over again. Harley suffers horrendous abuse from the Joker, commits horrible crimes to gain his favor, suffers terribly when she's caught by Batman, and basically repeats this cycle over and over and over and over again.

Because the status quo must be maintained, no matter how bleak your situation is.

It should be noted that, in the (intentional or not) Calvinist nature of the show, Harley's misery is clearly intended to be a direct result of her flaws. In Batman the Animated Series, pre-villain Harley is explicitly stated not to be a good psychologist to begin with - she was not smart enough to earn her degree honestly and slept with her teachers to raise her grades. Never ethical or talented, it's kind of treated as though her situation is her own fault for not growing as a person like she should have in the first place, which, uh... I don't think that element aged well at all, honestly.

But, luckily, Harley proved popular enough that the Batman the Animated Series take on her didn't remain the ONLY take for very long.

In fact, Harley's popularity grew so big over time that by the 2000's she got her own solo series, which came with a big problem to solve: how does Harley Quinn, a character who revolves around the Joker, who in turn revolves around Batman, work as a character without the two characters she was designed to orbit around? She's a moon, not a star, how can that work?

Well, Harley had to change, and that meant the status quo had to change.

Harley breaks up with the Joker and tries to, well, not go legit necessarily, but be a more low-profile kind of supervillain so Batman stops punching her in the face so much. More mischief and misdemeanors and less murder and manslaughter, and when she does kill someone it's, like, a serial killer or assassin, so basically fine. Because her relationship with the Joker is, like, the PICTURE of an abusive relationship, Harley becomes this picaresque figure, escaping from her chains to run free and rampant, and inviting us along for the ride.

And with that independence as a guiding theme, Harley got retooled a bit. She's always been a cheerful goofball, so it's not really out of character for her to help people now and then, albeit in a chaotic, mayhem-filled way. And hey, she has a degree in psychology - what if we just ignored the original intent and presented her as legitimately good at it? That brings a new sort of pathos to Harley Quinn, if she was a genuinely talented and dedicated person who stumbled once and paid severely for it - and it makes us invested in her quest to find some way to pull herself together after falling so hard.

And... that's kind of sympathetic, isn't it? It's hard to screw up worse than Harley Quinn did, it's hard to ruin your life more than she did, and yet here she is, still trying to pull it together in spite of that. She lives in a town so dark and depressing it has "Goth" in its name. Her ex-boyfriend is a killer clown who is infamous in-universe and out as one of the most cruel and monstrous villains of all time. Her resume consists of "psychiatrist who slept with her patient" and "moll for the most notorious serial killer alive." In many continuities she has permanently dyed her skin chalk white. You simply cannot fuck up worse than Harley Quinn has.

And yet she keeps trying. There's something heroic about that.

Harley has been beaten and abused by the man she gave up everything to be with, and yet she keeps trying. She is hated by most of the world because of her villainous past, and yet she keeps trying. She can never, EVER go back to the life she had, to the career she went to college for, to the stable, normal life she at one point wanted, and yet she KEEPS TRYING. She lives in the world of superhero comic books, where any significant change to the status quo is (almost) ALWAYS undone, where character development is considered a mistake that has to be unwritten, where redemption is impossible because once the narrative decides you're a villain that's what you will (almost) ALWAYS be...

And yet. She keeps. TRYING.

In a world that is determined to treat her as a punching bag, Harley finds a reason to smile, to hope that life will get better, to laugh and try and find love and happiness and joy. And her hope was so strong and so infectious that it changed the status quo. Harley being the Joker's punching bag hench-girlfriend used to be all she could aspire to be, but now? That's just her origin story, and she's become so much more than that.

She's a mess of Red Flags, an absolute fuckup of a human being, a terrible person, but goddammit, she is TRYING to be better, she is trying to make herself a good person, she is trying to make the world smile, and through all the shit thrown her way, she still believes in love and happiness. I don't just like Harley Quinn or crush on her the way I do with other fictional characters - I'm inspired by her. I strive to have some fraction of her resolve, her determination, her steadfast will to survive and thrive. Because if she can make it, if she can laugh so loud that the immutable law that is Comic Book Status Quo will bend for her, then dammit, any of us can do it.

...

Plus she's a hot lady in clown makeup who wears leather jackets and skin-tight acrobatic tights, I mean c'mon now almost everyone's down for that on some level

[lumaconstante]

Hey sunshine! ☀️✨

How are you?

Today I brought you some reasons to read my fanfic 'Star'.

• It's a fanfic set in the Gotham universe where Bruce Wayne has a biological teenage daughter, the result of a romance he had with a Japanese singer during his youth;

• The story has many references to Alice in Wonderland;

• Each chapter has at the beginning some excerpt from a song by Taylor Swift's Midnights;

• The protagonist's romantic partner is Conner Kent (Superboy);

• We have relevant appearances by Thomas Elliot (Bruce's friend) as the father of a girl;

• Practically the entire Batfamily appears at some point in the story;

• At first, Joker and Harley Quinn don't appear, I explore other villains from the Gotham universe;

• The fanfic addresses the dark side of the entertainment world;

• The fanfic is available in English and Portuguese on Wattpad.

Among many other things!

Below, a brief prologue of the Fanfic And the link for those who want to follow everything on Wattpad:

One, two, three, four.

Four times. That’s how many times the pearls from my mother’s necklace hit the ground as it broke, rolling somewhere beneath the tangle of wires behind the speakers and the jellyfish-shaped lights, while the instrumental music continued to play.

Five, six, seven, eight.

Eight seconds passed before the fans in the front row realized something was wrong—that the woman holding the bloodied knife over the lifeless body wasn’t part of the performance.

Nine, ten, eleven, twelve.

Twelve times. That’s how many times I replayed that scene in my mind since the Gotham City police took me to the station to give my statement about what had happened.

The questions were always the same:

— "Do you know the killer?"

— "What was your mother’s relationship with the killer?"

— "Did your mother have any enemies?"

— "Are you sure of what you saw?"

— "Did your mother have any secrets?"

— "Are you okay?"

Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen.

Sixteen was the number of steps from the interrogation room to the psychologist’s office.

I’ve known how to count since I was four years old—it’s my earliest memory, and for some reason, the most vivid.

I was in the rehearsal room, watching my mother practice her performance for her show. She counted each step of her routine as she evaluated her movements in the mirror’s reflection.

— "Counting helps you focus on what’s important," she used to say.

And it was by watching her practice that I learned the numbers. They became an annoying and irrepressible habit, according to some people, but I like it. Counting gives me an illusory sense of control, and I feel comforted by it.

Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty.

Twenty was the number of dancers who fled the stage, ignoring the fallen body. I remember every detail clearly: the ellipsoidal lights shining in shades of blue and purple, the speakers making the stage’s wooden and iron structure tremble, the pearls from the necklace hitting the carpet, the wireless microphone rolling to my feet.

She never liked pearls; she always preferred sapphires. But that day, since I was going to make a small appearance in her show, she insisted I wear her favorite sapphire necklace.

Bright, fiery blue sapphires. Just like the color of my eyes. I was about to step onto the stage for the final duet when it happened.

Kira Hoshi didn’t scream.

When the knife pierced her abdomen, she looked at the perpetrator in shock. They exchanged words—silent, muted—that I’ll never know the meaning of, and then my mother’s body fell with a dull thud, collapsing to her knees.

The woman with dark hair and colorful streaks looked at me with a smile before leaving the scene.

When I ran toward the bloodied body on the ground, no one tried to stop me.

I can’t remember what happened next. There were no more sequences; the numbers began to jumble in my mind, stuck in no particular order.

The microphone in my hand fell, emitting a sharp, irritating sound as I embraced the bloodied body. She stroked my face, wiping the tears streaming down my cheeks. Her lips moved, but I couldn’t hear anything except the microphone’s grating sound.

Her lips curved into a faint smile as one of her hands caressed my dark blue hair.

"I love you," her lips mouthed silently.

A lump formed in my throat, and more tears rolled down my cheeks.

When her dark eyes lost their shine, I knew I would never hear those words from her again.

I don’t know how much time passed before someone pulled me away from the body. I didn’t even have the strength to look away.

My hands were cold as ice, and the blue and purple lights still flashed overhead when two officers dragged me away as the paramedics approached to examine her body.

But just like me, they already knew it was too late.

A police officer wrapped a thermal blanket around my shoulders. Some idiot had triggered the fire alarm while fleeing the venue, leaving me drenched from head to toe, but I barely noticed.

I simply let them lead me away from the chaos as if I were a little girl, and then they made me relive that scene over and over again until they were either tired or satisfied. And when they were satisfied, they let the reporters swarm me until all I could see were lights.

Every eye was on me, in the center of that room like in a circus. Exactly like in a circus. And as much as I wanted to step out of the spotlight, I knew the wall of people surrounding me wouldn’t allow it.

After the reporters gathered all the material they would sell on magazine and newspaper covers for the next few weeks, I was finally alone—or rather, almost alone.

A police officer chatted on the phone about some idiot she’d met at a party, but she didn’t seem interested or bothered by my presence.

It was nearly midnight when an officer finally cared enough to inform me of what would happen to me next. They told me they couldn’t reach my aunt at the number I had provided, so they searched through my mother’s contacts and called my father, who was already there to pick me up.

I let the thermal blanket slide off my shoulders as I followed the officer escorting me to the station’s exit. In front of the gate, a man dressed in an elegant suit waited by the car. I approached hesitantly, feeling his eyes fixed on me.

— "Hello, Alice," he said, bowing slightly. "It’s been some time..."

[raes-writing-space]

Childhood Friend!Reader x DogDay (Finding DogDay Hung Up)

Warnings: Mentions of gore and blood, abuse including manipulation, depression, death, cursing, DogDay does NOT get saved in the end, heavy bittersweet/angst warning, etc.

Viewer discretion is advised!

Summary/Notes: (Y/N) was one of the orphans at Playtime Co, reader is said to have been VERY smart and observant child, and found out about the Bigger Bodies Initiative at a very young age (around 8). This happened to affect their relationships with the other orphans, including an orphan name Samson "Sam" who was their best friend, who would later be turned into DogDay. Feeling guilt, they go back to the Playtime Co. after escaping "The Hour of Joy", and hoping to save those left, they find DogDay and imagine what life would have been like if things were different.

Word Count: Roughly 2,250 words? I use Obsidian as my writing doc.

Romantic or Platonic?: Could be read as platonic or romantic, but it may seem like it leans more towards romantic.

A/N: This is heavily based off an OC of mine and an AU I have for Poppy Playtime, but I really wanted to share some DogDay content since I've been scouring the tag for weeks now and need more content. If you'd like me to post my notes about the different AU's I have, let me know!

Since this is a writing from my OC, it originally has she/her and feminine descriptors/titles, however I did my best to change them to try and make it more gender neutral, if you happen to see anything I've missed please let me know!

(Y/N) was lead into a prison that seemed underneath the Playhouse, a place they didn't know about from their time at Playcare. They had assumed that was possibly where CatNap had to have been held, when he wasn't interacting with the children. They hated how isolating it already felt, despite the "childish" nature, nothing about a prison was childish. (Y/N) didn't even know what they were looking for at this point, just another way out - away from all these poor starving toys trying to eat them alive. That was when they saw the scene, it took them a moment to really process it all. DogDay, Sam, their first childhood friend they ever had. The friend that was picked for the Bigger Bodies Initiative when Harley Sawyer found out about (Y/N)'s knowledge about the project. That was a guilt they never could find themselves to forgive themselves for. They knew that truly, it was the adults that betrayed them both, but how could they simply still leave him here after all this time? DogDay was hung up by the arms, belts and straps tied to pieces of the cell. Even worse, his legs were missing, only a tightened belt around his waist was keeping his organs from falling out of his body. How long had he been like this? Had those toys been eating him alive as a last resort?

"Sammy?" (Y/N)'s voice called out, in the moment they sounded so small, just like a child again.

As if it was instinct at hearing the nickname, his head seemed to pick up, silent for a moment, as if processing if this was in fact real or not.

"Angel?" He questioned, voice box even sounding ragged.

Even the voice box has aged… (Y/N) knew that they were never really supposed to sound like themselves after the procedure, but things were so different now. Before (Y/N) could linger on it for too long, his voice brought them back to the harsh reality they were both in.

"There's nothing left to save… not here… A million pairs of eyes are on you now. Watching, waiting, hungry. They want nothing more than to crawl-" "Shh… Sam, shh… I know… I know… Let's not think about it for now…" (Y/N) moved closer to him, resting a gentle hand on his cheek for a moment, before a shaky hand goes to wrap around his torso, as another hand goes to undo the straps on one arm. "What-What are you- Angel, listen to me, please, you need to get out of this place, you need to live. You and Poppy can fix this. End this madness, the torment, please, just leave me." He started rambling quickly, especially as he could feel one arm become free. "I…" (Y/N)'s voice became shaky, as he immediately noticed the tears well in her eyes, "I know… I know I'll have to… just… Just let me have this moment… Please, I'm just tired and want to sit for a moment and talk to an old friend…"

There was a silence for a moment, a small grunt when they had done their best to keep him supported as they released the other straps, as the two of them slid down the wall of the cell for a moment. There was no way for him to be truly comfortable, but they tried for him anyway. The two sat side by side for a moment, before (Y/N) closed their eyes and leaned their head against his shoulder. DogDay must have been hung up for a long time, almost unaware that he could move his arms again. He seemed to then move his arm a little, before rotating his hand to be palm up. (Y/N), in their paranoid state since arriving, had noticed the small movements immediately, before they put their hand in his. Maybe it was the effects of the poppy gas finally getting the best of them, even after how hard they had been trying to fight it. Maybe they really were just tired, tired of running, of fighting for their life, of seeing their friends suffering, of all of it.

"CatNap will be coming for the both of us if he knew you released me… Angel, please… you have to go…" DogDay attempted again. "No… I'm sure he knows… And I'm sure he knows the power he already holds… Before the Hour of Joy… CatNap helped me speak with the Prototype. The Prototype was trying to plan something with me, and I was just… too far gone in my sadness to listen… The Prototype had even warned me about the event and how I should escape from it all…" (Y/N) trailed off, and DogDay seemed to turn to them, almost as if in shock that they had known this whole time, alongside the rest of the monstrous toys. "CatNap knows that I'm just trying to find answers, I don't know if Poppy is right, or if the Prototype is right, but I at least want to come to that decision on my own… So, CatNap knows… as you said, there's a million eyes watching… so, just let them watch, and listen… for now…" (Y/N) spoke again, as they rubbed their thumb against the palm of his hand, it was always much too big compared to theirs.

"We were best friends before you were chosen for the Bigger Bodies…" "I always knew there was something special about you…" DogDay tried to sound lighthearted, attempting to find the peace they were yearning for. "Theo… CatNap… knew the Prototype before his procedure too… He tried to help Theo escape, but then something happened, and the Prototype risked capture to save him… That's why he treats the Prototype like a God, for him, that is his savior." (Y/N) attempted to explain, hopefully giving him some more clarity, despite it not meaning much now in these final moments. "I like to think… before your procedure, maybe our friendship was on your mind… Maybe that's selfish of me, but as much as it hurt to see you become DogDay, when I heard how happy you were to see me… How you called me Angel and thought I was special… It gave me some peace of mind that you weren't angry with me, for not being able to say goodbye…" (Y/N) trailed off.

"You weren't there?" DogDay seemed to question, as if trying to recollect a memory that felt so distant to him that it almost never existed in the first place. "No… the fucker, Harley Sawyer, the doctor who created the Bigger Bodies Initiative, told me I would be spending the day with him… Purposely made me anxious, and kept me past curfew so I wouldn't get to say goodbye or see you go… Before he told me that you were chosen for testing, but that of course, the orphans at Playcare would be excited to hear you were being adopted… He wanted to break me down, so that I wouldn't somehow speak about the initiative, and… it worked…" (Y/N) answered. "He saw in my files that I once told a counselor that DogDay was my favorite toy and character, because so many people thought I was a sunny leader, like him…" Tears started to well up again, as they could hear him let out a deep disappointing sigh.

"And then they conditioned me to cheer up any kid who looked sad, knowing that out of all the kids, you would be the worst." DogDay pieced together, as (Y/N) simply nodded. "I was used as your reminder… Those sick… Why did you not push me away? You could have-" "No… I never could do that… Yes, you were a reminder of one of the worst days of my life… but Sam you gave me so many days that I consider the best days of my life… I would never trade those days in for anything…" (Y/N) looked at him, tears streaming down their face, as his gentle and slow hand attempted to wipe the tears away. "I only wish I could have given you more days like that… God, after I left… I started to imagine this… alternate world where everything was different… That we really were just kids at an orphanage who would be able to grow together, and maybe get adopted by kind loving families, and hope that we'd find and see each other again, and that… somehow we did, we always did…" "I imagine what life would have been like for us… If we would have told each other about our first crushes, or would get too embarrassed because maybe the truth was that we had crushes on each other… A typical stupid teenaged life, where we'd make mistakes, and learn, and be awkward, and fall in love or out of love, and things would just be easy…" "That we could just be kids or teens or adults just laying in a patch of grass and enjoying the real life sun against our skin… and that even despite all our real world problems, we'd know that it'll all be okay in the end because we had each other…" (Y/N) couldn't help but ramble on about this idealistic dream they'd had for so long, a motivating factor to keep going just one more day… Caught in a world that they knew would never exist, but made them feel genuine happiness as if it did.

"That's sounds like a wonderful world to be in…" DogDay couldn't help but finding himself imagining it, a sweeter dream than the nightmare he's lived in for so long. "I've lost myself in that reality far more than I'd like to admit… I've gone down so many routes, but refused to think about anything that wasn't a happy ending of some kind." "What was the happy ending you imagined the most?" DogDay questioned them genuinely, his body slumping a bit more, finally finding some semblance of peace. "We'd grow old together… It didn't matter how, if we were married, or had kids of our own, or were just best friends until the very end… But I imagined us having a picnic on top of this, gorgeous hill… That our old bones would have taken a while to climb, but we'd leave early, to watch the sun rise… And talk about life until we watched the sun set…" "I would thank you for… helping me understand what any semblance of love would feel like despite no adult ever showing us or teaching us how to love someone… I would thank you for being the closest thing I ever had to a family, for always being there for me just when I needed it… just like right now… I would make sure you knew just how much you meant to me, what you meant to my life, and in the end… all I would want is to make sure that I made you feel just as loved and appreciated as you've made me feel…" "You have. You always have." DogDay is quick to respond, never wanting them to doubt once for a second that he didn't appreciate his time with her too.

(Y/N) then started to shuffle themselves up, tears never ceasing as they knew this would be goodbye, there wouldn't be a way to save him, and there wouldn't be an easy way to bring him along, not when things could be more difficult from here… They knew they needed to leave him with something to dream about, on the happiest note they could really give him, and hope that he would forgive her for having to leave him once again. "Then I would kiss your forehead…" (Y/N) trailed off, getting on their knees and leaning forward to give a long and lingering kiss on his forehead, just as they had said, "And a big hug, that I wouldn't ever want to let go from, but knew I'd have to…" arms wrapped around his bloodied "fur" that had become his body, as they felt his arms wrap around them in return, also not wanting to let go, knowing this would be the last time he ever saw his Angel again. "And I'd tell you to close your eyes…" DogDay listened, closing his eyes as best as he could, knowing there would only be hungry monsters awaiting him once they left. "And let the sun feel warm on your skin…" He started to imagine it, so deeply and vividly that he could almost convince himself that he did feel a warmth… and maybe he did in some way… "And finally, thank you for spending your life with me… I wouldn't say goodbye, I couldn't… Because I know that one day, maybe in a different life, or an afterlife, that we'd meet again, like we always do… So instead I would just say… I love you, good night, and sweet dreams, I'll see you later Sammy."

"I'll see you later, my Angel… Thank you… I love you too…" DogDay trailed off, sighing as he let himself get lost in his imagination and not in the sound of their footsteps retreating from him.

(Y/N) suddenly found another pathway, they assume CatNap must have opened it for them at some point. They attempted to wipe their tears and breathe deeply, despite the circumstances, as they let themselves get lost in the fantasy again themself, ignoring the quieted groans of what they assumed must be the final outcome of DogDay's fate. They hated having to leave, they hated knowing as much as they did, but as much as they could linger on the negative, and let it drown them again…

Instead, they decided to take a note from DogDay, the symbol of optimism for his friends, and chose to only think about the good, even if they're just distant memories.

[shipwreckinabottle]

leather and darkness

(Read on ao3 here!)

Rating: Mature Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Relationship: Bruce Wayne/Harley Quinn Word Count: 4389 Summary: the few times they kissed.

a re-write of a one-shot i wrote back in 2016 after watching suicide squad (and their 5 second scene together). was thinking of this pairing recently and decided to completely rewrite this entire story 8 years later 😂

(short preview below)

The first time they kissed, Harley would argue it was nothing more than an accident, really.

They were scuffling in the mud, and she was kicking and screaming and biting and basically doing all she could to escape. She was coated in mud and dirt, slippery like an eel, but he still managed a decent grip on her, and they were struggling and rolling and falling across one another like a bunch of drunks on a Gotham’s night out with nothing to lose.

She’d tried to kick him in the family jewels at one point in their struggle—more than tried, actually—and yeah, yeah, she knew it wasn’t the most ladylike thing to do, but it wasn’t like she could even remember the last time anyone had called her a lady, so that was fair game. Plus, whatever padding the Bats used down there was rock solid, and had probably hurt her more than it did him.

So, she tried head-butting him instead, because that always worked, aiming straight for his nose where she knew all the cracky cartilages were. But somehow he saw that coming as well and swung out of the way, all too easily and all too smugly, if she might add. Some echolocation bat-sy cheating bullshit.

So unfair!

But if Harley was known for one thing, it was that she didn’t give up easily, even in the face of overwhelming batversity. So she waited, bidding her time, waiting for the perfect opportunity and—there!

She flung mud at his eyes, causing him to flinch backwards while she barreled into him at full speed, sending the two of them smashing into a dumpster and—for the briefest second, before the squelch of going headfirst into a dirty dumpster completely engulfed her—she felt his lips pressed up against hers.

Things stopped for a moment. Soft. And she wasn’t referring to the oily takeout containers and chili oil wontons she was now knee deep in. But his lips. They were soft. Fluffy. Kinda like marshmallows. Which was definitely an out-of-pocket thing to think about—of all people—the Batman’s lips, because surely, soft—he wasn’t.

She blinked, a double-take, really, and that second’s distraction was all he needed—rude!—before her world spun, the colorful lights around whirling into technicolor detail; it was beautiful for a brief second, like streaks of comets passing in the night, except it was just the neon signs of strip clubs and poker bars and whatever shady establishments all over Gotham city zooming by and…

Oh.

It wasn’t the lights that were zooming by.

She realized half a second before a puddle of mud caked her right in the face that she was the one being swung out of the dumpster, her face oof-ing into the dirty alleyway as the Bats finally got a good grip on her, pinning her down and cuffing her hands tight behind her.

Ye-ouch.

As she laid there in the mud, the fight gone out of her, she couldn’t help thinking that it wasn’t at all like when she kissed her puddin’. With Bats there was no visible fireworks, no loud explosions, no butterflies in her stomach or down between her… well, if she had to be completely honest, she did feel a little ol’ something when he’d pinned her to the ground, but that was definitely more on her than on him, really.

She licked her lips. Thought reaaaaal hard about what it’d tasted like. Leather and darkness, she thought, though not to be confused with that one time she’d made out with that dominatrix mourning their dog recently passing of old age (that was certainly a different kind of leather and darkness).

It was weird, and a little conflicting.

Conflicting not entirely because she’d kissed him, but because she realized she didn’t find it completely unpleasant at all.

[lazaruspiss]

watching batman ninja and taking notes bc idk how to focus <3 spoilers under the cut

batman ninja is a wild movie already but harleys design fucks

smth smth. everyone got sent to generally the same time/location with variation, time can vary by years (selina was sent 2 years before bruce) but probably not decades and id assume location varies to anywhere within a certain range of whatever island in japan that this is on.

nightwing and red hood were teamed up separately from batman before the blast that sent everyone back by the look of it. cute.

i wanna see ivyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy- DEATHSTROKE IS HERE?

ohh ok. time difference was based off of proximity/order that they were sucked in, making batman the last to show. a few minutes become years, everyone else were def much closer in timing but even a few seconds mightve made weeks difference in how far back they were sent.

lords alluded to so far: joker, penguin, ivy, deathstroke, two-face

mz ivy im in love w u

"once my fortress is complete, itll be my time to strike. yeahhh" OLD MAN. BOOMER. he says yeah like an adult actor playing a teen in an anti-drug ad campaign.

the lord intros are so fun actually

i love selinas little puppet, not a fan of bruces general disposition.

ok bruce looks better with the beard. also alfred what the fuck. how. and lmao. alfred. "lets go on a japan trip we get back."

HARLEYYYYY SHES SO CUTE. is this tara. i think its tara. love her.

classic "stop me or save the civilian trick" smh

congrats to bane on bulking up i guess? anyways. wheres the others. im bored of batman. i do love the little chibi batman who forcibly ejects bruce, someone mustve added a fail safe specifically for bruce being dumb and self destructive.

the lip syncing is off, is this a dub?

DICKIE!! anime hair... and dick's anime bf/leader of the ninjas.

"how do we regain the advantage when we have nothing" bruce. bruce. the whole squad is here + a ninja army. girl.

DAMIAN? oh hes still cute.

monkee :) hes so silly

so tims swords are just for decoration then? weirdo. joker gets his ass beat, whatever. tim states the obvious. backstab fest. im bored again.

"joker!! you'll kill yourself!!" "that's the point, lmao"

35 min in, still no red hood. just establishing shots to explain that each lord has the special time sticks.

"i didnt know who i was after i lost my car" could you be anymore pathetic. he isnt even cute pathetic, hes just "id push him into a puddle" pathetic. stop brooding you boring bitch. oh thank god. he acknowledges that he has other people carrying his ass. red hood still hasn't shown up, not even for bruces go team speech.

ACK. THE CUT IN ART. SO PRETTY. ill probably make another post for screenshots.

red hood time. finally. jason the buddhist monk and his joker hunt sidequest. a part of jasons lashing out at harley is framed in a way that makes it look like a sexual assault imo, so it's giving some mixed emotions. like if this turns out to just be some regular farmers this would be a "stranger breaks in and gropes your wife while threatening you" kinda deal. i mean they went ass shot to jason grabbing her and holding her like. ack. like hes holding her like that so he can break her arm but u gotta trust me it looks Bad. not to just narrate the entire scene but its a lot. jason's pissed and scary, the art is very pretty, im sacred and a little. you know. youve seen me post you know how i am.

this movie kinda. i personally think it wouldve looked better in 2d.

"if you knew him like i did" bruce... also mr j and harley are fully amnesiac so jason the effectively traumatize 2 strangers for no reason. jokerquinn gets a happy ending by becoming farmers. "we'll take them back with us-" NO??? THIS IS LITERALLY THEIR HAPPY ENDING?? THIS IS THEIR BEST/ONLY SHOT AND TRUE REHABILITATION BRUCE. BRINGING THEM BACK WOULD BE PURE STUPIDITY AND/OR SELFISHNESS.

jason saying bruce but bruce saying red hood...

whoops. they still remember, so bruce is just a dumb hoe who thought he and joker had something special.

why are there penguins here. like actual penguins. and why does slade have a gf.

red hood has my fav voice acting of the boys tbh, the others sound a bit clunky. and is ivy also tara. she sounds a bit like tt03 raven.

mech battle. slade is still hot. even if he is a cringe old man. HARVEY BUDDHA BOT?

dami should get to keep his monkey friend. as a treat.

THIS ISNT SKYRIM I DONT THINK HORSES CAN RUN LIKE THAT

ok two face is funny. coin said i gotta beat ur ass now. literal "switching on a dime" behavior

hi welcome back to robot wars. fight scenes are really hit or miss for me, i love em or i fall asleep. smth smth. joker moment. clowns doing the heavy lifting. and where is harley getting her hair dye from, or is that a wig?

fun fact! red spider lilies (the flower growing from jokers gas bomb) symbolize death <3

aaaaand we're back to mech battles. voltron assemble or whatever.

dami almost gets squished trying to save monkey

bruce. bruce are you having an autism event or are you being rude on purpose. anyways give the dues ex macina to dami he deserves it more. baby boy can play the flute so good <3

"momi?" "whos she" a monkey friend tim. obviously.

THE MONKEYS ARE HELPING HIM PLAY IM GONNA LOSE IT. thats so unrealistic but its sooooooooo cute.

m. monkey.

damian is having the time of his life fr

damian is no longer having the time of his life

bats. bat monkey. b. batman? how.

fire no match for batman made of monkeys and bats. anime punch.

Nightwing Vs Penguin, Red Hood Vs Deathstroke, Red Robin Vs Two Face, Robin Vs Poison Ivy

damian that was not a joke. A for effort tho.

ok so the amnesia WAS real but smth smth plant magic.

joker that is not what a joke is. you're worse that damian.

4 barrels, who do you think you are deathstroke. the guy who killed the prime minister of japan? HARLEY? harley. this frame gets its own post she straight up licked her. and thats a lot of bare monkey ass. blah blah they blow up robot. "keep your tongue to yourself" blushing rn

batjokes sword fight, im bored again. joker has a boner. who give a shit. bruce bores me in that special way of his. i am once again reminded about why i can only ever pay attention to him when Dick is involved. if someone else doesnt show up soon my eyes are gonna roll back into my head. joker is not funny enough to make this interesting. hes kinda hot tho. is it just me or are the animators losing steam towards the end of this. im. im bored. oh i missed the fans, those were cool, its nice to see them one last time. blah blah kill joker- wait a minu- ok nvm. coward. batjokes should die together an share a grave. in main canon even.

gonna cry over monkichi brb. at least he has monmi. his sister? gf? both?

ok so by the credits i assume this movie was originally in japanese. anyways. after credits. bruce does wayne stuff, selina does catwoman things. pfft. old style batcart dents a strangers car.

harley and ivy were tara strong ofc, and apparently jason and dami shared a VA, i didnt even notice that. so did dick and alfred. and grodd and deathstroke. a lot of double casting.

[wack-ashimself]

The joker 2 sucked. SPOILERS!

It was mostly a musical, and for having an international pop star, this was some of the fucking worst singing by lady gaga. It was just...more visually stunning than audio stunning, by a lot. And the songs were fucking repetitive as fuck. I don't want to ever hear 'build a mountain' ever the fuck again in my life. Not even if I was fucking paid to hear it.

But there was one glaring hypocritical thing that made both movies worse. Cuz it knocks the wind out of the first one, and takes the rest of the wind out of the second one.

Super spoilers.

Joker 1-abused mentally disabled man gets beaten by society to the point he snaps and does drastic things.

Joker 2-He is on trial for those drastic things. At one point, he talks shit about the guards on tv, so they beat and (I believe) rape him. On the way back to his cell, his buddies in the jail see what has happened to him. So one of the younger ones you kinda knew was gonna die via guard starts singing the lead guard's favorite song, mocking him. The guard chokes the kid, killing him. So Joker, seeing that he caused a kid's death, renounces being joker.

Here's the thing tho: those guards had NO reason to murder him. They have been abusing all of the inmates for years. So the joker's creation from abuse then to STOP being joker because of more abuse MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE. Like the reason you became joker: society abusing the little guy. The reason you quit being the joker: society KILLED a friend of yours. MAKE IT MAKE SENSE. I can't believe this script was written. I feel like lady gaga maybe had way too much influence on this movie.

Oh side note: I wrote a better fucking ending. Easily.

Scene where he's escaping in the car after the explosion. But when he hears they want mayhem, he runs out of the car. And tho he knows cops will be looking at his old apartment, he goes there before they have time to react. He goes inside, and see Harley. She looks disappointed. She's packing up the little she had unpacked. He of course looks happy, is waiting to start their future, etc. She goes 'oh, damn it.' And he goes what? She turns around, and shoots him point blank in the chest. "WHY?" 'You were supposed to die in that car bomb I set off. The Joker was supposed to die today. So his memory could live on as I remember it; not some coward who gave on his dreams midway thru. I want my child to know the legacy of the joker. Not the grocery store short story of some loser named Arthur someguywhatsoever." He starts laughing. Uncontrollably. More than he has ever laughed. He now gets the joke. He takes blood from his wound, makes his iconic joker smile on his face, and asks harley 'One more performance?' Then the same stupid fucking musical number that the movie ended on happens. Cuz this movie sucks, so the only thing I could fix is the ending. THEY MADE IT A FUCKING MUSICAL! UGH!

Then the next movie is about Harley Quinn becoming even more crazy than the joker. Turning Gotham into a 3rd world country (not like cities today aren't basically 3rd world countries). Oh, and she loses the baby which puts her over the edge. AND she uses her riches to cause chaos; that would be cool. Just...no musicals. She wasn't a bad Quinn; she was a bad singer.

Side note: I can STILL improve the ending they had. Harley is the one going to visit Joker in the end, but it was a set up to get him killed by that one guy. And if you can't tell, they didn't lay it on that light: since Arthur renounced being joker/he never was joker, the guy who kills him, laughs, and watches him die is the REAL joker. Who was inspired by Arthur.

<SPOILERS!>

[taiblogcomics]

Muddying the Waters

Hey there, unrelenting accrual of clowns. Let's do some Countdown this fine summer's day, huh?

Here's the cover:

…Oh. Well. Pretty sure I've seen art like this on DeviantArt. Like, a lot of art like this. But regardless! Maybe it'll at least sell this issue to folks with that fetish. I dunno! I've occasionally bought a comic coz I have the hots for whatever superheroine's on the cover (usually Rogue). Maybe it works for other fetishes too! Anyways, of course it's clay because it mentions Clayface in the blurb down there (which is not included in the trade I'm reading from, by the way), but personally I think it looks more like chocolate pudding. Again, not my fetish, but if it's yours, does chocolate pudding increase the appeal more or less than clay~?

Okay, new recap rule: If a character appears on the cover, I should mention them first. Unless otherwise for theming purposes. So Mary Marvel is stuck with Black Adam's powers and also in Clayface. Jason Todd and Donna Troy have been stuck with locating Ray Palmer. Pied Piper and Trickster are stuck together after killing the Flash. Karate Kid is stuck in the past in the JLA's custody. Jimmy Olsen is stuck on how to use his powers for good. And Holly Robinson is stuck in a women's shelter after going on the run. And we're stuck reading this for another 42 weeks~

Okay, so you remember how last time, I ended by being all "I'm counting Bart's death as this series' fault even though technically it didn't happen in this comic"? Yeah, so this issue opens with a graphic recreation of the Rogues' murder of Bart Allen. That's a lovely way to open a comic. I bet all the quicksand fetishists who picked up this issue for the cover really regret it now, and so do I! And it doesn't matter that this is quickly revealed to be a nightmare that Trickster's having, that doesn't absolve it of depicting it!

Pied Piper and Trickster are in the custody of the Suicide Squad at present, under arrest for the Flash's murder. I wasn't aware this is what the Suicide Squad did, but I didn't know Multiplex was a member, so fair enough. Anyway, Deadshot explains that the pair are chained together with a high-tech handcuff. If it's pulled too violently, the pair of them will get an electric shock. And if too far or damaged/removed… The shock will be lethal. It might not be brain bombs, but it's still the Suicide Squad's go-to solution to all problems!

We cut over to Gotham City, where we get some crazy upskirt shots of Mary Marvel. I'm not quite sure how old Mary is in these, but she was discharged from a hospital on her own, so she must be at least over 18. Still, the introduction to her in this comic is the entirety of her thighs. Anyway, she's checking out the site of a recent explosion, and who should be at the scene but the Riddler? She immediately assumes the worst and flies off with him, but at this point in DC history, the Riddler has gone straight, and he spends the entirety of the next page explaining this to Mary until she finally puts him down. Physically, I mean, though I suppose she continues putting him down emotionally as well.

Over in Metropolis, at the women's shelter, the artist is clearly not done drawing women's thighs, as we watch Harley Quinn exercise on the balance beam while she and Holly Robinson talk. So this is actually a start of an arc for Harley Quinn to go straight (much like the Riddler a page previous). This would more firmly take hold in about 7 years, post New 52. But they were already laying the groundwork here! Anyways, long story short, Athena sought out Harley to make her assistant director of this women's shelter and lend guidance to these women. But Holly is still suspicious, because Athena is a literal god, what's she getting out of this?

Now then, in a new location for once, Jason Todd and Donna Troy decide to start their search for Ray Palmer by checking in with the man who took over his identity: Ryan Choi, the All-New Atom. I haven't read Ryan's run, but i should change that some time. Personal reminder! So it does mean I don't know these supporting characters. But they postulate that since Ray went sub-atomic following Jean Loring's incarceration to Arkham Asylum, he must be in the Palmerverse. Ah, man, I don't think Into the Palmer-Verse is the animated blockbuster you think it'll be, DC. Nah, actually it's what they call the sub-atomic universe in DC, like Marvel's Microverse. Hey, he discovered it, he can name it after himself if he wants. That's a scientist's privilege. So Ryan Choi joins the party!

Back on the ground, Riddler and Mary Marvel follow a mysterious trail of dirt leading from the crime scene. They discover a back alley where the trail stops. Riddler deduces that this isn't dirt at all. Instead, it's clay. And Clayface attacks them from behind, giving us our cover shot. Except Mary doesn't even get sludged, she dodges it while Riddler is the one mucked. Mary does the Flash tornado move and sends Clayface into space. She thinks it's fine, he was just dirt. As Riddler uncovers the stolen goods, he recommends that Mary should seek out a mentor in things magic, if she doesn't know her strength so strongly. Or anger management

Speaking of Gotham, no one goes around Gotham without Batman's notice, and you see him up above, eavesdropping on Mary and Riddler. Karate Kid approaches him from behind, and without looking up, Batman says "People who sneak up on me usually regret it." He's letting Batman know that the Legion is about to depart to the 31st century, and Batman's like "Don't let me keep you."

Karate Kid starts a bit where he wants to let Batman know what an honour it was to fight a skilled martial artist like him, and Batman retorts that "I lost once, it wouldn't happen again in a rematch." Karate Kid leaves in a huff, because he wasn't trying to rub Batman's nose in it. Batman smugly watches him fly off, mumbling something about "Did you expect a sidekick offer?" And I don't know why he's smiling other than that Batman is kind of a dick sometimes.

Speaking of being a dick sometimes, we cut over to the Daily Planet offices in Metropolis. Jimmy Olsen's musing to himself about his powers, wondering why he can't get them to activate at will instead of just under stress. He's also doodling some costume ideas, but when Lois comes by, she wonders what all the art is for. Jimmy hastily provides a cover-up of a comic strip idea he's pitching to the paper. Here's where the dickishness comes in: Lois then offers her opinion on his art, then says Jimmy should stick with photography. All Jimmy can manage is a weak "Good one, Lois."

Back over with Piper and Trickster, Trickster requests if there's any way they can be cuffed separately, and Piper takes this as a homophobic insult. Deadshot isn't stupid, and knows Trickster would try something the moment he was uncuffed. Trickster's all like, "What? No!" in the least convincing way possible, even when he points out they confiscated all his tricks. When they don't reply further, he uses his tongue to remove a false tooth implanted with a bomb. But, like, you look at this thing and it has a huge screw-like spike and clearly went down into his gums like a real tooth. That seems painful as hell to remove, especially without using your hands.

Trickster spits his nasty tooth-bomb straight up, where it explodes, knocking the whole transport around. And despite that one of the guys guarding them is Multiplex, a man whose powers are being able to make copies of himself, the two of them manage to push past him. Note also that Trickster hasn't communicated this plan at all to Piper, and he's just following Trickster's lead. The pair pushes past them and slams their way through the door and exit the transport. And the comic ends with revealing why this was a dumb plan: the pair of them fall out of an airborne plane and are plummeting to the ground miles below.

So, hey, remember when I began this review questioning why the Suicide Squad were arresting and detaining individuals? That's because I forgot Salvation Run was a thing, which was another tie-in miniseries to Countdown. Seriously, this whole maxi-series is just setup for other tie-ins. Not a lot else happens in this one aside from that, it feels very incidental. Clearly they had to do the fetish cover because there was nothing else interesting in the comic. Though I think this is the first issue with all six plotlines getting a scene, so that's something novel, at least~

[esperata]

Since its Pride month I’m sharing this chapter from an old fic I did where some rogues attend the street party. Just some soft hattercrow really, a dash of harlivy, and a hint of riddlebird if you know what to look for.

The Pride festival was a particularly special event in the Gotham calendar. Whether the citizens realized it or not, it was the only occasion all the Rogues had a tacit agreement not to disrupt. Other holidays were fair game, and some were even considered the prerogative of certain individuals, yet Pride was for all and therefore off limits.

This was the first year Jervis had actually attended though. A small group of Arkhamites were currently blending into the crowd in a way they would never achieve any other day.

Harley was extravagant, even by her usual standards, yet all the same she didn’t stand out from the crowd. Her hair was dyed a variety of shades of pink and her outfit seemed to consist of ribbons and strips of fabric from every colour of the rainbow. Next to her Ivy looked positively conservative in a purple and pink striped t-shirt with a lighter pink striped mini skirt, topped off with a plain white belt.

For some unaccountable reason Edward was collecting up cocktail umbrellas from discarded drinks, all in multifarious colours. He was wearing a distinctive jacket of lurid pink paired with a pair of royal blue pants all combined with a rich purple shirt, none of which seemed to tone at all.

Jervis himself was trying to be both subtle and obvious, an attempt which he was aware was impossible. But let it not be said he couldn’t believe in impossible things! His suit was a light blue and underneath he wore a bright pink shirt. The look was completed by a striking white tie. Already he’d received a few cheerful compliments that immensely buoyed his spirits.

Not quite so much as the feeling of a thin hand slipping into his.

He cast an undeniably fond look at his boyfriend. Jonathan’s anxiety was palpable but calmed as he shifted closer and met Jervis’ gaze. Out of all of them, he stood out the most with his subdued choice of clothes, only wearing a scarf and pin to indicate his membership to the community.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked lowly.

“Do you know, I am? Thank you for bringing me my dear.”

Jonathan ducked his head in the delightful manner he had and shrugged dismissively.

“It wasn’t my idea to come,” he pointed out.

“No,” Jervis agreed, casting a glance to their companions who were throwing themselves into the festivities. “But you came with me nonetheless. I appreciate that.”

He pulled Jonathan’s hand to his lips and placed a chaste kiss there. It was risky since the man hated public displays of affection even more than he hated being out in society, yet it was rewarded with a pleased smile. Apparently he felt it concealed enough by the party around them.

“If you want to leave at any time,” Jervis reminded him softly. “You only have to say.”

Jonathan paused briefly to cast his eyes over the scene around them.

“I don’t,” he answered slowly. “Its… nice. It feels like belonging.”

Jervis squeezed his hand tighter.

“You’ll always belong Jonathan. You belong with me just as I belong with you.”

“You say the most ridiculous things sometimes.” Despite his words, Jonathan let go of his hand and wrapped his arm about the shorter man’s shoulders.

For a few minutes they simply watched the dancing crowds and soaked up the warmth of each other’s presence and Jervis thought the conversation over. Then Jonathan licked his lips and spoke again.

“Do you promise Jervis? Always?”

Jervis turned to him and looked up into his worried gaze.

“I promise my dearest. Always.”

And with that Jonathan swept downwards to steal a kiss, uncaring if anyone saw them. Because it was a sight they would just have to get used to.

[xhellodollyx]

Okay I will try to put my thoughts into words as to why Tiffany, the last few movies and this series, seemed off to me

For one, I know she is just as crazy and messed up as Chucky is. And he never abused her, you can see that, I've never been a fan of when people claim that or put that into their fanfics. They are both equals. But they loved each other. You can see in moments in Bride and Seed that they love each other, they're just both so fucked up that it usually ends with them trying to kill each other because sometimes they clearly cannot communicate properly. Brad and Jennifer both have said numerous times in the past (in interviews, behind the scenes stuff from past movies, the Bride movie commentary) that Chucky and Tiffany love each other, that they're equals, and other stuff along those lines. We see moments where they are soft together, in Bride and Seed, that shows that, despite everything, despite how many times they might yell, cuss each other out, or kill each other, they still always come back together. So I don't know why Don made it a point to try to completely toss all that away with how they are in the show (and with introducing the Sarah Pierce stuff in Curse but I've already complained about that a ton). Yeah they're not a healthy couple in the slightest, they're toxic (not abusive, just toxic), but they do love each other. Trust me, I am not one of those people that saw Tiffany as a Harley Quinn-esque person (mostly that she just does what Chucky tells her to do and whatnot). Chucky does sometimes treat her poorly, but he does love her, we've seen it. And she's a (not to be corny) strong independent woman. But she also has motherly instincts, loves to cook, is very much a hot goth woman who also watches Martha Stewart and tries to be domesticated. But she also loves killing. She can be both. Shes not a victim and she's not innocent. Like OBVIOUSLY. I keep seeing people say that and I agree, but lowkey, cant tell if its people misreading what i've been saying in my past criticism of the show and writing overall.

As to what I've mentioned with Tiffany's character in Curse and Cult and now this show, Don kinda wrote her more as a one-note caricature. Any depth we could have had with Tiffany as a character is just absolutely gone, especially in the show. I know she's petty but you're telling me she turned Chucky in all because he stopped wanting to kill? I would fully believe her calling the cops on Chucky if she had found out about Sarah. Completely that would have been warranted. But she really had the man she loved that she spent years trying to find in Bride, ultimately killed by the police because he stopped wanting to kill with her? 🤨

Like that's been my main issue with these flashbacks of them. Yes they obviously like killing, together and separately, we already knew that. But as i mentioned earlier with depth and nuance and something deeper characterization-wise and plot-wise, Don's writing completely made them a one-note caricature. That their love was only bonded because they loved killing? Nothing else? That, as some people have said, is just very lazy writing. And I like Don, I respect what he does, especially with the LGBTQ representation aspect (as a lesbian myself), but he definitely falls victim to lazy writing with certain plots and character storylines. I think his thought process with writing the last two movies and this show was the very much hated "subverting expectations" idea. He subverted the expectations some of us had about Chucky's backstory, and also with the backstory of how Chucky and Tiffany met. I think it was partly lazy writing and partly that as well. I have seen these characters written so much better in fanfictions over the years, both as their own characters and together as a relationship. Don kinda just resorted to having them be one-note killers with no other motivations other than that. They have no complexity to their characters whatsoever because of the writing.

I guess that's my overall thoughts on the show. That I loved some aspects, but when it comes to Chucky and Tiffany's storylines and backstories, I'm disappointed by it.

[lilahisntsadanymore]

We're the black sheep

Chapter Three

Words count: 2.2k

The scene with Remus using bad words is inspired by a headcannon I saw some time ago, I had a screenshot of it but I couldn't find it now, but just so you know, the scene isn't mine.

Also what Y/n says after the Y/n x Sirius duel is highkey a literal quote of I SUPPOSE what Harley Quinn said in Suicide Squad but correct me if I'm wrong.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Late for class two times in a row on the first day of the school year. This haven't happened to [Y/n] before. McGonagall wasn't very angry but she subtracted some points from Slytherin.

The lesson felt like eternity to [Y/n], she couldn't wait to finally walk out of the classroom and not have to look at Sirius for at least the next hour. When she thought about him, she felt in a way she's never felt before about anyone. It was shameful but at the same time...nice? Out of a sudden [Y/n] got snapped out of her thoughts.

"Ah, fucking shit." Remus Lupin said under his breath a little bit too loud.

"What was that?" professor McGonagall asked, immediately looking in the direction of the desk where Remus and James were.

"James, language!" Said Remus. "Watch your mouth in class."

"Mr Potter, detention."

The class then ended. [Y/n] chuckled at the scene as James looked at his friend angrily. Remus seemed calmer than the other Marauders to everyone, but it wasn't true. He was just like James, Sirius and Peter, except that Remus knew how to hide it. He had the reputation of the good boy of his friend group.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"No more Gryffindors! At least for the next few hours." [Y/n] exclaimed as she and Circe were walking outside, enjoying the fresh air during a break.

"Not for me," sighed Circe, "I have Muggle Studies now. I sit near Evans, she is the only mudblood there and she knows everything."

"I love you, but use that word again and I'll hex you," [Y/n] slightly laughed even though she was being serious, "muggleborns are equal to us."

"Whatever..."

"...rows your boat, yeah. I have free period now, see you later."

The girls gave each other a quick hug and then walked in different directions. [Y/n] envied Circe the fact, that she could take Muggle Studies. Circe's parents were both purebloods but they weren't as crazy as [Y/n]'s parents and they didn't mind Circe learning about muggles. It's her life after all.

[Y/n] walked to the library, she liked to spend her free periods there. She sat at a table and took the Potions book out of her bag. A research on some potions could distract her from questioning if she really does love her enemy. She couldn't, could she? Of course it was a little impressive how Sirius wasn't afraid of being a rebel and expressing his views, but it wasn't enough to make [Y/n] fall for him. Maybe the thing that made it enough was his always perfect hair that looked a little fluffy and very soft, or the haughty smirk that almost never left his face? [Y/n] scolded herself for thinking about her enemy like that.

"Hey." [Y/n] heard suddenly. Looking up from the book she pretended to be reading, she saw Remus Lupin.

"Go ahead, make fun of me," [Y/n] said, "I don't care."

"Actually I'm here to say sorry," Remus sat on a chair opposite to [Y/n], "You know, for what Sirius did."

"No way. I would have never expected any of you little gits to apologize," [Y/n] scoffed, "are you gonna make me admit I like Black so he, Potter and Pettigrew can jump out from behind the bookcases and make fun of me?"

"No. But didn't you just admit you like Sirius?" A chuckle escaped Remus' mouth.

"Bloody hell."

Remus considered the situation rather funny. It was obvious [Y/n] had feelings for his friend and it was very entertaining to watch her trying to deny it. The silence was a little awkward and Remus wasn't leaving so [Y/n] tried to start a conversation again. But about something else than Sirius.

"I liked how you swore on Transfiguration and just blamed it on Potter." She smirked.

"And Minnie believed," Remus added, "we're now planning a prank on the new DADA teacher, but we know nothing about him yet."

"Kind of unfortunate we have a different DADA teacher each year, innit? Very unfortunate it's my brother this year. I can help you, but whatever information I give you, don't tell your bloody friends you know it from me. I do it just because I don't like him."

They both laughed. It was the first time they laughed with each other. The conversation was the longest and the most friendly one that [Y/n] has ever had with any of the Marauders. Or with a Gryffindor in general. [ Y/n] didn't think she would click with any of them, but Remus did seem like an acquaintance material when he wasn't near his friends. Suddenly she noticed his badge with the letter P on it.

"How's being the Prefect like?" [Y/n] asked.

"I don't know," Remus chuckled, "I got the badge this year."

"Cool," the girl started fidgeting her fingers, "my parents were disappointed when I didn't get the badge, they often compare me to Cieran and he was the Prefect."

"I think teachers made me the Prefect because they expect me to tame James and Sirius."

Both [Y/n] and Remus slightly laughed before another moment of an awkward silence. [Y/n] didn't know what to say now, she didn't have much experience with talking to people from other houses. Not like they were any different, Slytherins just seemed to have a family-kind-of-bond. Sometimes when one Slytherin was in trouble, his housemates would get them out of it even if they didn't know each other well. Unless it was Severus Snape. He wasn't liked among many of his housemates. Probably because of hanging out with Lily Evans a lot.

"Your parents chose interesting names for you and your brother." Remus decided to break the silence. He thought that [Y/n] seems friendly when she isn't around her friends.

"Not really," the girl disagreed, "Cieran means just a 'little dark one' from what I know."

"And what does your name mean?"

"[Y/n] means [whatever your name means]. My middle name is Branwen, some people say it means 'blessed raven', some say 'white raven'. It's also the Welsh goddess of beauty and love."

"Indeed your appearance is...distinguishing."

"I know," she smiled. It made Remus chuckle, but she wasn't joking. [Y/n] was really pretty and she knew it. There was something about her appearance that made her stand out from the rest of girls. In a good way, "you don't look too bad yourself, with those scars, you know?"

"Thank you." The boy blushed and looked down, he didn't expect the compliment. It was the first time [Y/n] complimented someone's looks openly. Or maybe even the first time she complimented someone who wasn't Circe in general.

They spent the rest of the free period together, talking in the library. The time passed rather quickly, neither of them expected one another to be such a nice person to talk to. [Y/n] wanted to ask about Remus' scars. It made her curious but she realized there most likely was some trauma behind them so she just left the topic for another time. If there was ever going to be any another time.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the end of the week on a Friday afternoon, a few Slytherins could be seen on their way to the Quidditch pitch, [Y/n] being one of them. It was now the time for try-outs, there was no time to waste. Owen, as the captain, was already waiting at the pitch. He spoke:

"Speeches aren't my thing, I'm not Dumbledore, all I have to say is that if you were on the team last year, doesn't mean you'll make it this year so focus and let the show begin."

He walked to [Y/n] and wished her goodluck even though she believed she didn't need luck. She was sure her skills were above everyone else's, completely forgetting about what Marauders told her a few days ago.

Some time later, [Y/n] sat on her broom and prepared to take off. Confidence was flaming on her face when she flew into the air. But out of a sudden, she started losing control over her broom. Her own broom, how was that possible? The weather was close to perfect, almost no wind was quite rare. [Y/n] had no idea what's happening but she tried her best to keep the broom steady. It was difficult like never before even during matches in the rain.

[Y/n] decided to land and maybe take another broom. She was high up in the air, it would be hard to land with a crazy broom even for a professional Quidditch player. Suddenly the broom did a barrel while trembling, it caused the girl to fall on the pitch when she was about twelve feet above the ground.

Maybe it was just adrenaline's fault, but [Y/n] body didn't hurt. She didn't feel physical pain however it hurt her mentally when she realized she had just got humiliated in front of many other Slytherins. By her own broom. Quickly [Y/n] got up and gave everyone an angry look that told them to stop looking at her. She walked out of the pitch in a quick pace, quietly telling Owen not to worry and continue his captain duties.

Then [Y/n] remembered about the encounter she had with Marauders a few days before. It made her realize they did it. They used some jinx or hexes on her broom to make her fail try-outs. Of course, they were scared Slytherin might win again if [Y/n] would be still on the team.

"Obviously" [Y/n] muttered to herself when she noticed James, Sirius and Peter running away from the pitch. Surprisingly, Remus wasn't with them this time. [Y/n] ran after the three boys. Some pain started to appear in her arm, but she didn't want it to let it stop her.

"Potter!" She shouted, causing James and his friends to stop running and look at her.

"You look upset," James said, "what happened? Or is that your casual face?"

"You bloody gits hexed my broom!"

"I know! It was brilliant." The boy high fived his friends as they laughed. [Y/n] didn't find it funny at all, she hated them even more in that moment. She asked herself how could someone as kind as Remus be friends with people like them.

"So you think you're so good with hexes, huh? You wanna duel? I would easily win with any of you!" [Y/n] took out her wand. The feelings of adrenaline entered her body again, making her forget about the pain in her left arm.

"I wanna duel," Sirius announced, smirking, "if I win, we're going on a date. And I will win."

"In your dreams, Black."

"Show me your duelling skills, Hannigan. Here and now."

[Y/n] and Sirius got on the right positions to duel, a little further from each other with their wands up. [Y/n] knew her duelling skills are great, she was taught how to duel when she was a little child. Sirius was good at it too and he also might have thought he's going to win, but [Y/n] promised herself to fight as hard as ever. Even if she maybe wanted to let him win, it would be too much humiliation for one day.

"Stupefy." [Y/n] started when Peter announced the beginning of the duel. Sirius blocked the spell and casted one as well, which the girl also blocked.

They kept shooting spells at each other for a few minutes. They were both eager to win. One of Sirius' spells hit [Y/n]'s already damaged arm but she tried to ignore it. She was a Hannigan, she wouldn't give up because of a little pain. Her mum didn't raise no bitch.

"What are you doing?!" Professor Slughorn made them stop. They were all so focused on the duel, even James and Peter, that they didn't notice him coming.

"Duelling," [Y/n] replied casually, "I think I'm doing pretty well so far."

"As much as I think you're both good at it, I can't ignore it. Such behavior won't be accepted on the school grounds! Fifteen points from Slytherin for dueling, twenty five points from Gryffindor for dueling AND cheering."

"Me and Peter weren't cheering!" Disclaimed James.

"We were trying to stop them!" Added Peter.

"I wish I could believe it, but I know you too well," the professor smiled slightly, "[Y/n] and Sirius, detention in my classroom at 11am tomorrow."

"Ugh, fucking hell." Slipped out of [Y/n]'s mouth.

"Language, young lady!"

"Sorry, the voices." The girl pointed at her head, causing the others to give her confused looks, but she smiled and added, "Just kidding! That's not what they said."

When the professor walked away, [Y/n] looked at Sirius angrily. She couldn't believe she literally had to spend a few hours on detention with him tomorrow. It was so obvious his friends are going to tease her about it.

"What?" the boy asked, "It was your idea to duel."

[Y/n] clenched her fists and walked away back to the castle. She started to feel the pain in the arm again, probably should take care of it. She walked to the hospital wing where Madam Pomfrey could take a look at the arm.

There was a small burn, mostly caused by Sirius' spell. Other than that, the arm was quite alright. At least the bone wasn't broken. [Y/n] was lucky this ended with just a few bruises. After Madam Pomfrey put a bandage on her arm, the girl could walk to her common room.

[sunkisseddaffodils]

reunion- pt 2 (final)

Pairing: sherlock x fem!reader

Request: 'hi! can i pls request a sherlock x fem!reader fic in which reader is kinda john's childhood bestfriend, but they were separated when reader with her parents moved somewhere (to united states, for instance). so now when she is in britain again, she sort of struggles with finding a not very fancy place to stay. fortunately, she meets our johnny boi and he immediately proposes for her to stay in 221c, baker-street. so reader moves there, meets sherly and they sorta starting to fall in luv with each other'

Summary: Sherlock accidentally drags up some old unwanted memories for the reader

Genre: reader insert, angst

A/n: this is the final part of the above request. Sorry, I didn't exactly follow the request but I mostly tried to. Thanks to anon for requesting though! Enjoy!

Read pt 1 here.

-

The following day, after a restless night’s sleep, Y/N sat nervously in Mrs’s Hudson cosy kitchenette. Mrs Hudson had switched on the kettle and was preparing to make both of them a cup of tea. From what John had told her, she was perfectly lovely but she couldn’t help but be anxious. It was in her nature; she worried about everything. She made sure to bring papers to prove to her that she had a monthly income. But what if that wasn’t enough and Mrs Hudson had already decided that she wasn’t good enough to stay in her upstairs flat? The sound of china cups being placed on the table brought her back from the depths of her mind.

‘What brings you to London? John tells me you moved all the way from the States?’

John was right, Mrs Hudson was delightful. Y/N felt more relaxed at the sound of her comforting voice.

‘I’m starting my training next week to be a dentist in Harley Street ’

Mrs Hudson’s eyes genuinely glistened with interest.

‘Oh? John told me you already completed dental school in Seattle? Aren’t you already qualified?’

‘Yeah in the States. To work here, I have to do an extra year before I’m qualified. I don’t mind though, I wanted a fresh start in the UK.’

A door closing behind them interrupted their conversation. Both Y/N and Mrs H turned to where the noise came from but couldn’t see who or what made it. The latter called out.

‘Sherlock? John? Is that you?’

With no response, they returned to their conversation.

‘Y/N, you seem like a lovely young woman with a bright future. Of course, you can stay in the upstairs flat!’

She smiled widely, uttering a thousand ‘thank yous’. Y/N grabbed her important documents and handed them to Mrs Hudson.

‘Thank you. I’ll take a look at these later.’

Tomorrow, Mrs Hudson gave Y/N a tour of 221c. She fell speechless as she looked around. It was the same layout as Sherlock’s but had recently been renovated to have a more modern look. The apartment was already furnished so all she had to do was move her belonging's in from storage. She couldn’t believe that she was able to afford this apartment! Especially, as it was in central London. Promptly, she strolled over to where her new landlady was waiting by the front door.

‘So I get all this for this price? That’s insanely cheap for London.’

Y/N commented while pointing to the tenancy agreement Mrs Hudson was holding.

Simply, she just chuckled.

‘I do special rates for Sherlock and John. If you’re a friend of John’s then you’re a friend of mine. I’ll do the same for you.’

She continued.

'I met Sherlock in Florida when my husband was sentenced to death. He was able to help out so I owed him a favour. ’

Her face was completely serious yet it sounded so implausible. How could a lovely little lady like Mrs Hudson have such an impossible past like that? Adding to that, Y/N wondered that Sherlock really must be a genius if he can stop someone from being executed.

‘Wait, are you saying that Sherlock stopped your husband from being executed?’

‘Oh no, he ensured it.’

And with that bombshell of a statement, Mrs Hudson disappeared downstairs leaving Y/N utterly astonished in her new apartment. She made a note to herself to remind her to ask John about Mrs Hudson’s past. There was so much she wanted to know about her life.

A few days passed and the time finally arrived for Y/N to move into 221c. She was standing outside the cafe with Mrs Hudson, waiting for the moving company to arrive along with her possessions. She glanced at her watch, anxiously. The moving people were already five minutes late. Meanwhile, Sherlock and John were upstairs having carried three boxes between them that Y/N had brought herself. John was busying himself, tidying up the flat, waiting for a text from Y/N so he and Sherlock could help her move in and set up the place. He had told Sherlock to make himself useful but looking over his way, he hadn’t. Sherlock was staring intensely at the three boxes they had placed on the dining table by the windows. John marched over there to tell him off.

‘Sherlock! What are you doing? If you’re not going to make yourself useful up here, then can you at least go downstairs to check what’s taking the mover’s so long?’

Sherlock completely disregarded everything he just said.

‘Look at these three boxes, John. What do they tell you?’

He just groaned.

‘Nothing, they’re just boxes.’

‘Fine, if you’re not going to play ball then I will just tell you.Y/N has made sure she took these boxes here herself. Why? That suggests they’re private and she doesn’t want strangers, i.e the movers, to touch them. The first two boxes are labelled: electronics and toiletries. Makes sense then for why she would want to move them herself: one’s valuable and the others personal.’

He pointed towards the last cardboard box.

‘But why hasn’t she labelled this one? I’m sure I’m right to assume that she would have labelled every single box from what I’ve seen from these two. So what’s in this box that separates it from the rest?’

John stepped away from the dining table and started fluffing some pillows on the couch.

‘Sherlock, I really couldn’t care less. There’s nothing weird going on. She’s not part of some underground crime syndicate. Just leave it alone. You can’t know everything.’

However, the crinkling of tape being peeled off from the box told John that Sherlock, was in fact, not going to leave it alone.

John raced back over to the table and seized the box from Sherlock. Soon, a tug of war for the box began between them.

‘You are not going through Y/N’s private things!’

He yanked the box harder.

‘But John, I have to know what’s in there.’

John glared at him, pulling the box back towards him.

‘Tough luck. Once again let me spell this out: you cannot go through other people’s belongings. It’s rude.’

Sherlock’s grip remained firm, however.

‘Don’t you want to know more about why she’s moved back here? The answer could be in this box. It’s strange that she just packed up and left her life back in Seattle. She obviously doesn’t have any family here. Otherwise, why would she come to you for help? And there’s also the fact I heard her tell Mrs Hudson that she has to do extra training to be a qualified dentist in the UK. Why go to all that effort when she’s already qualified back in the US? Aren’t you in the least bit curious?’

John once again dragged the box back to him.

‘Oh so now you’re not only going through her stuff, you’re also eavesdropping on her?’

Sherlock was offended even though there was a hint of truth to what John was saying.

‘It wasn’t eavesdropping! I just happened to overhear her.’

What Sherlock was saying did make John curious, but still, Y/N deserved her privacy. It was up to her if she wanted to them the real reason she moved back to the UK. John was about to tell Sherlock this when the door burst open.

‘Hey, guys! The movers are here now if you wanna come down.’

Y/N’s voice staggered when she saw the scene before her.

In a moment of alarm, both Sherlock and John had dropped the box. Its content spilt out onto the floor. An off-white ornate picture frame smashed onto the hard wooden floor, glass spraying everywhere. The picture in the frame was of Y/N and a man in front of the Seattle Great Wheel. Y/N stood in surprise as the said man was knelt down holding a rose gold diamond-encrusted ring. The picture frame was custom engraved and it read ‘For my love.’

Oh.

It all made sense now to Sherlock.

However, there was no time to think more about the picture. Sherlock and John stood like a deer in headlights

‘It was Sherlock!’

John pointed accusingly towards Sherlock.

Y/N didn’t say anything, simply walked over to where the box had fallen, glass crunching under converse trainers. She knelt down to pick up the photograph. She remained there for a moment, an expression of profound anguish on her face.

John tried to help her up, but she refused. She practically ran out of the flat, trying to conceal her pain. John didn’t even have time to tell her that she had cut her knees on the glass from the floor. He grabbed a broom from the kitchen and started cleaning up the mess on the floor. He looked at Sherlock who was still in the same place. He had a look of regret on his face.

‘Sherlock there’s no point making that face now! You’re cleaning this mess up too. We’re going to make it up to her by making this apartment look really nice before she comes back.’

As he shifted the box back onto the table, he thought of his own way to make it up to Y/N.

-

Y/N was falling asleep at her desk, she was now four hours into writing her essay on dental hygiene. She placed her head in her hands, thinking she would just have a quick nap. Her phone ringing ended that plan though. She saw that it was Sherlock and hesitated. She still hadn’t forgiven him for trying to go through her things and bringing back unpleasant memories. It had been a week into ignoring him and giving him the cold shoulder. She let it ring out. Sherlock still didn’t get the hint and texted her.

‘Y/N meet me here. I wanna make it up to you. S.H’

That text was accompanied by a GPS location.

Y/N couldn’t think of any possible reason why Sherlock had asked to meet her here. Her uber ride had stopped outside of a manor house just on the outskirts of London. She quickly checked with the driver to make sure she was at the right place. To her bewilderment, he answered yes. Hesitantly, she strolled up to the door. She didn’t even have to knock when Sherlock opened the door. He motioned for her to follow him.

‘Sherlock, what the actual fuck? Do you live here?’

Sherlock led her through a ton of rooms. Y/N swear she could have counted there were at least five formal living rooms.

‘Nope.’

He opened a set of French doors and led her out into the back garden of the estate. Not that you could call it a garden. It was massive. In the distance, she saw stables as they walked through a formal botanical garden. Sherlock was more like running though, but Y/N didn’t know what was so urgent.

‘So if you don’t live here. Then who does?’

An undesirable thought entered her mind.

‘Don’t tell me you broke in here?’

Sherlock turned around just outside of the exit to the formal gardens, jangling keys in front of her face, a childish grin on his face.

‘It’s not breaking in if you have a set of keys.’

They had finally reached their final destination. Y/N saw that someone had set up a bonfire in the middle of a field. A can of petrol and a box lay adjacent to it. That box seemed really familiar. Sherlock picked it up and brought it over. It was hers!

‘Sherlock, you’re going through my things again. You know what, I’m done here!’

She began jogging back towards the house. Sherlock grabbed her arm.

‘Wait! Y/N. Let me explain.’

She gazed back at him intensely, waiting for an explanation.

He placed the box down.

‘I know you haven’t told me about what happened. But unfortunately, I am good at deducing things. Those things in that box came from a bad past relationship. I’m pretty sure I can guess what happened.’

He started to stammer, not sure of how to word what he wanted to say next.

Y/N wasn’t sure where he was going with this but could see he was trying.

‘John will be the first to let you know that I’m no expert on love or on relationships. But I can see you haven’t moved on. I thought it might help if you chucked all of the old stuff from the relationship on that bonfire and set it alight.’

She looked down, knowing that Sherlock was right. He had guessed everything perfectly. He had read her like a book.

‘You’re right. But I took running away from your problems to the extremest.’

She sat down on the grass, wrapping her arms around her knees. Sherlock shortly joined her.

‘He was my world. Or I thought he was until one night I returned home to see him shagging my best friend on the sofa.’

There was a moment of silence before she continued.

‘I just felt so foolish. I had to get away from Seattle. The place was full of memories of my time with him. I couldn’t stand it any longer.’

Sherlock got up and picked up the box.

‘And that’s why you should burn this stuff. He doesn’t deserve to have this much hold on you when he never cared about you in the slightest. We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. But please just think about it.’

Y/N stood up with determination. Sherlock was right. She had to burn all of this stuff to finally move on. Together they placed the contents of the box around the bonfire.

Y/N stood back as Sherlock poured the can of petrol over the bonfire. He asked.

‘One more thing. Do you have that picture with you?’

She grabbed it out of her bag as an answer and showed it to him.

‘I thought you would', he stated.

She placed the picture in the centre of the bonfire.

They walked back a safer distance from it and Sherlock got a box of matches from his pocket. He lit one up and handed it to Y/N. He could see that she was having trouble actually lighting the bonfire. He reached out and held her hand to comfort her. Y/N greatly appreciated that. She took the final step and with her other hand, threw the match into the bonfire.

The bonfire went up in ablaze. It was oddly beautiful watching the embers rise up into the sky. Standing there in hand in hand with Sherlock, she felt the weight that had been on her shoulders for months slowly lift off. The whole experience was cathartic.

Out of the blue, they heard the distant sound of alarms ringing from back at the house. Y/N looked to Sherlock for answers. He just told her to:

‘RUN!’

They sprinted, holding onto each other, seemingly heading towards a gate at the end of a stone wall surrounding the estate.

‘Sherlock! What’s going on?’

Sherlock tried his best to explain as they were running.

‘Technically I did break into this house. But it’s my brother's so it should be fine. There should be a cab waiting just outside this gate.’

‘Oh my god!’, she exclaimed worrying about the consequences to come for their actions.

When they had reached the road outside the gate, they stopped to catch their breath. Then they looked at each other and burst into laughter.

She hadn’t laughed that like in months. And it was all thanks to Sherlock.

-

[soldiersweiner]

What a Shift (I can't believe I got to write another one omg?)

(Imagine 2)

Summary: “D'you know how hard it was to keep my cool when I got the call and saw you at the end of it?”

Warning: DUI accidents, mentions of drugs, EMT stuff

I apologize for any errors (English isn't my first language and all my works are not beta-read) and the inaccuracy (I tried my best to research as much as I can). I also use gifs to only show what is happening (actions, gestures, etc.) and not to show the physical appearance, etc. of the reader. Feedback is very welcome, let me know where and how I can improve <3

~

"Lord give me patience or an untraceable handgun." You murmured under your breath while slowly making circles with your fingers on your temple, all the while putting pressure as the headache grew.

You were thankful that it was your turn to be behind the wheel and not the one hopping out of the vehicle to scan the area for the caller, you watched as your partner turned her head from left to right before leaning to the device on her shoulder to radio in your dispatcher and inform them of your current status.

You already had a hunch that it was a prank call from the start when your dispatcher spoke to both of you while on the way to the location they received the call from. You haven’t heard of anyone using a telephone booth in years, let alone aware of any telephone booths still existing in New York in this day and age!

'We already rang them back three times but there was no answer.' They said, their voice static through the radio. ‘But the caller did request an ambulance.'

‘If you wouldn’t mind having a quick drive-by, see if anything’s going on?’ They added before ending the call.

"Well, that stinks - literally.” The door opened, hands on her hips and brows that were furrowed to meet in the middle of her forehead - the look of disappointment and annoyance that mirrored yours. “What a bunch of assholes - an absolute waste of time.” She huffed some more before climbing back in.

“Tell me about it.” You answered with a frustrated sigh before turning to your side and reaching for the latch of your seatbelt and buckling it back. “Can’t believe some kids would think it’s fun to do this.”

“If they don’t use their heads, they better give it away, then.” Monica shook her head while clicking her tongue, already buckling her seatbelt and leaning back on her seat. “They’re costing us money.”

“They’re costing us lives.” You almost exclaimed as you started the engine, shifting the gear stick and letting the ambulance move away from the prank caller’s location. “Do they not realize that we could have been saving lives, responding elsewhere?”

“Right?” Monica agreed, both of your moods already declining and it wasn’t even halfway through your 12-hour shift.

“They got a special place in hell.” She said just before the monitor in the middle of the dashboard beeped, alerting the two of you of another emergency.

“Oh, lookie here,” Monica said, her spirits suddenly perked up as she sat up more attentively to see what it could be this time.

“What is it?” You asked as you turned on the sirens along with the flashing blue and red lights on top of the ambulance, occasionally honking at cars that won’t move out of the way.

“Vehicular accident involving a sedan and a motorcycle,” Monica spoke the information out loud to you as you continued your drive to the location, following the route that was sent to your ambulance’s GPS. “According to them, the sedan was beating a bunch of red lights before t-boning the motorcyclist.”

“Ouch,” you reacted, your face wincing at the visualization your brain brought up in your head.

“Hello, ladies.” You heard Darcy, your dispatcher, again through the radio. “Cops are already on the scene; we’ve also called for EMT backup.”

“Apparently, the sedan caused more damage as we speak.” She added.

“What’s gotten into the person?” You asked, more to yourself than to Monica and Darcy.

“Police said that the driver of the sedan was DUI, but we’re still waiting on their final reports,” Darcy answered.

“Alright, thank you, Darcy. We’re already around the corner.” You informed her before ending the call.

Just up ahead, you saw similar blue and red lights flashing on top of at least 3 police cars. Some of the officers on site were already guiding and rerouting other cars that were driving in the direction the accident took place.

Unbuckling your belt and stepping out, you opened the side of the ambulance and handed over Monica’s EMT bag, and slung yours on your shoulder before meeting with the police officer who was walking up to you.

Your eyes were already scanning the premises trying to decipher each person, be it the officers, the victims, or some nosy people who were standing on the side to watch.

“The motorcyclist took most of the brunt-” the officer was almost panting as he spoke, most likely out of breath from the adrenaline and exhaustion of chasing down the suspect. “-before hitting the front of an SUV.”

“Where’s the motorcyclist?” You asked as you neared the crowd that was huddling around to get a good look at the scene.

“Right this way.” The officer parted the crowd as more of his colleagues tried to corral the people away. “Seated by the curb - male, in his 30s.”

“And the SUV?” Monica asked.

“A family of four - 2 adults, both in their 40s, and 2 minors.” The officer informed.

“Okay, I’ll take the one with the kids,” Monica glanced your way before asking the officer to lead her to them, leaving you to take care of the t-boned motorcyclist.

Your eyes scanned for the man the officer was describing and sure enough, you found him seated at the farthest edge of the scene away from the onlookers.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” You spoke, a smile almost showing with your hands on your hips as you walked up to him. “And here I thought the Winter Soldier was indestructible.”

At the sound of your voice, Bucky almost snapped his neck at how fast he looked up. The worry lines on his forehead disappearing, the anxious heavy feeling in his chest was already replaced by a light skip in his heart, and felt little flutters in his stomach at the familiar face he was seeing.

“I’m glad you find my pain amusing, doll,” Bucky said, almost chuckling but wincing at the pain he felt on his side.

You ignored the tingling feeling in your stomach at the pet name before you gave a small comforting smile as you dropped your bag to the side, kneeling in front of him to assess his situation.

“Does Steve know?” You asked as you took your little flashlight from the breast pocket of your uniform, already laughing internally at the mother hen-like personality Captain America has for his best friend when he finds out what happened to him.

“He already beat you to it.” Bucky smiled, nodding his head to the side before looking back at you, his blue eyes giving a little sparkle - you weren’t sure if it was the noontime sun or something else that did it.

Looking at the direction he gestured to, you saw Steve already conversing with some of the police officers, his eyes would travel back to the person who caused all of this from time to time before glaring at the man.

“If looks could kill,” you chuckled at his remark.

“Okay, can you look ahead, Buck?” You requested before clicking the small flashlight and pointing it at Bucky’s eyes; inspecting their reaction, the light stubble on his jaw tickling the skin of your gloved palm as you steadied his head.

“You know, you shouldn’t have gotten up right away.” You informed him before clicking the flashlight off and tucking it back in the pocket, satisfied with the eyes' reaction to the light. “Can you feel this?”

You started to tap on his upper right arm and down to his forearm then to his fingers.

“I’m fine,” Bucky replied before answering a yes to your question.

“How ‘bout this?” You then started to tap on the side of his thighs and the rest of his leg. Again, he answered a yes.

“Were you wearing your helmet?” You asked again, now putting your attention in inspecting his head.

“I was,” he answered, gesturing to the now broken helmet just a few feet from his Harley that was laying on its side.

You were glad that he wore it today knowing that sometimes, the veteran in front of you would purposefully forget his headgear, reasoning that wherever he was headed to was nearby. Your hand brushed back the locks that fell on his forehead, did the same on the sides and the back of his head, inspecting if there were any bumps or cuts.

“Can you wiggle your toes for me?” You asked before looking down at his sock-covered feet, his toes doing as you say. You then heard him mumble something along the lines of ‘You’re starting to sound like Steve.’

“Okay, no cuts here and I can’t feel any bumps either,” you hummed to yourself as you continued to part some of his hair. “Do you know what day it is to-”

“Y/N, I swear I’m f-” You can hear the annoyance in Bucky’s voice as he reached for your wrists to stop your hands from trying to look for any more bumps in his head and push you away, you knew he hated being coddled but it was protocol and logical that you check everything.

“You’re hurt.” You told him. “You shouldn’t have moved, it could’ve caused you much more serious damage, y’know.”

He only sighed, knowing that you were right from all the stories you’ve told them of your past experiences and encounters working as part of the EMT team.

“Okay,” you say more to yourself, satisfied that he still has feelings in his limbs and that his helmet protected his head and face. Getting the alcohol-soaked pads, you carefully cleaned the scapes, cuts, and nicks that littered his right cheek and neck. “I saw you winced earlier, where’d the sedan hit you?”

“Right side, feels more like an ache,” Bucky replied looking back at you before trying to shrug off his leather jacket much to your dismay with the movement he was doing while injured. “I’m guessing it’s a broken rib.”

He ignored your nagging and protests to stop moving and that you had scissors to cut the fabric of his shirt but he proceeded to lift the clothing anyway from his troubled side; you can instantly see a bruise was starting to form there.

“Why are you so hard-headed,” you mumbled.

“You still love me for it, don’t you?” He teased, the glimmer in his blue eyes still present.

“Okay, can you rate your pain for me from 1-10?” You asked, ignoring his teasing remark as you tried to gently press on to the area he was having trouble with and looking at his face to gauge a reaction, the blue eyes rather hypnotizing as he looked back at you.

With the sudden feeling of warmth on your cheeks, you looked back down on your hands and ignored the unexpected feeling of closeness between the two of you. You heard him clear his throat as you continued to probe the right side of his torso, trying to feel for any bumps or sunken parts that might confirm his hunch.

When you heard him hiss as your fingers touched a tender part just below his second to the last rib, you looked up.

“That’s an 8.” He panted, his face contorting in pain. “I guess the serum’s taking its sweet time to work.”

Bucky groaned from the ache as you helped him pull his shirt down before taking notes with the pen and clipboard beside you, making sure to be as detailed as Helen wanted the medical finds to be.

“Isn’t that a bit too much, Y/N?” Bucky asked, looking down at the clipboard you were writing on beside him. “And how’d you know some of the information there when I haven’t even told them to you yet.”

“Bucky, I know.” You answered with a little laugh as you looked back up at him and caught Bucky with one brow up and a smirk playing on his lips.

“You stalking me now, doll?”

You rolled your eyes before you heard someone jogging in your direction making both you and Bucky look up to who it was.

“Y/N?” Steve called, almost surprised to see you here. “I didn’t know you were on duty today.”

“Hey, Steve.” You greeted before standing up and letting him envelop you in a side hug.

“EMT reshuffled their schedules, so here I am.” You answered with a smile. “I’m glad that Monica and I got the call. At least now I can directly send these to Helen.”

You waved the clipboard in your hand before kneeling back down to put it back in your bag.

“I’m guessing you can stand up?” You asked Bucky, seeing that in the past he would protest and whine against being wheeled in a stretcher or wheelchair no matter how much persuasion.

“Yeah, I’m good.” He answered before Steve crouched down to his left and looped an arm around his friend’s torso, careful not to touch the tender spot on the right.

You did the same on the other side, careful that you don’t hit the alleged broken rib.

“Okay, one, two-” Steve counted before the both of you hoisted Bucky up and waited for him to adjust his footing.

Slowly walking to the ambulance, you managed to make him sit on the steps of the vehicle.

“So what’s the verdict, doc?” Steve asked as he sat beside his friend. Two pairs of blue eyes looked at you and waited for your answer.

“Bucky’s hunch might be right, one or two broken ribs on his right,” You started as you looked back down on the list on your clipboard.

“There also might be bruising on his right leg, I saw him react earlier.”

You looked at Bucky pointedly as if to tell him that you were eagle-eyed and he can’t hide anything from you.

“What did the cops say about the person driving the sedan?” You asked, tucking the clipboard under your armpit before getting the blood pressure monitor and latching it to Bucky’s arm.

You busied yourself in doing all the basic necessary checkups as you listened to Steve.

“The punk was high and drunk.” He answered with a click of his tongue, Bucky shaking his head too at the gathered information. “They don’t know how the guy drove for so long before finally hitting-” He gestured to Bucky.

“What’ll they do with him?” Bucky asked.

“Put him behind bars, that’s for sure; they said that they’ll also do an investigation on who sold it to him,” Steve informed.

“At least now he’s being dealt with, and hopefully he won’t lead the NYPD in another car chase.” You said before instructing Bucky to sit further on the step and excusing Steve off of his comfortable seat beside his friend to reach for the small oxygen tank and mask.

“Would you mind holding this for me?” You asked Steve as you handed him the small tank.

Fiddling with the equipment, you managed to turn it on and set it at the right amount.

“Here, put this on.” You carefully stretched the garter over Bucky’s head and placed the mask on his face, covering his nose and mouth.

“I already saw you were having difficulty breathing - this might help.”

“You can put it down now,” you told Steve nonchalantly before putting on your stethoscope and gesturing for Bucky to lean forward so you can reach his back.

“I have to check again so this may be a little bit cold.” You warned.

“I can handle it,” Bucky spoke before you lifted his shirt to listen, taking your time on each side to try and hear for anything that may result in further damage.

As you squinted your eyes in concentration, you stiffened at the sudden cool and warm hands on your hips. You tried to ignore it but the sudden feeling of thumbs running smooth comforting circles on your stomach made you draw back and stand with your own hands reaching for his and placing them on his lap.

“Oh, c’mon, Buck. Seriously?” Steve groaned. “I don’t take you for the PDA type.”

“Quit it, Bucky. I’m trying to listen.” You warned at the same time.

Bucky only rolled his eyes at both of your scoldings knowing that the two of you were not as serious before you went back to listening to his breathing.

After a few minutes, you removed your stethoscope and hung it around your neck before leaning to your right shoulder.

“Monica, it’s Y/N. I might need to bring the motorcyclist to Helen.” You radioed your partner. “Suspected broken rib, the patient is already having difficulty in breathing.”

“Copy, Y/N. I’m still assisting the family with our backup EMT. We’ll meet you back at the base.” The static voice of Monica was heard over the radio before you went ahead and called for Helen.

After arriving at the Tower where Dr. Cho instructed you to bring the injured Avenger, you and Steve managed to persuade - it was more of a threat, really - Bucky to be escorted in a wheelchair to Helen’s floor that contained the cradle - this way, he won’t exert much effort and tire himself out and lose oxygen.

As you waited for Steve to return with the wheelchair, you busied yourself by prepping your EMT bag to take with you before you heard Bucky clear his throat.

“What’s wrong?” Your instinct to check on your patient suddenly activated as you turned around from the inside of the ambulance and dropping everything on the makeshift table before you stepped out and stand in front of Bucky.

Scanning for any signs or sources for his discomfort from head to toe and finding none, you looked back up at him. “Do you feel any pain?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Y/N,” Bucky reassured, his eyes looking down on your hand.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke again.

“Married?”

“Yeah,” You replied, relieved that he wasn’t in pain before looking down on the gold band on your ring finger with a smile. “You?”

“Taken, as well.” He answered, looking down at his own golden band - a stark contrast on the darker vibranium color of his arm.

“Wife’s probably going to get mad when she finds out what happened.” He started.

“How come? Wouldn’t she be worried?” You asked as you crossed your arms over your chest, curious why the missus will be more mad than worried.

“She’ll be mad when she finds out I stained my shirt. You know, blood stains are hard to remove.” He answered, his lips pursed as if trying to hold back his laughter.

There was a quiet pause before a deafening smack echoed in the garage.

“You bet your ass I’m mad at you, Barnes!” You almost growled, not really caring at the moment that Bucky was your patient. “Just wait until my shift is over.”

“Ow!” He groaned and tried to soothe the already warm stinging pain radiating on his right arm with his left hand. “What was that for?”

“Do you know how hard it was to keep my cool when I got the call and saw you at the end of it?” You were still not over at the sight you saw him in - seated on the curb looking defeated and in pain, the tears you were holding back almost an hour ago were starting to fill the rims of your eyes.

Gone was the hurt and annoyance that Bucky felt at the unexpected smack you gave him as his face softened at the sight of you, he could only offer you a reassuring smile before his hands reached for yours and pulled you to him.

Enveloping you in a tight hug, you tried to breathe in and normalize your heartbeat. You were sure that Bucky could hear it as his head was against your chest, your chin on top of his head.

“I hope what happened finally convinces you to never leave your helmet at home.” Your voice a little muffled as you spoke against his hair, you looked up trying to fight back the tears that were threatening to spill at the sudden imagination of what might have happened if he did forget his helmet at home.

“I promise-” he spoke as he pushed away from you to look you in the eye, “- I won’t leave it anymore.”

The contrast of hot and cold gave you a sense of comfort as he cupped your face in his hands before pulling you down to him, planting a kiss on your forehead, then your nose and lastly placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Ah!” Bucky groaned again, pulling away from the sudden insult of a pinch to his left side.

“I’m still mad at you.” You glared before giving him another peck on the lips.

~

Did not expect it to be that long, tbh. Hope you liked it!