#Arkham Intern Therapist

[raynewolfegirl]

Meta Jazz, the Arkham Intern Therapist Pt1

Update 5/16/2024: Congrats guys, gals, and others! You have planted the seeds and they have grown. Today I wrote another 46 pages on this story (the first section was only 9 pages ya'll). I'm working on splitting it up into smaller sections so I can post it now because tumblr said no to doing it as one piece. I'll be using the tag #Meta Jazz Arkham Intern Therapist if you want to follow it.

Original Note: I'm going to go ahead and apologize for how OOC Bane is in this. It originally was Joker but I couldn't see Jazz tolerating his proximity for more than a single millisecond so Bane it is.

~*~*~

The hardest thing about being a Meta in Gotham was responding appropriately during a Rouge's attack, Jazz mused to herself. Or perhaps that was just the hardest part about being a Meta intern at Arkham while studying psychology at Gotham University. Or maybe it was just her, she considered watching the guards and Dr. Rylie whom she'd been shadowing for the past 2 weeks wide eyed, pale, and shaking as theybstared at Bane behind her. It must just be her, Jazz decided, newbie guard Kyle Jennings was definitely a Meta after all. She should probably give him some tips on hiding his enhanced strength considering how often he broke mugs, door handles, and other delicate items used in daily life.

"Weapons down or I'll snap her skinny little neck." Bane growled out, shaking her slightly for emphasis. She very much doubted that. Liminials were built different than the standard Meta, stronger, faster, better endurance, and senses even if they could mostly appear to be standard humans on the outside.  As such, their bones and muscles were much were much denser than regular humans or even Meta humans. Technically, she could be considered "invulnerable" much like the Kryptonians are.

"Back up! Let him through!" Dr. Rylie  shouted at the guards. "She's my student! Let him through!" His voice was higher pitched than she could recall hearing it before.

Ah. That was panic.

Jazz sighed involuntarily and glanced over her shoulder at Bane. Why the man had grabbed the only person close to his own height nearby was a mystery to her - no, nevermind, he clearly meant to use her as a shield - but it made looking him in the eye more difficult than necessary.

"Mr. Bane, remove your hands from my person, please." Jazz stated calmly, channeling what Danny called her inner mom as she spoke. "I will give you to one to comply."

Bane looked stunned for a moment then laughed.

"Five."

The laughing continued. Jazz could sense a stir of uncertainty through her colleagues as they looked on.

"Four."

"Did you really think that would work?" Bane snorted out, arms tensing more around her.

"Three." She continued, indifferent to his words from her experiences raising her brother. Once the count down starts you mustn't respond to anything the kids do or say until they comply or the count is done.

"What cab you even do if I don't?" Bane asked darkly breathing directly in her ear. She kept her face expressionless despite the urge to express disgust.

"Two."

"Jasmine..."  Kyle whispered halfway across the hall from her looking on with a pained and horrified expression. Gun tilting towards the floor. Sloppy.

"One." She finished and Bane gave a derisive snort.

Then she was moving. Hauling the enormous man up and over her shoulder using the arm that had been wrapped around her neck. Bane hit the cold tile hard enough that the tiles, subfloor, structural supports, and part of the concrete foundation buckled beneath him. His shoulder popped out of joint, his wrist cracked - a hairline fracture by the sound of it -  and his breath was punched out of him from the force of impact. She released his arm as soon as his was embedded in the tiles and moved forward. Kneeling over him, support most of her weight on her left foot resting on the broken ground, her right knees pressed firmly across his throat without supporting any of her weight. The position put more strain on her muscles than she would've liked but at least Bane couldn't risk fighting back without crushing his own neck in the process. He could hardly throw her while flat on his back with a mangled arm.

"Now," Jazz began, looking directly into the behemoth's pained eyes. "Do you know what you've done wrong?" She asked like she would have done with Danny as a child.

"Yes, Ma'am." Bane choked out. Jazz heard movement and murmuring behind her. She didn't turn to look.

"What did you do wrong?" She asked. It was important to make sure children correctly understood why they were in trouble after all. There was a long pause as Bane appeared to cast around for the exact right answer as if he feared getting it wrong. A bad habit Danny still uses as well, Jazz thought to herself.

"I tried to hold you hostage," He choked out in a rush, words tumbling over one another as he tried to get them all out. "I scared you coworkers and it was very disrespectful."

So he'd gone for the grab-bag response. It wasn't wrong per sey but it did indicate a past history of abuse. The type of answer given by someone who expected to be harmed or ignored if they gave the "wrong" answer. Danny tended to use that method also and their parents had always been negligent at best.

"And are you going to do it again?" She asked giving him a Look as she did. Bane's eyes widened and he tried to frantically shake his head as much as possible with the pressure on his neck.

"No, Ma'am." He promised fervently.

"Alright then," Jazz said giving him a warm smile. She gestured vaguely towards the guards without turning to look at them. "Kyle here is going to take you to see the nurse and then back to your room then. I'm sure you'll behave for him?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I'll behave." Bane said. Jazz stood slowly asking sure not to put any additional pressure on his neck as she did. Kyle came and stood next to her as the giant of a man slowly pulled himself to his feet then led him away with 5 other guards.

Jazz heaved a sigh. Well, time to find out whether or not she could play all that off as normal, non-Meta human behavior.

#dcxdp #dc x dp #dpxdc #dp x dc #jazz fenton #bane #arkham asylum #BAMF Jazz #Jazz is Danny's Mom #You cannot tell me that she didn't start viewing nearly every male around her as a child automatically after a life with Jack Danny and Vla #Feel free to add on #I was going to have one of the batkids show up toward the end #But it didn't have the same impact #And I don't think the guards had time to sound the alarm #Bane just got cleared from medical #Not even to his cell yet when he pulled this #Legit only tried because 'hey she's tall enough to be a human shield' #It was a bad decision lmao #Ngl Jazz's midwestern sensibilities would totally tell her Joker is a mad dog that needs to be put down #But I may be projecting #Meta Jazz #Arkham Intern Therapist #Meta Jazz AIT #MTAIT #AIT #Meta Jazz Arkham Intern Therapist #my original post #Because I reblog so much I now need that tag. lol

[ghostbsuter]

Can be read as a continuation of this

.・゜-: ✧ :-

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

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

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

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

Man, he loved his family.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thanks—"

"Danny!"

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

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

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

Damn batman.

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

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

"And her wife."

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

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

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #look batman is paranoid #danny “i went from two mentally ill villains to crazy scientists” fenton: im fine #batman: are u sure #he was legot concerned when he got the notif that danny was at arkham #its alr now tho #just his sister #look he gave danny a emergency alarm button thing cuz he holds harley as a dear friend #even if he and her will never be mother and son #the least he can do is give him a hand if he ever needs it #jazz will and would've broke jokers neck if arkham crew wasnt aware shes the sister of jokers kid and shes hella protective #THIS IS ALL PRE-ACCIDENT #Danny is TODDLER shaped #10-13 years #he still got few months before hell #if harley was aware he was back in gotham she would have killed the joker before he knew of his son #bruce alr knows everything abt danny #the moment danny hits 15 hes sending the internship to wayne enterprises in the astronomy wing

[cannedbeefaroni]

March Of The Pigs: The Bad Touch Pt. 2 (Edward Nashton X Reader)

Part 1

Summary: You can't save Edward Nashton when the whole system is rigged against its patients. Desperate times call for desperate measures

Content: SMUT 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, MEDICAL MALPRACTISE, MANIPULATION, POWER IMBALANCE (for those reasons, i consider this fic to be DUBCON), VIOLENCE, Reader and Edward have a bit of a role reversed Harley Quinn and Joker dynamic, Edward is described to struggle with hypersexuality and paraphilias (based on how the reader is described, they also have those issues), handjob, penetrative sex (not specified whether its anal or vaginal), exhibitionism (public sex), physical restraints, degradation

Y/N is referred to in second person as you/yours and is written to be entirely gender neutral.

(I'm sorry this is pretty short)

You were so fucking sick. Sick of yourself trying to assimilate into this corrupt, archaic environment, thinking you had any sort of power to be the change you wanted to see. You thought working at Arkham Asylum would give you the opportunity to help the outcasts and undesirables of society. It was stupid of you to assume that would ever be the case. All you achieved was becoming a pon in a system that only benefits the top 1%. There was no such thing as helping anybody, only imprisonment and torturous treatment, pretending to the rest of the world that something good was being done. You weren’t better, you realize how selfish you had become at the hands of this job. At this point, you weren’t even sure who was to blame: you, the given circumstances, or Edward Nashton. You knew what he was capable of, so it infuriated you seeing how small and weak he chose to become. Watching him be manhandled by guards on nearly a daily basis made you want to vomit. The worst of it had to be that one time you had the misfortune of seeing the nurses physically restrain him to the floor as they forced medication down his throat. You had a horrific epiphany that you never felt real empathy in your life until now. Knowing that for years you had seen all this occur and simply looked away, you hated yourself for it.

The day you had lost your job was the biggest relief of your life, but simultaneously the worst thing to ever happen. You’ll admit that it was probably unethical to perform sexual acts on your patient, but at a certain point you just stopped caring. You didn’t value working there anymore. You were able to engage with Edward inappropriately in three different sessions before you were found out, the last time being caught on camera in irrefutable evidence. 

The first time you met with him after the incident began, you were extremely cautious, aware that you had gotten overzealous the last time. Making sure to be as quiet as possible, you touched him again. He was even more eager this time about it, body shaking as he fucked your fist. Keeping your head down, you pretended that the interaction was purely professional. Your face stayed dead straight as your body internally screamed for relief. His tip turned red as precum pooled from his aching dick. You must have unintentionally leaned in closer, because you could feel his heavy breaths on your face as you kept your head down. Then he kissed you, catching you off guard. He leaned down, catching your lips with his, tilting his head to the side as his mouth dropped open, forcing his tongue into your mouth. He couldn’t hold you, since his hands were cuffed behind his back as per usual, but you didn’t pull away. You knew you should’ve pushed him away, but you just sat there, letting him make out with you as you unenthusiastically tugged on his dick. You felt miserable, knowing you were nothing but his therapist as he shot ropes of cum on your shirt, then it pooled over your hand. Near tears, he apologized profusely, but you insisted it was alright. You rushed to the bathroom after that session, desperately trying to wash your shirt in the sink, but you could only do so much, and ended up going the rest of the day in a soiled, damp shirt. 

During your last encounter with Edward, you were acutely aware that this arrangement couldn’t last much longer. You couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone knew what you were doing with him. Even though you felt your days were numbered, you decided against your better judgment to risk it all, going as far as possible. You put him inside you, and he didn’t stop you. Leaning back in his seat as far as his arms cuffed around the back would let him, you sat on his lap with his legs spread open, and you fucked him. He hissed viscerally behind you, tensing every muscle in his body as he resisted the urge to scream from the feeling of how mercilessly you viced him. Leaning forward, holding yourself up against the table, you rode his dick, and no matter how slow you went, the chair clanked against the floor. You hung your head, staring at your feet as you two desperately thrusted into each other. His tip prodded deep inside you, feeling as if every organ in your stomach was reacting to his penetration. Despite trying to keep the pace slow, he kept going faster, and you didn’t have the willpower to deny it. 

“You’re doing so well,” you praised him, for the first time in a genuine tone. You sounded disheveled and breathless. 

“You’re a shitty fucking therapist,” he chuckles cruelly. Head spinning back, you glare at him, eyes glossed over. That was probably your biggest mistake. Looking him desperately in the eyes as he degraded you so viciously. There was never a point in your life where you came that hard. It was almost numbing, and you couldn’t stop yourself from screaming out in pure ecstasy. Soon after he came inside, filling you up so much it was dripping down your legs when you stood up. 

“I’m sorry, Edward. I’ll make things right, I promise,” you said as the session finished, and you dressed the two of you back up before leaving, allowing the guards to take him back to his cell. 

Soon after you were called into your boss’ office. You didn’t need to go to know you were fired, but you did anyway. It was probably the most humiliating moment of your life, but on the plus side, they’d keep this incident a secret.Apparently what you had done was the most embarrassing thing to ever happen in the history of the asylum. It seemed they cared more about a public image than morality. You were told to never speak of it and move on. Somehow, that outcome was even worse than you expected. The truth was finally revealed to you: that there was no saving this abomination. There was no guilt or questioning what you were about to do. 

It was disgustingly simple, sneaking into places you didn’t belong, stealing a ring of keys from an unsuspecting guard, and just playing a guessing game of which one would unlock the button in the control room that would unlock all of the cells. The guards were all underpaid and undertrained, making the simple act of carrying out the plan right under their noses a breeze. One of them asked what you were doing, but all you had to do was flash your ID, which you hadn’t turned in like you were just told to. 

The moment the cover was lifted and the button was hit, you had mere minutes to carry out the rest of your plan as the emergency sirens blared. You were free to find Edward’s cell. Just like all the others, his cell door was wide open, and he was standing in the doorway, confused and scared. You run straight towards him, almost knocking him over as you collide. He tries to protest, stuttering as you grab his hands and bolt down the corridor, taking him with you. Finding a fire extinguisher on a wall, you smashed the glass with your fist and hauled it into your arms, slowing down, allowing security to catch up, but you swung it around, hitting one of them in the stomach with intense force. You and Edward continued your escape as you located any room with windows that weren’t barred in. Finding the office you were just fired in, the door was left wide open, so you ran in and threw the fire extinguisher through the window. 

This was the worst possible escape route, as the window led to a steep drop into the ocean. It probably wouldn’t kill you, but you didn’t have an option as you only had mere seconds to act before the two of you would be apprehended. Edward was petrified, but didn’t hesitate when you grabbed him, throwing him out the window, as well as yourself. 

It felt like you had died. The only feeling in your body was how cold it was, but the moment you realized you weren’t getting air, your survival instincts reacted, and you started moving again, peaking your head from the murky water before you could drown. Red flashing lights were reflecting in the pitch black water of the harbor. You could feel something brush along your leg, and your heart sunk when you realized it was Edward, still underwater. You dived in, reaching for him until you finally got a grasp on the scruff of his shirt. Pulling him up, his face peaked into the air, and for a moment he was completely still. You shook him as hard as you could, even slapping his face to wake him up, then he started hacking and coughing violently. His face was bleeding, and his glasses were missing entirely, leading you to assume they broke and cut him up. Holding onto him, you began swimming toward the nearest infrastructure in the water, needing something to hold onto so you wouldn’t drown from fatigue. Hiding in the water under the docks seemed like the safest option for now. 

Arkham was ignited with chaos as the freed inmates rampaged the island. Your head was so full of water you could barely hear the gunshots and violence occurring. You clung for dear life to a filthy algae covered wooden support. Edward was clinging to you, his head hinged on your shoulder. He was crying, and you didn’t know why it shocked you. You forced this upon him, now it was your responsibility to save him.

#danonation #danocel #edward nashton #paul dano riddler #dano riddler #the riddler #edward nashton x reader #riddler x reader #edward nashton smut #the riddler x reader #riddler smut

[moonlupine]

Haunted!Jazz DP X DC Ideas

So I know that a theme with some DP x DC fics is Jazz being/interning as a therapist/psychiatrist at Arkham, usually with Danny following her by being a guard and/or an overprotective brother. 

I, being the gremlin I am, sat down and thought of some possibly darker/angstier paths that could be separated into different fics or combined together.

Immortal Danny - After the Accident, Danny no longer ages, so he goes ghost and follows Jazz to Gotham, only popping up as human (ish) in her apartment

Eldritch Horror Danny - Maybe there’s a breakout at Arkham, Jazz is kidnapped, mugged, etc. and Mr. Nightmare Fuel comes crawling out of a wall, the floor, or just fading into existence and being a terror/literal nightmare to whatever poor sod tried/talked about hurting Jazz

Medium Jazz - Jazz can see dead people, and she’s the only one who can see Danny either at all times, or just at all depending on what path you want to take, maybe with the exception Duke, or Constantine

Other/Liminal Jazz - Sharper teeth, tapetum lucidum (the thing that makes animals eyes glow in the dark), a flash of glowing green eyes, enhanced strength, speed, healing, etc. Could be any combination of these or more (although I’m a sucker for sharper teeth)

Vivisected Danny - Dissected by their parents, killing him a second (complete) time, and it shows up on his ghost form as Phantom as an open wound, showing off his insides (which if we’re including Medium!Jazz + Duke can see Danny, maybe because of how strong he is/was, maybe because of a lifetime of ecto-contamination/radiation, etc., could have some interesting effects

#dp x dc #dc #dp #Danny Phantom #eldritch danny #medium jazz #gotham #fic ideas #fanfiction prompts #liminal jazz #batman #dpxdc #Moon's Writing

[eldest-sibling-tournament]

Literally... none of that is true lmao. Dick had beef with Bruce and mostly tried to keep Jason out of it, and let Jason know he was there for him if he needed it. They went skiing together. Dick had a complete breakdown after Jason's death.

Where do I even start on the next bit. ALFRED originally gave the Robin mantle to Damian. "Worst year of Tim's life" It was the worst year of DICK'S life. His father of like 15 years died, his city got blown up, his best friend died, etc etc. And he STILL pulled it together and took on the burden of becoming Batman, sacrificed his independence, moved to Gotham to raise Bruce's deeply traumatized son.

Also he NEVER tried to put Tim in Arkham. And god forbid he not listen to Tim who had NO EVIDENCE Bruce was alive, instead of taking care of all back-breaking responsibilities on his shoulders while still grieving

Anyway. Please don't use fanon Tim stan nonsense to slander Dick thank you <3

ask 1 ^

ask 2:

i know it doesnt actually matter but that second-to-last ask abt dick grayson is literally just straight up lies. this person has not read any of the comics they are referencing. they are just quoting incorrect fanon as if its facts. dick had a complicated relationship with jason, yes, but wasn't particularly unkind to him, just distant, and is shown to have regretted that and grieved him hard; i'm not even gonna begin to get into the damian bashing but literally at no point did dick ever try to get tim committed to arkham. he suggested tim get therapy, because their adoptive father was dead (as far as they knew) and tim was convinced he wasn't but had no evidence. this is not an unreasonable thing to suggest to your grieving brother who appears stuck in denial! and he didn't "replace tim with damian and not even tell him". damian literally interrupted the conversation where he was trying to tell tim about it (where his rationale was that damian, a child literally raised in a cult of assassins, needed to be given a role to fill in bc he needed structure while being deprogrammed from being a child soldier, and dick wanted to see tim as his equal, not a subordinate.) tim himself completely reconciled with dick by the end of this comic. that anon was just making up a guy to be mad at, not actually talking about dick grayson 💀

ask 3:

Hi I’m the dick grayson shouldn’t win anon, the people thirst voting one etc etc but saw some propaganda that’s based on bald faces lies and I gotta correct it bc it’s my pet peeve. DICK DID NOT THREATEN TIM WITH ARKHAM. HE SUGGESTED A THERAPIST IN METROPOLIS like okay he fucked up there but he made the best decision he could during the red robin run (which is a dumpster fire) and like it’s been a minute since I read battle for the cowl era but didn’t Alfred give Damian the robin suit. And Jason was literally in dick’s family colours which got taken away from dick by Bruce which he had no right to do so I mean he justifiably didn’t like him. And yeah okay dick did put Jason in Arkham but need I remind you that Jason went on a killing spree as Batman and almost killed tim. And let’s be real him and him are brothers. He didn’t ditch him. That relationship was never fixed in comics bc they reset the universe but at the end of red Robin they were okay. And like you have over 10 years of comics but the important thing is that Arkham was NEVER what dick suggested to Tim holy shit but uh also don’t vote for dick in the next round (vote for him against supernatural guy tho) I just don’t appreciate the slander but I’ll be putting out my anti dick grayson propaganda next thanks

Adding to my other ask, Tim literally sounded like he was losing it. Like I wouldn’t believe him either. In the nightwing comics not too long ago he tried to bring his dad, Steph, and Conner back to life with the Lazarus pit. Tim willingly cut himself and started to use self destructive behaviours (LoA) and like his entire internal monologue supports that and bc grim dark era justifiably fucked him up okay I’m done

ok thank you! glad you're clearing this up

#i wouldn't know otherwise lol #dick grayson #propaganda

[gilbirda]

Fic Stats Game

Rules: Give us the links to your fic with the most hits, second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks, fifth most words, and fic with the least words.

Tagged by @disillusioneddanny!! Thank you, dear 😊✨

Fic with most hits

Friendly neighborhood vigilante (dpxdc) - 121,979 Hits

Meet Jasmine Fenton: Smart, resourceful, kind and the very proud sister of Amity Park's own undead superhero Danny Phantom. Therapist at your service. Intern at Arkham Asylum. Can kick your ass. Likes tea and long walks at the beach. Meet Jason Todd: Smart, resourceful, not-that-kind (if you say he's soft you may get knifed) and the very proud vigilante and protector of Crime Alley. Died for a while but got better. Holds grudges. Likes reading a nice book and the sound of the rain against the window. They are neighbors now.

Second most kudos

Mondays, am I right? (dpxdc) - 7,695 Kudos

There was a long silence. He heard his sister breathe in, breathe out, like she was mentally preparing herself to say something. “I… I heard, from other interns I talked to, that guard positions are always open. And that it’s super easy to get in.”

Third most comments

Can't help falling in love (with you) (dpxdc) - 345 Comment threads

When a ghost does shenanigans, Jazz usually stays out of the trouble, since trouble is her brother's thing. This time? This time trouble found her in the form of a ghost that marries her to the Red Hood against her will.

Fourth most bookmarks

Can't help falling in love (with you) - 931 Bookmarks (including privates)

Fifth more words

Dance with me? (dpxdc) - 36,710 Words

Two strangers meet at a Wayne charity gala to raise funds for the Arkham Asylum Reform project. What they don't know is that they have much more in common than they think. “That’s it? One dance? It doesn’t seem that difficult.” He glared at her. “Why, you don’t dance?” “Not if I can help it.” He grumbled with distaste. “Why not? Not handsome enough to tempt you, Mr. Darcy?”

Although the first one is a translation??? If we dont count it, the actually fifth one is:

Of bats, dreams and human connections (Stardew Valley) - 35,904 Words

Maybe, in retrospective, moving to the middle of nowhere and become a farmer wasn't Liz's smartest idea. The worst part wasn't getting up early or doing housework or meeting new people, no - the worst part was having to bathe in sun cream every morning and pray no one noticed she didn't age or got tired or hurt no matter what. Did I mention that Liz was a vampire? Well, she was. And even if for some she was the stupidest vampire alive, in her defense she just wanted to make new friends. Fortunately for her, the local goth boy of the town may be available.

Least words

Submit (Lucifer TV) - 395 Words.

In a world full of Omegas, being a Beta might be nice.

Did this for a fandom bingo lmao. I truly am not a Omegaverse writer lol

This was fun! I'm tagging @gremlin-bot @duskyashe @redskyeatnight @spite-sapphic-starlight if you guys want to!

#tag game

[setokaibapetty]

5 + 1 Fic Friday Roundup: Crossover Pairings (ft. Jason Todd)

It was going to just be rare pairings or crossover pairings (which tend to be rare by default) but I had a bunch of Jason Todd ones so ... enjoy!

Shake the Devil Out of Me (AO3) - "The first time Jason sees Phil Coulson, he sees him in the soft, flickering light of a warehouse fire. It’s romantic, he thinks, later. Like candlelight."

This Used to be a Funhouse (AO3) - "Jason Todd's new neighbor has something off about him, something that Jason just cant put a finger on. And as they actually start to become friends, and Jason spends more time around the enigma that seems to be Percy Jackson, he comes to the only logical conclusion. Percy has to be an assassin."

Girl, Help! My Potential Love Interest is a Former Crime Lord! (AO3) - "Danny made a promise to himself and his friends: He will retire from the hero lifestyle and get a college degree. Unfortunately, sometimes life gets in the way."

this thorn ridden gardern (AO3) - "The process by which Heliana Evans (real name: Helianthus Potter, AKA Woman Who Conquered) and Jay Peters (real name: Jason Todd, AKA Red Hood) meet, get to know each other, fall in love, do not fall in love, lie to each other, team up, stop lying, fight crime, fight each other, fight FOR each other, cry, bleed all over the good curtains, confess their true feelings, and drive everyone around them insane. Only sort of in that order."

friendly neighborhood vigilante (AO3) - "Meet Jasmine Fenton: Smart, resourceful, kind and the very proud sister of Amity Park's own undead superhero Danny Phantom. Therapist at your service. Intern at Arkham Asylum. Can kick your ass. Likes tea and long walks at the beach. Meet Jason Todd: Smart, resourceful, not-that-kind (if you say he's soft you may get knifed) and the very proud vigilante and protector of Crime Alley. Died for a while but got better. Holds grudges. Likes reading a nice book and the sound of the rain against the window. They are neighbors now."

Bonus: If It's a Highway (AO3) - "Bucky’s been running for a week when the supposedly-untraceable burner phone he stole from a HYDRA warehouse starts ringing. He’s in a gas station bathroom off a remote highway close to the Croatian border, getting ready to bleach his hair; the ringtone bounces shrilly off the bare tiles and makes his jaw clench tight."

#roundup #5 + 1 #ao3 #fanfic #fic #fic friday #archive of our own #fanfiction #reading recommendations #external links #xover #crossover pairing #jason todd #red hood #dc x dp #bucky barnes #harry potter #fem harry potter #hp #MCU #phil coulson #percy jackson #pjo fandom #danny phantom #jazz fenton #danny fenton

[duhbatmann]

Welcome to Arkham Asylum. Our staff are here to help you.

When Amadeus Arkham built this fine institution few would’ve believed it could be the premier psychiatric evaluation and rehabilitation center is become today. Everyone knows the stories of the various so-called super criminals who've been treated here, but that is only half the story. Our low security wings offer normal, but troubled individuals, a safe haven for recovery. An extensive breakdown of costs and healthcare packages can be found at the front desk or at www.arkhamcare.com/prices. We accept most major HMO's. Our website contains everything you need to know about our facility, and how we can help you. Did you know that the children's area of the site can provide you with the detailed but discreet psychiatric profile of your problem, offspring? Time times have changed at this establishment and through our pioneering techniques we believe that anyone can be cured! We represent all medical specialties and offer a wide range of medical, surgical, diagnostic and wellness programs. High quality of care coupled with Arkham Asylums convenient location Have ensured we are voted the number one facility in the entire state, Arkham asylum is a 500-bed psychiatric Hospital serving the entire Gotham area. We offer internships, and in the last two years have continuously hired from our cities, finest universities, our intern package and insurance programs ensure you get the best start in your new career. Pick up leaflet today!

Mental health and substance abuse issues can significantly impact a person’s life, affecting outcomes in school and work, and making it difficult to maintain relationships. Arkham Asylum offers multiple programs and various levels of care for patients age 13 and up. Our programs promote increased functioning and increased the quality of life for each patient that walks through our doors.

Arkham Asylum works to create individualized treatment plans that are structured to provide a unique continuum of care. As soon as a patient is admitted to our facility, we begin planning an appropriate course of treatment with our dedicated team of physicians, nurses, therapists and social workers. As our patients get the care they need, we simultaneously starting planning for their return to their communities. These plans may include continuing care with the attending physician, partial hospitalization, an outpatient treatment program or other community resources.

Arkham Asylum is available 24 hours a day, seven days a week to provide a no-cost mental health assessment for you or your loved one. Call us at 1(800)-123-4321 or visit our Gotham facility to get started. In the case of a medical emergency or crisis, please dial 911 or go to the nearest emergency room.

#batman arkham asylum #batman #bruce wayne #dcu #dc batman #arkhamverse #arkham asylum #the riddler #rocksteady

[scremogirl]

☾✧꥟ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒꥟✧☀︎︎

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐢𝐞𝐬

For some people it’s a dream job; being able to look into the minds of the most ruthless, dangerous, and hardened criminals in all of Gotham. Others think it’s a death sentence, thrown to the wolves with no way out. Many staff come and go, psychologists, therapists, nurses, police wardens, you name it. You on the other hand…well, you’re not too sure. You haven’t been here for long, about 3-4 years, but all that time was spent being an assistant. You didn’t know what you wanted to be in school, considering dropping out and doing trade. That was until one of your old friends pitched a phsycology class to you

“Oh come onnn (y/n), it’ll be fun. Besides, if you pass the final you’ll get a certified internship. Maybe that’ll help you figure something out”.

You don’t remember what compelled you to do but you did. One thing you didn’t expect is that you’d be an intern working under an Arkham doctor. You stick around long enough to reep the benefits of it all, now becoming a licensed doctor with two degrees. You’re friend on the other hand, quit at the mention of Arkham. Something about killer clowns, a 10 foot tall humanoid crocodile and a literal scarecrow; all that mumbo jumbo. You don’t speak to her anymore. Albeit a little upset she left you to go down this road alone, you're thankful she helped you discover a passion you would’ve never thought you had.

With that being said, all of that leads you to today. You’ve been assigned to the most dangerous wing in all of Arkham. The last doctor quit, or got fired…ran away? Again, something with a killer clown. You don’t know, all you really care about is the fact that now everyone’s schedule is changing and you have been assigned to new patients. Whose your new patient?

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞y 𝐃𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐬𝐨𝐧

[askarkhamasylumintern]

I see your intern and I raise you my own Arkham worker. Her name is Lorelei, she's a therapist, and her diet consists of coffee, pain medications, and the occasional strong drink when allowed. (Needless to say she is TIRED)

What an absolute creacher ! Let her sleep fr she looks eepy. /pos

#out of character

[harleyquinnaskblog]

Hi Dr.Quinn, it's G. from Arkham, again.

How do I convince my colleague to seek legitimate therapy instead of letting me (their friend) bully them on tumblr ?

-G. The Arkham "Intern" (Still technically not an intern but still unpaid.) @askarkhamasylumintern

i got a simple two step plan for ya G !

step 1 : explain to them why therapy would be beneficial. tell them ways they can access and utalise therapeutic skills. offer them support in finding a therapist

step 2: thats all you can do sugar. no seriously, a bit of life advice from quinn, you can’t talk someone into therapy if they don’t want it themselves! you can help them realise they need it, but they gotta take that step forwards and start it themselves

if the friend in question is reading this: go to therapy ♥️

#askharleyquinn

[raynewolfegirl]

Meta Jazz, the Arkham Intern Therapist Pt 2.2

Note: Part 2.2! The Bane Incident from Kon's POV! 😁

~*~*~

Two days later, Kon was back at Arkham undercover again. The Bats had caught Bane nearly 12 hours earlier after Red Hood showed up midway through the fight, lept off the overpass, and landed a blow directly to the top of Bane's head with a metal pipe on the way down. The behemoth of a man had crashed hard into the cement, immediately unconscious, and been taken directly to Arkham's medical facilities as soon as he arrived. He'd been checked over and cleared to head to his usual room in less than 15 minutes once he woke up the following afternoon.

Kon found out all of this afterwards. 

He was headed back to the briefing room for his nect assignment after lunch when he spotted four senior guards, Collins, Ryans, Dorr, and Miles, escorting Bane from medical to his usual cell. He stepped into a doorway to let them pass by before continuing on his way. Kon had spent a productive lunch break chatting with Jasmine "please don't call me Fenton" while she waited for Dr. Rylie before he had to head back to the guards room so he wouldn't be late. He'd have to make sure to catch up with Dr. Rylie on the way out at the end of the day instead, Kon mused.

There was a shout behind him. Two bodies slamming hard into the walls on either side of the hall. A rush of fabric sliding across fabric. Rapid pounding footsteps.

Kon spun letting out a gasp as he saw Bane grab Jasmine's upper arm and yank her hard enough to make her stumble. The large man turned to face the guards behind him as he pulled her firmly back against his chest. Kon had the dart gun in his hands and leveled at Bane before he even realized he was moving. Dorr and Ryans had also already done the same. Miles was scrambling to his feet, drawing both his dart gun and baton. Collins slid to the ground, right shoulder visibly dislocated from hitting the wall at the wrong angle but he drew his tranquilizer dart gun as well.

"Weapons down or I'll snap her skinny little neck." Bane growled out, shaking Jasmine as emphasis. Her braid swung from the force of it. 

Kon expected her to panic. He was panicking; a full grown, fully recognized superhero. Of course, he expected her to panic.

But Jasmine didn't. 

Her expression smoothed out turning from barely-there surprise to blank calm in the span of a few seconds. Her breathing stayed deep and even. Her heart beat steady was steady. Was she in some kind of shock? But he had never heard of someone reacting like that to shock before.

"Back up! Let him through!" Dr. Rylie shouted to Kon and the other guards from where he had pressed himself against the wall on the opposite side from Bane. He must have been just a few steps ahead of Jasmine.

"She's my student! Let him through!" Dr. Rylie screamed again. His voice high pitched with fear for his intern. 

Kon didn't know what to do. From the way Ryans and Dorr were exchanging looks, he wasn't sure they knew what the best approach was in this situation either. Of the five of them, Ryans was the most senior guard but he wasn't one of the six guards trained for hostage negotiations either. None of the scenarios they had trained for would work here. Jasmine was too similar in height to Bane for a good shot and a single tranquilizer wouldn't knock him out anyway. They couldn't possibly circle around behind him in this narrow hallway either.

Kon could practically taste the panic building in the air. The tension was rising. If he didn't think fast someone else was going to make the first move and Jasmine would get hurt and -

She sighed.

Long, heavy, and disappointed. It felt like every muscle in Kon's body locked up suddenly.

"Mr. Bane, remove your hands from my person, please. I will give you to one to comply." She said voice calm and heavy like - like she was disappointed in him?

Kon's stared at her bland expression in shock for a moment before his eyes darted back to Bane. The rogue looked momentarily stunned then started laughing.

"Five." Jasmine said, ignoring his laughter. Kon felt himself paling. His colleagues were shifting, white faced with fear as they traded glances again.

"Four." She continued. Bane snorted derisively at her.

"Did you really think that would work?" He asked. His arms tightened around her. There was no way Jasmine was getting out of this without bruises.

"Three." She said ignoring Bane's question. Holy shit. Had she lost her mind?

"What can you even do if I don't?" Bane mocked with a rabid gleam in his eye. He's going to kill her, Kon realized faintly, even if we let him go now he's going to snap her neck for this.

"Two." 

"Jasmine..." Kon whispered pained and horrified by his realization. Loosening his grip on the dart gun without meaning too. She met his gaze across the hall, eyes resolved. 

"One." She finished, brows furrowing slightly in concentration as her lips thinned, pressed together. Bane gave a derisive snort. 

And then the massive man was airborne. 

"Holy shit." Miles breathed out.

Kon stared at the crater in the floor. Collins and Dorr were absolutely silent, hearts racing in their chests. Ryans took a half step forward, heart stuttering - Kon really hoped the man wasn't about to have a heart attack because he could rush him to medical right now. Dr. Rylie was half collapsed against the wall he'd been pressing himself against a strangled sound of shock coming from his throat. Bane was embedded in the floor breath wheezing as Jasmine half knelt on top of his neck. Oh wow, Kon registered, Bane's arm is fucked.

"Now, do you know what you've done wrong?" Jasmine asked looking down at the giant.

"Yes, Ma'am." Bane choked out.

"Fucked with the wrong HBIC." Collins muttered under his breath faintly still stunned.

"Jasmine for president." Miles whispered back automatically.

"Boys," Dorr scolded as he half lowered his dart gun, shifting his weight at the same time.

"Won't be making her angry around that time of month." Ryans mumbled to himself softly enough that Kon was the only person who could have possibly heard him. 

"What did you do wrong?" Jasmine pressed. Collins choked back an inappropriate hysterical giggle at the question. Bane appeared to panic when he realized he'd have to respond. 

No wonder, Kon thought, the man literally grew up in Santa Prisca's prisons. Did he even know how to respond to -Kon choked on air - a maternal scolding?! What the ever loving fuck? He bluescreened. Stood there in the hallway, absolutely stunned, completely unaware of his surroundings as he struggled to process the fact that Jasmine was giving Bane a maternal scolding in the middle of an Arkham hallway right in front of him. Maybe I've finally gone nuts? Kon wondered. 

Jasmine gestured vaguely towards the group of them without turning to look and Kon snapped back to the present. 

"Kyle here is going to take you to see the nurse and then back to your room then. I'm sure you'll behave for him?" Oh shit, that's me she's talking about. Kon walked towards her still a bit numb.

"Yes, Ma'am. I'll behave." Bane answered her. Kon watched as Jasmine stood up carefully and backed away from Bane far enough for him to pull himself out of the crater in the floor. Once he was on his feet, Kon led Bane back towards medical realizing as he did that there had been four other guards behind him this whole time.

Two of them darted forward and scooped up Collins, probably to take him to the guards medical ward along the outer wall patrol route. The other two fell in with Kon, Dorr, Miles, and Ryans. As they walked away Kon could hear Jasmine talking to Dr. Rylie.

"I'm fine, really. My mother was an extremely skilled martial artist. I've been learning from her since I started to walk." She explained honestly, trying to sooth the frazzled doctor's nerves. "I didn't know he was heavy enough to break the floor though!" Jasmine laughed. 

That - heart beat uneven, vocal cords tense - that second part was a lie.

#Meta Jazz Arkham Intern Therapist #Meta Jazz #Arkham Intern Therapist #Meta Jazz AIT #AIT #MJAIT #dc x dp #dcxdp #dp x dc #dpxdc #Jazz/Kon #Feel free to add on #Not sure if I'll continue this or not #We'll see what happens #If I do it will still be under the same tag though so if you follow it you'll still be fine. #You have no idea how hard it was coming up with all these names #Most of them are the result of auto-correct saying no lol #If there's another part it will probably be either Jazz or Tim POV #Jazz might confront Kon about his super strength because she is hardcore judging him rn #Tim because when he hears about the Bane Incident from Kon he can definitely tell his friend has a crush #Kon hasn't realized it yet #Jazz has though #If Tim's POV Danny will definitely turn up #I have so many ideas ya'll #But like #No time to write #save me #my original post

[likeabxrdinflight]

Do you have a few quick tips for writing Arkham intern Harlem Quinzel realistically, for fic writers?

I'm only marginally familiar with the Batman world (mostly I've just watched the Harley Quinn cartoon and I've seen the dark knight lol). I also don't have experience in a forensic setting or high security hospital- I currently work in an inpatient setting, but it's a minimum security combo geriatric/adult unit. They don't allow patients at risk of violence on my unit at all, so I suspect my experiences would be wildly different from a maximum security unit like Arkham is supposed to be.

From what I know of Arkham as it's set up in the Batman world, it seems to be some bizarre combination of psychiatric unit and prison. I don't think anyone has really figured out which- obviously they call it "Arkham Asylum", but I can't imagine any modern psych unit looks at all like Arkham.

The biggest difference between Arkham and the real world is that, on a real psychiatric ward, you are not held there indefinitely. Insurance doesn't pay for it, for one thing, and they don't want to keep beds full that long- psych wards are giant revolving doors and there's never enough beds. Longest I've ever seen a patient stay was about two months, and even that was only because the social workers were fighting to get him into an assisted living community for discharge. So even though you do surrender your right to decide when you get to leave when you're admitted to a psych unit, you will eventually be discharged. If you're not safe to live in the community, you will probably get discharged to some kind of long term care facility- it won't be a hospital. Those kinds of "asylums" shut down in the '80s during the deinstitutionalization process that happened during the Reagan administration.

So Arkham seems, to me at least, to function more like a prison in that regard. So I guess that might be how I'd rebrand it in a fic, if you're going for realism and a modern day setting- it's a prison with a forensic psychiatry/psychology team. Those do exist in the real world. But it's not a place I'd ever want to work in- I have a hard enough time with the hospital tbh.

You could make it a true asylum if you set your story back in the mid 20th century- but I also couldn't tell you what it was like being an intern back than on those types of units either. They don't exist anymore.

What I will say about being a present day intern on a modern psych unit is this- the nurses run the show. they see everything and have the most direct contact with patients. don't tell the psychiatrists this, they think they're the ones running things, but they meet with patients for like ten minutes a day, and maybe briefly during morning rounds. they don't know what actually goes on. interns like myself don't have much power at all- we'll run therapy groups, if you're lucky you'll be on a unit that allows for individual cases. it's short-term work since patients rarely stay more than two weeks. that's usually even shorter for a depression/BPD case, longer for severe psychosis that might take a while for the meds to kick in. speaking of, medication is the most important thing on a unit- it's all about stabilizing patents on the right dose of meds so they can get the hell out of there. the therapy is a sidenote, the psychiatrists are less concerned with it. there will be social workers and maybe an OT staff facilitating post-discharge care and some other groups while on the unit. social workers do all the work getting referrals to outside therapy if the patients don't have that already. again, the goal is for them to leave ASAP so they can fill your bed with someone else.

as an intern, especially if you're a therapist, you're gonna struggle working within this rigid, hierarchical system that looks more and more antiquated every year. our job is to empathize with our patients, to support them. we're trained (hopefully) to see people as whole people, not a list of symptoms for a medication regimen. (there are good psychiatrists out there though that will be really kind and helpful, but in my experience, the therapists are often invaluable for reminding the medical doctors that hey, sometimes it's trauma and not psychosis). you're gonna walk a thin line between commiserating with patients about how awful the hospital is and being part of a treatment team that is supposed to think the hospital is a good thing. I'm very bad at walking this line.

Ultimately it's nothing like Arkham. most patients are super chill honestly, and a lot are already familiar with the mental health care system. running groups is pretty easy because you'll usually have at least one or two people who are actually engaged. I frequently hear that patients like the interns/therapy staff because we're not doctors, we don't make decisions about their care outside of what skill we're gonna teach in group, and we do tend to align with them and listen. I've never felt particularly nervous or uncomfortable around patients- except one, who did get aggressive with me.

in the event that a patient does get agitated or aggressive, standard "restraint" if they cannot be otherwise calmed or redirected is an injection of haldol and ativan. they should ask your consent first, but a no can be overruled if they decide it's necessary. manual restraints are rare, but they do happen, typically only to get the drugs in you. this probably happens more often on a higher security unit than mine. it's not a pretty thing to watch. security gets called, it's a whole ordeal and probably does more harm than good for the patient. we know this. we have no better alternatives, aggression can't be tolerated for the safety of other patients/staff. it's a lose-lose situation.

you have no freedom on these units. no access to your phone, no computers, no internet. you don't decide when you go home. the rooms are like sterile dorms, nothing but a bed, a table, some shelves. you can bring in books and paper to color with, but you're only getting crayons. sorry if you wanted a pen or pencil, those are considered sharps, can't have them. you get visitors during specified visiting hours, no other time. meals are regulated, meds are distributed when they're distributed. you'll go to the groups because you're bored. there is nothing to do. if you're lucky you'll be admitted with some other nice patients and you might make a friend. I've seen this happen, patients will form little friend groups and promise to keep in touch after discharge. I never know if they do or not, but I hope so, because it's one of the most positive things I see happen there.

it's a very mixed bag. my unit is considered one of the "better" ones in new york city, and it's...........it's deeply flawed. but this is what it's been like, from what I've observed over the past nine months working there. so that's the reality of a modern day, minimum security psych unit. I hope some of this is helpful.

[mayorocobblepot]

I'm Not Crazy, You're Crazy

A concept-continuing starter for @fearsewn

This was insane.

That was the only thought Oswald could summon about the whole arrangement, ironically. That it was completely and utterly insane. For one, he was intentionally collaborating with the Scarecrow. Which was insane for a myriad of reasons, primarily that he didn't collaborate. Not anymore. He was Oswald Cobblepot. The King of Gotham. THE power player in the Gotham Underworld. He didn't need to be collaborating with a wingnut loose cannon like the Scarecrow.

Except he did. Goddamn leg of his was going to get him killed in Blackgate. So he needed to not go to Blackgate. Which meant he needed a shrink to sign a lot of paperwork, a shrink that he knew wouldn't flip on him to the authorities no matter what. A shrink that hated them as much as he did. A fellow rouge. The Scarecrow.

And so that most unlikely partnership was formed. Oswald agreed to submit himself to a standard diagnostic process under the Scarecrow's legitimate front, Dr. Crane, and in return the food doctor would give him medical assurance that he'd spend his occasional internments in the far cushier facilities of Arkham. Oswald wasn't really sure WHAT it was that Crane got from the arrangement....and he was just ignoring that terrifying thought for the time being.

So for the second time, he went through the unsettlingly bland, midcentury waiting room into the unsettlingly bland midcentury office, and sat himself in a chair that was embarrassingly too large for him, with his back to Earth's most unsettling office art decision. He put the umbrella that was standing in for a cane today gently aside and curled his legs up beneath him, refusing to submit to the humiliation of dangling his legs, straightened his suit, which was a rather flamboyant shimmering purple velvet today, and leveled his steely gaze at the unsettlingly blank, insultingly tall, beige man before him.

"Well. I came back." He said. He'd made his choice. He was going forward with this. The Scarecrow was going to be his therapist for at least two months. Oh God, this was INSANE. Crane stayed silent a moment too long, so he added with a demanding wave of his hand, "So....do psychology."

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

The Best Things ~ J.V. (part 12)

A/n: I would like to apologize for not marking warnings on each part like I should have been. I get too excited to post and skip over them on accident. I’ll do my best to add them from here on! Also, I was adding the warnings as I wrote but then they didn’t save so I tried to remember them as best I could. If I forgot anything, I sincerely apologize.

Warnings: Recounting past trauma (physical abuse, homophobia), explicit talk of death, badly handling others’ trauma, light smut (foreplay: slapping, choking, degradation, daddy kink, handcuff restraining, brat/dom dynamic, punishing, teasing, masterbation)

Word Count: 5200+

MASTERLIST

The air was so thick with tension that a knife could have cut through it. No matter how much Harley was fighting his instincts to lounge and be himself - the self Jeremiah was used to, at the very least - he felt like he had to be the self he used to be. The one Bruce was expecting. Jeremiah knew Harley was trying too hard, and Jeremiah was far too easy to read - which meant that Bruce knew too. So Harley sat there trying to behave and Bruce sat there brimming with suspicion and pain and hesitation and Jeremiah sat between the two boys, wishing this had never happened and he could just escape the two brothers who seemed seconds from either running or fighting.

Echo, as if sent from God, walked into the room with a pitcher of water. They were at Jeremiah's instead of Wayne manor as Harley had absolutely no intention of being back there or anywhere near Alfred. The butler was far too good at accepting change, which meant that the man might pick up on the fact that Harley was no longer Y/n and the whole thing would fall apart. Honestly, it seemed like so much work. Harley wasn't sure why this plan was so important but Jerome was feeding off of it so Harley did it anyway because he'd said he would. If this is where Jerome lead, Harley would follow.

"So," Echo cut into the silence as she walked around pouring drinks. "How is everyone this evening?"

Harley smiled at her, amused. She was poorly hiding a sort of awkward expression that was dashed with a little humor. She was mocking them in her head; Harley could almost hear what she was thinking. A bunch of dumb boys sitting around a table unable to swallow their pride. Idiots. "Oh you know," Harley mumbled casually, shrugging. "Indulging." He motioned to his food but his words were obviously directed at the ambiance.

"Having a good time?" Echo asked.

"Not at all," Harley immediately answered with the same casual, chipper tone. Jeremiah choked on his drink as he laughed at the exchange. The humor delivered saltiness in Harley's voice and the passive aggressive mocking in Echo's had always been an exchange that could make Jeremiah chuckle at least a little. Echo and Harley were very good at banter and it lightened the mood significantly every time they went at it. After all, it was just in good fun. Bruce seemed to relax as a smile curled everyone else's lips. "So... Harley." His lips seemed to want to reject the name.

Harley's smile dropped. Hearing Bruce call him that made him uncomfortable. Not just because he was nervous about Bruce not calling him Y/n as he had all up until this point but because he had cut Bruce out of this new life very purposefully and now... he was in it anyway. "Yes?"

Echo sighed and left the room as she sensed Harley jerk back, even with her attempt to loosen everyone up. Jeremiah focused on his food. Bruce looked at Harley but Harley did not look back, instead choosing to stare at the door Echo had gone through. "Why Harley?"

That was an easy question. "When I was in Arkham, a few of the guards used to beat the shit out of me every single day to try and convince me to be straight." Harley looked Bruce in the eye when he said this, completely calm. He had long since gotten over it. "They even put me in isolation to keep me away from people who might protect me or care about me."

"Jerome." Bruce didn't form it like a question.

Harley answered anyway. "Yes. But see this is a smaller world than everyone thought and my therapist, Harleen Quinzel, became my friend instead. She's like me, but for girls." Bruce nodded, accepting that. "They couldn't kill me without having to mark me as a loss. That and they'd have lost their punching bag. To teach me a lesson, they killed her. And then made sure the TV that was never supposed to be on the news would be on the news, on just the channel and at just the time that would allow me to see her bloody, bruised, cold, dead body strewn out for the public to see. And no one gave a single shit because no crimes in Gotham get solved unless someone important is involved. And even then- well, you know first hand."

Bruce's expression grew very dark. "I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't," Harley purred, still eating as if he was talking about the weather.

Jeremiah has stopped eating. "People are really like that?" His voice was small and his eyes moved to Bruce, his hands tightening around his silverware as if picturing Bruce's face cold and dead and staring at him through a TV. Bruce felt his eyes and looked back to Jeremiah, but the red head averted his gaze to Harley instead. "I mean, people really act like that just because of... how someone loves?"

Harley nodded, swallowing the food in his mouth. It tasted like sand but he kept eating it. It made him feel powerful to while the others in the room had forgotten their food altogether. Although... Perhaps he hadn't chewed it as well as he thought because it felt as if it had gotten stuck somewhere along the way. A thick lump had lodged for a second and a sick feeling had settled in the bottom of his stomach. He hadn't thought about that image in so long... the daily bearings and the isolation and the one ray of light he'd gotten being extinguished and displayed because he had dared to be himself and therefore allowed her to do the same. Because they were different than how most people were.

"Do you know who did it?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah." That didn't seem to be the answer Bruce was expecting. "This isn't great table conversation," Harley eased, changing the subject. "But that is why I go by Harley. Do you like it?"

Bruce shrugged. "Do you still go by Wayne?"

Internally, Harley sighed. "Harley Quinn."

At that Bruce nodded. "You're not coming back are you?"

Harley laughed dryly. "You're not very good at casual, light conversation are you Brucey?"

"Don't call me that," Bruce snapped, body going stiff.

Rolling his eyes, Harley sat back in his seat. "Why not?" It came out harsher than Harley had meant it.

Meeting hostility with hostility, Bruce got angry as well. "Because that's what Jerome called me, and after how many times he tried to kill me it's not a name I like."

"Get over it," Harley sneered. "It's just a name and we're in Gotham. Trauma is kind of a part of life here. Adapt or get trampled."

Bruce jerked back. "Get over it? Since when are you...?" He trailed off, as if hesitating, before his face set and he finished his sentence with a much harder tone. "Like Jerome."

Harley felt his knuckles turn white. "Stop saying that like it's a bad thing." "It is!" Bruce hissed.

Harley shot to his feet, dropping his silverware on the table. Jeremiah flinched but Harley didn't notice. Bruce did. "Look, Jerome is fucked up and dark and broken. He doesn't have a grip on reality or know how to human because he wasn't fucking treated like one. He killed people. He was crazy and insane and unhinged and dangerous. Yeah! You know what else he was? He was understanding and accepting. He got why people lived their lives differently than he did and didn't really judge anyone, ever. He thought they were boring and chose to live differently, sure, but he lived to make people laugh and have fun. Maybe his sense of fun was fucked up, but he genuinely just wanted people to laugh along with him for once. He didn't hide who he really was. He wasn't ashamed. He didn't shun me and shove me in a corner and try to change me. He accepted who I was. He CELEBRATED me. I'd rather be with him than at this stupid fucking dinner or anywhere near you because I'm not some poor gay boy who needs saving. I'm strong and I matter and I FINALLY love myself, and you won't ever take that away from me because you see self respect and see Jerome because no one taught you that you are more important than everyone else. I refuse to sit here and let you try and turn me into some pathetic whiny brooding mess who's never happy because my priorities are fucked up. I won't be you. That isn't my goal anymore."

The room was dead quiet. For a long time, no one said anything. The brothers just stared each other down until Bruce shook his head. "Perhaps this was a bad idea."

Jeremiah pinched the bridge of his nose. "You guys are idiots." The other two in the room looked at the red head with shock. "My brother is dead, and honest to god it's a relief that he is. He's out of my life and I'm safe from him. I never had the chance to have a real relationship with him. I used to read the newspaper about your family and think that you guys were some kind of dream. Two brothers that loved each other despite everything and parents that were like... actually good people on any level." He sighed. "Obviously I was wrong. You're too busy trying to make him how he used to be." This he directed at Bruce. "And you're too busy hurting and bottling up your emotions and pushing everyone away to let anyone care about you or see the real you." This was for Harley. Jeremiah didn't stop when both other boys went to speak though. "Just shut up and make this work because you guys are the only true family you each have left. Harley, you grew up and I have to say you wear your changes very well. You're happier and sturdier and if someone isn't happy about that then they're insane. Right, Bruce?"

The Wayne boy hesitated before giving in. "Yeah. I am happy for you. I should have started with that. I just... I'm scared for you."

"Why?" Harley demanded, exasperated.

"Because I don't want you to become Jerome. I don't want you to end up like that. I don't want you to be some criminal, when you used to be the best person I knew. You said your life goal used to be being like me? No. I wanted so much to be like you. You couldn't speak about a huge part of you, but you accepted it with the knowledge no one else ever would. I refused to even look at the fact that I'm attracted to guys until you and Jerome got together and then..." his eyes shot to Jeremiah and then back. "Things happened and- and you were always so bright and happy and free. Like a bird in flight or- something." He shook his head. "You were inspiring, Y/n. Seeing you like this... it looks like you've been broken. And I just want to bring back that light you had before. When you seemed so much happier."

"I'm not broken." Harley looked at the boy who was supposed to be his brother. The boy who used to be his best friend before one lie after another had pulled them further and further apart until they were on completely opposite sides. Secrets had torn their relationship up into so many little bits it could never be repaired. They were just too different now. "I'm not lost or struggling. I'm just not... sitting there and pretending all the bad things aren't happening. The friends I have now actually like and respect me as a person, not just because I'm Y/n Wayne. I'm myself, proudly, and I wear my experiences as a reminder of what I can endure. Things hurt less. What you see isn't some poor boy waiting to be saved. It's darkness. And maybe that scares you, because you're used to hiding your darkness. But darkness, Bruce, isn't a bad thing. Darkness is what makes us who we are. Like everything it can be used as a weapon, but Darkness itself isn't dangerous. What you do with it is."

Bruce considered that for a long time. "That... is a good point."

Jeremiah released a breath. "So... truce?" The boys looked at each other before shrugging. Harley sat back down. Jeremiah seemed pleased. "Okay, now lets talk about something a little more pleasant."

"So you mean literally anything other than what any of us have been up to recently?" Harley sassed. Jeremiah shot him a look. "Okay fine whatever." He searched for some light conversation. "So you guys are like boyfriends now or what?"

That seemed to make Bruce and Jeremiah both blush and the air in the room cleared significantly. Harley pulled off being cheery and invested as he teased and prodded and asked questions and engaged. Things almost seemed like they used to be when Bruce and Y/n would sit with their parents and Bruce mentioned a girl and Y/n would go off about how he was going to be the best man or the world would surely end... but Harley wasn't Y/n and Jeremiah wasn't their parents. This wasn't Wayne Manor and as good of a server as Echo was, she wasn't a butler. She wasn't Alfred.

Under the light tone, Harley formed a plan. A plan he carried out as he and Bruce began to hang out more and more as time passed that night and stretched for a while. Jerome became nocturnal in favor of being awake when Harley finally returned at home. The boys would spend some time together and then sleep and then Harley would wake up and go out and spend time with Bruce and Jeremiah again. Slowly the time with the other boys began to cut into Harley's time with Jerome and both he and Harley were getting restless. They'd begun arguing about it.

"Stay in tonight," Jerome whined.

"Bruce wants me to come back to Wayne manor tonight." Harley sighed, an odd expression on his face. "I've finally earned his trust and am getting along with him - as much as it pains me. I think Jeremiah is talking to him when I'm not around, convincing him to behave and respect my boundaries. He calls me Harley and has stopped expecting me to be the person I used to be. I don't know, I think he'll be enough to convince Alfred though I might have to try a tad harder." He rubbed his forehead. "Soon I'm sure I'll be chummy with them again and that'll definitely lead to interacting with all of Bruce's friends - which will be a whole other adventure of its own."

Jerome huffed. "If you're going back to Wayne manor, won't Bruce want you to move back in?"

The thought had occurred to Harley if he was being honest. Where did he draw the line in being buddy buddy with his brother again? Where did he stop things? How far did Jerome want him to go? "Probably," Harley voiced, shrugging. There was a long pause. Jerome was more guarded than he usually was and it set Harley on edge. When the red head did speak, it was in a dangerously quiet tone. "Would you go?"

"W- would you want me to?" Harley was distracted by the way Jerome's Adam's Apple moved when he swallowed.

Jerome hummed. "So this is still about what I want?"

That made Harley defensive. "You think I'm dealing with my arrogant brother because I want to?" It had a biting edge to it.

"And what about my brother?" Jerome pushed.

Now Harley was confused. "Jerome I did all of this for you. To convince them you were dead so you'd be free to have some free time and then make your grand entrance whenever you wanted to. I did this because you asked me to." Jerome rolled his eyes. "You've been gone a lot. You come home... lighter. You enjoy your time with them."

"I'm sorry, you WANT me to come home miserable?" Harley sneered, his hands coiling into fists.

Jerome's eyes darkened. Harley realized what was happening. Before he could react, Jerome's hand shot out, fingers curling around Harley's throat. Jerome pressed his boyfriend against the closest wall, his face close and words sharp like knives. "You're getting angry again. Talking to me like that, as if I'm one of our dumb brothers or that blonde idiot Jeremiah carries around. You might have been gone for a while now, but SURELY not long enough to have forgotten to respect me."

Harley gasped, eyes fluttering closed. Jerome's grip wasn't dangerous but it could go that way if Harley wasn't careful. Jerome only ever got like this when he was frustrated. Usually when he was bored and wanted to do something other than sit around. To be fair, he was cooped up which was something he HATED to be. He hated feeling trapped. And on top of that Harley had been spending less and less time around the place. It was a miracle the redhead had behaved so long. Harley had spent more nights with Jeremiah, talking to Bruce so late into the night and fake catching up and playing nice that it was just easier for them both stay at Jeremiah's. Alfred had even gotten used to a simple text from Bruce letting the older man know where he was and that he was safe. If Bruce wasn't home by 10pm Alfred had come to expect that he wouldn't be back at all. It had become a sort of habit.

Perhaps Harley had been a tad neglectful.

He sighed, letting his guard down and releasing all the tension he'd gained from being around Bruce. Jerome didn't deserve this. "I'm sorry, you're right." Jerome didn't let up. "Oh so you shoot me puppy dog eyes and say sorry and that's supposed to be it?" Harley could feel his insides warming as Jerome grew closer, the air in the room slowly becoming infected with sexual tension. The sudden mood change was hard for Y/n to switch gears to, even though he was immediately eager. "You've forgotten who you belong to."

"I-"

Jerome's hand tightened on Harley's throat, cutting off any attempt to speak. "What was that?" Harley coughed a little as the initial shock took him off guard. His eyes fluttered but he could still breathe which is what mattered. "Come on, Harley. Come on, Y/n." Harley jerked at the name. "Is that what you want me to call you? Is that who you want to be?"

Harley wasn't dealing with that shit. His body jerked, arms wrapping around Jerome. He pulled hard, twisting to turn Jerome around so he'd have to let Harley go, or risk hurting his arm. As predicted, Jerome let go. Harley twisted their bodies with extreme force, pushing Jerome's face into the wall aggressively. "What the fuck did you call me?" He growled. The words were raw from his throat being a little sore. It made Jerome smile. "Answer me. Now." Harley let his free hand thread into Jerome's hair. He pulled, the red head squirming underneath him as it began to hurt. "I said, now."

"I called you Y/n," Jerome answered softly. His tone was half reluctance and half defiance. He didn't want to answer Harley like he'd been told to, but saying the name again did give him power.

Harley leaned back, pulling Jerome away from the wall just by his hair. He dragged him over to the bed. "Kneel. Now." Jerome was giggling as Y/n hurt him, getting off on the pain. "NOW, Valeska!" Jerome smirked, taking his precious time with following the order. When he was down, Y/n maneuvered his face into the bed. "Stay there. If you move, I will know and you will be punished. I will be back in a moment." He left Jerome there, ducking out of the bedroom to the trunk in the bathroom, shoved in the closet. He opened it, pushing around some things they'd collected in their time together. This was the stuff they used when things got more kinky. Handcuffs Jerome had gotten from cops even before he and Y/n were together. Rope from a construction sight. Some things were specifically from sex stores - stolen of course.

Ignoring most of it, Harley grabbed the handcuffs and went back into the room. He returned to see Jerome had indeed moved. In fact he was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands. He was smirking at Harley, a dare in his eyes. The red head seemed to be expecting Harley to lose his shit, but Harley didn't. Instead, he got very still, thinking. That seemed to actually make Jerome nervous.

Slipping the handcuffs into his back pocket, Harley slowly approached Jerome. His eyes cut into Jerome's soul, his jaw so tightly shut that Jerome shivered. "What, you think you're going to look at me and-?"

Jerome didn't get to finish his sentence. Out of nowhere, unexpectedly, Harley backhanded Jerome, causing the sitting boy's head to snap to the side. The red head was shocked, but found his stomach twisting with the familiar sensation of arousal. This wasn't like when he was a kid. Harley was calm and controlled - even his hit was direct. There was a safety in the way that Harley controlled himself. Jerome didn't fear him. It left room to enjoy what was happening. Harley gripped Jerome's jaw, bringing the red head's brown eyes around to meet his. "What did I say when I left the room, Jerome?" Harley not using a pet name in a sexual situation made Jerome shift nervously. Was Harley actually mad? "You told me not to move."

Harley released a breath, smirking as he got turned on just by getting Jerome to answer his question without being pushed. When Jerome was being bratty, he refused Harley any amount of control. So when he let up even the smallest amount, it never failed to excite Harley. "And what did you do?" Unwilling to let Harley win twice in a row, Jerome shrugged. Harley slapped him again. The red head blinked, breathing sharply outward as he felt the stinging on his face. "I moved."

A hum came from Harley as he stood, crossing his arms. "You know I had to punish you for using the wrong name, but it was going to be pretty light. Now..." Jerome shivered under that look - like Harley was trying to figure just how to kill him. "I'm going to take your clothes off Jerome. If you fight me, you'll get immediate punishment do you understand?" Jerome nodded. Harley rose an eyebrow.

"Yes, Daddy."

That seemed to please Harley. He stopped glaring at least. First Harley removed Jerome's shirt. Then he gently nudged Jerome, and the redhead followed the flow and laid back on the bed. Harley then removed his pants, and his socks one at a time. Slowly. Jerome felt himself get antsy. "Do you want something, baby?" Harley asked evenly.

"I'm fine," Jerome responded.

Unfortunately for him, his erection gave him away. "You don't want me to do... anything?" Harley asked again, pausing to look at Jerome very carefully.

The redhead looked back for a long time, a battle happening between the two men. Jerome lost. "Jesus Christ Harley, touch me."

That got Harley to smile. "Ask nicely J, or I'm going to have to punish you." Jerome went to glare but Harley reached up, threading his fingers through Jerome's hair and pulling roughly. "Listen here bitch, I'm not here to mess around. You're going to listen to me or you're going to regret it, understand?" They had come a long way since having sex in a cell and trying to keep quiet. Back then, Harley had fumbled and blushed a lot and been overwhelmed very easily. Back then, Jerome would stretch out, getting comfortable as he bossed Harley around - a true power bottom. Or, he would top, and then he'd get very soft and quiet and affectionate... Well, compared to how he usually was when he was impossible to please and degrading to an extent that had driven Harley insane.

Now adays, things were different. There was a huge power play between the two men constantly, and endlessly pushing buttons. What would often happen was that Harley would be a bit of a brat but otherwise let Jerome blow off steam, unless it was a day that Jerome desperately wanted Harley to "take hold and ruin" him. A direct quote from the ginger. On those days, Jerome did what he did best: he kept talking. He said all the things he knew would piss off Harley the most, like calling him by his old name. He would make Harley snap and then Harley would retaliate exactly how he wanted.

Not today.

"Fuck, you're such a baby," Jerome grumbled, rolling his eyes. "I'm bored with you playing daddy, I already know all your moves and we both know that you're just going to give me what I want anyways. You're a soft top, Sweetheart." He was smirking, proudly flaunting the power he usually had over Harley.

Today though, Jerome had pushed him too much. After all the shit he'd gone through with Jeremiah and Bruce, hearing Jerome call him Y/n had pushed him in a way that had sent him over the edge. And if he was being honest, he had his own frustrations. He wanted to run free as much as Jerome did and break things and scream as loudly as he wanted and sock his stupid brother in his face any time he dare even mention Jerome's name in Harley's presence. He was tired of behaving. He was tired of feeling like some toy. He was tired of being used. He was really, REALLY fucking tired of being ignored, too.

Harley's smile was dangerous. Jerome looked at him, unsure of what was going through the other boy's head. "You know, you have a little too much attitude for someone who's currently desperate for me to touch him. You want something from me? You need to learn some respect." Harley reached over, grabbing Jerome's wrist and forcing it toward the top of the bed. It happened so fast that only when Harley had used one cuff to get Jerome's right hand, and then had threaded the second cuff through the bars at the head of the bed, did Jerome react.

"HEY!"

At the outburst, Harley didn't hesitate to slap Jerome again. The redhead gasped, body shivering. He would absolutely never admit it, but this kind of aggression had always turned him on, when he was comfortable with the person. He'd wanted someone to be like this with him for ages, but not many people were willing to go far enough to please Jerome Valeska. By the way Harley was looking at him right now, this time might be different.

"I didn't give you permission to speak. Granted, I didn't tell you to shut up either so I'll be forgiving, but if you shout at me one more time you will regret it." He gripped Jerome's other wrist, cuffing that as well. Now Jerome's hands were over his head, trapped by the cuffs and the bar. "If you want to say something, I want you to address me first. I will allow you to continue then. Or I will not." Jerome hesitated, then nodded, intrigued by this side of Harley even he had not the pleasure of exploring before.

What came next surprised Jerome. Harley didn't take him right there, rough and hot. He didn't move slowly around and tease until Jerome wa a desperate mess of begs and whimpers. Harley didn't touch him at all. In fact, he moved off of the bed completely. He left the room even, returning a moment with a chair. Only then did he undo his own clothes, only lowering his pants enough to allow himself access his erection. He didn't even pull his pants off all the way! Jerome felt completely exposed, tied up and naked for viewing pleasure, when Harley was so far away and completely dressed.

To Jerome's intense frustration, Harley sat down on the chair and began stroking himself, eyes on Jerome. Harley's eyes were wide and lust blown, his tongue flicking out every once in a while to wet his lips. After a while, his eyes fluttered shut and his head tilted back just a little as a small moan came from him.

Jerome shifted. He was getting uncomfortable with how long he'd been hard without being touched, and watching Harley be like this was not helping. Jerome really liked to be involved in sexual acts. He had gotten rather pouty anytime Harley was caught masterbating, and there had been an unspoken rule that Harley didn't really restrain Jerome for stuff like this. If Harley wanted to be touched, Jerome would touch him. They both preferred it that way. This was ridiculous, and frankly rude. Jerome wasn't going to give Harley the upper hand. This was a low blow and he wasn't going to let Harley get away with it.

As Harley continued though, getting more into it and completely ignoring Jerome, it was becoming increasingly hard to keep his mouth shut. Trying to play it off like he didn't care as much as he did, Jerome finally spoke up. It had seemed an eternity for him, but it had actually only been a few seconds and Harley had to swallow his smile to not give himself away. "Okay Harley, very funny. Let me touch you. I'm sorry I called you the other name. You know I can do this better than you can. Let me out." When Harley continued to ignore Jerome, the cuffed ginger raised his voice. "LET ME OUT!"

"Why?" Harley growled, eyes finally on Jerome again. "Because you told me to? Because you asked me to?" He stood, pulling his pants up again. "I'm not your little bitch Jerome, you're mine. You want to kill someone? Fine. You want to steal or break something? Fine! But you don't call me by that name. You don't mess with me, because I'm all you got. If you want me to leave, you ask like a big kid."

Jerome's lips twitched, slowly rising into a smile. "Are you actually mad at me?"

Harley grinned. "No, not really." They both cracked up, losing it for a few extended seconds. Then Harley cut off and Jerome faded into quiet, soft chuckles as Harley began to speak. "I respect you, J. My little joker." He moved towards the bed, caressing Jerome's cheek. The ginger leaned into the touch, his eyes closing. He fed off of the contact, as if it was a drug or he was starving and the gesture fed him. Harley smiled softly. "You gotta respect me too. You don't have to piss me off to get me to break you, joker. All you have to do is ask me nicely, like a good boy. Do all the bad things you want. But not to me."

A sigh escaped Jerome, and then he finally gave in. "If I behave will you let me out? I want you to touch me. Please."

That pleased Harley. "That's what I wanted to hear." He leaned back a little, eyes scanning Jerome's exposed body. "I will let you out. And then it's time to play for real." His eyes glinted with a darkness that made Jerome jerk in expectation. Needless to say, Harley didn't disappoint.

-

Story Tags: @wanna-plan-world-domination​

#jerome valeska #jerome valeska x male reader #jerome velaska imagine #gotham #male reader #cameron monaghan #joker #joker x reader #joker imagine #joker x male reader #gotham x male reader #gothem imagine #gotham x reader #cameron monaghan x male reader #cameron monaghan x reader #cameron monaghan imagine #valeska twins #valeska twins imagine #valeska twins x reader #valeska twins x male reader

[gilbirda]

Friendly neighborhood vigilante. Chapter 1

Meet Jasmine Fenton: Smart, resourceful, kind and the very proud sister of Amity Park's own undead superhero Danny Phantom. Therapist at your service. Intern at Arkham Asylum. Can kick your ass. Likes tea and long walks at the beach.

Meet Jason Todd: Smart, resourceful, not-that-kind (if you say he's soft you may get knifed) and the very proud vigilante and protector of Crime Alley. Died for a while but got better. Holds grudges. Likes reading a nice book and the sound of the rain against the window.

They are neighbors now.

NOW WITH AMAZING ART BY GYANCASTLE

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]

Based on this post by @impyssadobsessions

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“And that’s the last of the boxes!” a booming voice awoke Jason from his post patrol nap that turned into a dreamless sleep.

The vigilante glanced at the windows and yep, it was morning already. Why was it morning? He didn’t want it to be morning, he wanted to sleep a bit more. Lately he didn’t have much time, being in the middle of seizing absolute control over Gotham’s underworld.

“Does my Jazzy-princess need anything else?” said the same voice. It was male, adult, and clearly not from this part of the town or even from Gotham.

Jason rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and his face and stood from the couch. Last night he had the foresight to take off the suit before collapsing, but not enough foresight to put everything away before sleeping. So now he had to shower, clean the suit, clean the weapons and ugh —

There was a loud bang from the apartment next door, followed by a loud “Danny!” and a “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

Oh joy. New neighbors.

Jason was ecstatic. (Not really)

Still, he needed to make sure that this new neighbor, who for some fucked up reason had decided to move in close to the East End and next to the only other one apartment occupied in this floor, was not some kind of criminal going after the Red Hood. Of course there shouldn’t be a single reason one would connect this run down apartment with one of Gotham’s most famous (anti) heroes, but being paranoid paid off.

No, he was not like Bruce. He just took care of wild cards and loose ends.

Before going to the kitchen to make breakfast, he decided to look through the peephole to get a glimpse of the people moving in next to his latest safehouse.

It took a minute or so, but he saw first a woman with short red hair walk past his door. She was wearing a full blue hazmat suit, with heavy boots and everything. In Gotham no one would turn to look with so many capes and people in costume, but it was weird seeing it from someone from out of town.

Next, a big man, about as big as Bruce, walked past his door, this time with an horrendous orange suit. Look, he wasn’t a fashionista or anything, but he had eyes and those suits were a crime against fashion.

It was another few minutes, and he was about to give up and make some breakfast, when a new person walked past his door. Weird. He didn’t hear any footsteps, and with the cheap linoleum of the hallway it was an amazing feat.

The person stopped right in front of his apartment door and turned with a tilted head, as if he were listening to something. It was a kid. Well, not exactly ‘a kid’ but he was younger than him and it was enough for Jason to consider him a kid. Probably twenty or something like that, but he fell on the scrawnier and shorter side. He only guessed his age because his face wasn’t as round as it would be for a younger person.

“Everything okay, Danny?” A voice he recognized as the one that screamed earlier called from outside of Jason’s field of view.

Danny’s eyes zeroed on the man’s, as if he could see him or something. It was impossible he knew he was there — Jason was skilled in stealth and knew how to control his breathing for cases just like these. Why did the kid’s blue eyes burn into his as if he stared right into his soul?

“Danny?” The voice said again, and this time Danny broke the staring contest, walking away from his door and walking back

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” He smiled at the owner of the voice. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay for a few days?”

“It’ll be fine, really!” Said the unnamed voice, female, young, also from out of Gotham. “If I need you I’ll just call.”

“And I’ll fly here right away.”

So they lived far enough from Gotham. Enough to require a flight there.

Whatever. They’ll be gone in a week. A month, tops.

***

Around the three week mark since his new neighbor moved in, Jason ran into a young woman at the elevator. He didn’t know her, so he just nodded in greeting and ignored her as he waited for her to click the button of her floor in the elevator panel first. It was the same as his. But nobody lived in —

Huh. That’s right. He had new neighbors.

He looked at her from the corner of his eye since this was the first time he had seen this mysterious person up close.

She was young, but older than the kid he saw through the peephole the other day. Older sister, maybe. Redhead, too, like her mother. Thin but strong, she held herself with the confidence of someone that worked out, but not built like his sister.

And she was looking at him.

“So this is my stop.” She said with a smile. When both walked out of the elevator she stopped and blinked. “Oh, you also stop here?”

She didn’t know they were the only ones on that floor?

“Yeah.” Jason tried not to be too friendly or too unfriendly. People remember your face if you are either of those.

They walked in relative silence to their door, the young woman — he needed a name soon at least to call her something less creepy in his head — stopping first at her door and looking at him when he pulled out his keys at the same time.

“You live next door! That’s fun.” Ugh, she smiled just like Dick. Was it an annoying older sibling trait? “I didn’t know someone lived there, it’s always so quiet.”

He used the apartment mainly to sleep, eat and recover from injuries; and he was usually pretty quiet when he was alone. But she didn’t need to know that.

Jason shrugged. “I don’t like the noise.”

“I know right? I also like the quiet — especially while reading. I know some people listen to music but I just can’t concentrate on the words if there’s too much noise.”

To be honest? She struck him as someone that read a lot. She had this librarian vibe. Or maybe a teacher? He wondered what she was doing in Gotham, and why hadn’t she left already.

“Read anything interesting?” He couldn’t stop the words from coming. It was automatic — interrogating and subtly getting information from this mysterious non-Gothamite that had the balls to move to this building.

“Oh, well, just stuff for my work. You’d think it’s boring.” She laughed it off, playing with her keys. Eyes down, biting her lip. Someone she cared about dismissed her passion.

That rubbed Jason the wrong way. “Try me.”

She smiled a little bit. “I’m currently halfway through ‘Into the Mind of the Murderer: Why did I do it?’ by Steven Morrison. It’s riveting! It is written by this dude that killed his abuser then decided to become a serial killer. He was caught, of course, but in his memoirs he explains the reasoning behind why and how. Also the perspective of time and reflection on his part allows for a more complete picture of — And I lost you, right?”

Jason blinked a few times, his mind kicking into overdrive. He was speechless, but not because he was bored by her review of the book. He was aware that true crime was all the rage right now and people read about famous serial killers for fun — but she said it was for her work.

“What did you say you work at?”

“Oh, um. I am a therapist. I mean, a psychiatrist that specializes in therapy. Uh, I focus more in criminals and their reinclusion into society.”

Fun. A fucking shrink lived next door. He hadn’t had good experiences with those.

When he didn’t say anything, she continued rambling. Nervous habit, it looked like. “I’m doing an internship at Arkham, actually. I guess you know what that is, since you are from here.” Then she laughed nervously, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“And you are still alive?” Jason managed to say, unable to process that this soft looking, smiley cinnamon roll could be a therapist at Arkham. They would devour her in mere days.

And yet, it has been three weeks.

His neighbor giggled. Honest to god girly giggles. “So far so good, Mister neighbor. I can take care of myself, but thanks for worrying.”

“Oh shit, I haven't introduced myself, right?” He hoped his expression was sheepish enough. “I’m Jason.” He extended his hand for her to shake.

“I’m Jasmine, but call me Jazz!” Her grip was firm, brief and professional. She wasn’t afraid of taking the lead.

Jazz smiled again, pulling her hair behind her ear, eyes confidently fixed in his. He didn’t get creepy vibes from her somehow. Instead, he felt like she was analyzing him as much as he was doing her.

His phone decided to ring in that moment, ending the conversation. He looked at who was the caller. It was Dick, so he had to take this, since his brother would throw a fit if he ignored his calls.

And so, the two said goodbye and Jason entered his apartment, preparing himself for the conversation. It could be a friendly call to ‘catch up’ or asking for help with a case with Bruce. Either way it was going to take a while.

Any thought about redhead neighbors that are therapists at Arkham left his mind after the hour and a half long conversation with Dick.

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