#she will always be our Harley Quinn

[zeldasnotes]

Synastry Analysis: Gypsy Rose Blanchard & Nicholas Godejohn

18+

⚠️TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of m*rder, r*pe, abuse.

(No birthtime for him)

His Lilith conjunct Her Ascendant: When a mans Lilith touches a womans personal planets or points he will be VERY into her. This will draw out a dark side of both individuals and make them have a very bad influence on eachother. ”Nick was so in love with her and so obsessed with her that he would do anything” says one article.

His Sun in her 8th house: Their relationship was very sexual and he even introduced her to bdsm. They meet at the movie theater to see the 2015 Cinderella movie, but end up having sex in the bathroom instead. He took her virginity and as Ive mentioned before we often have 8th house synastry with the person who takes our virginity. Their relationship was surrounded by darkness and revolved around 8th house themes: sex & death. 8th house according to ME shows someone whos our first with a lot not only sex because with this energy you will do stuff you wont do with others. He was the first one she confided in that she can actually walk.

His Moon in her 2nd house: 2nd house is a fixed house so it creates a very strong bond. + his moon being in scorpio so when he is into someone he is VERY into them. With his Moon conjunct Dejanira he is definitely weak when it comes to women and probably have a history of trauma himself. Moon 2nd house can make someone very devoted to someone bc 2nd house is a very stubborn house. 2nd house energy doesnt like to let go.

His Prey(6157) conjunct her Sun: Prey in synastry very often shows a relationship where one person prey on another. In this case it was both of them because she was trying to get him to kill for her and he wanted to r*pe her. ”In Mommy Dead and Dearest, Gypsy Rose also spoke on her relationship with Nick disclosing that he had raped her the night of her mother’s death. “I made a deal with him. I'd let him rape me and then he wouldn't do that to my mom,” she said after Nick allegedly tried to have sex with her mother’s corpse.”

His Valentine(447) conjunct her Jupiter: ”I was blindly in love. That was always very much the case,” he said, according to The Springfield News-Leader. 

His Psyche(16) conjunct her Moon: Psyche conjunct Moon shows a deep and unique relationship between two people. This is like ”the” bonding aspect according to me. With this aspect the Psyche person understands and feels for the moon person. Its also common between people who have been through similar things. Both of them were two very isolated people who happened to find eachother.

Her Neptune Opposite his Mars: They created a fantasy world together. ”Godejohn referred to his “evil side” because he and Gypsy had constructed an elaborate online fantasy life, mostly through a jigsaw puzzle of Facebook accounts. They were into BDSM imagery. They had specific names and roles for each other. They took pictures of themselves in costumes, Gypsy dressing up at one point as the comic book character Harley Quinn, posing with a knife. Reality and fantasy blended quite a lot, for both of them.”

Neptune also shows deception which he definitely experienced. He definitely thought the love between them was deeper than it actually was. ”Nick was “destroyed” by Gypsy’s decision to place most of the blame for her mother’s death on him.”

Gypsy's Natal Chart Analysis:

Nessus(7066) conjunct Ascendant: She suffered abuse through her childhood and teens and the abuse(Nessus) had to do with her body(Ascendant).

Dejanira in the 8th house: She was sexually abused by her grandfather. Dejanira at 21°(sagittarius degree) and jupiter is said to rule grandparents.

Libra Rising: Libra Risings can make someone very passive and spmeone who wants others to do the dirty work. Getting others to fight for them is something Ive seen a lot with this placement. Libra Risings are also relationship people and she found a partner who she married while still in prison.

Paine and Karma in the 10th house: Paine & Karma in the 10th house is common in the charts of people whos painful experiences are out there for everybody to see.

Rip in Libra and at 19°: A partner killed for her.

Fama in the 8th house: She became famous for 8th house themes.

Lilith in the 4th house: Lilith in our chart often show where we meet dark energies that affects us deeply and she did in her home and with her mother. The one supposed to protect her was instead the one to do the complete opposite. Her home was her hell.

Neptune 4th house: Decieved for most of her childhood. A childhood where every word she was told and her whole existence was a lie. This placement also shows a mother whos delulu.

Sado in the 4th house conjunct Moon: Her mother was sadistic. ”Dee Dee was sadistic in her methods — she shaved Gypsy's hair, alleging that she had leukemia, and got her teeth pulled out.””During the trial, Gypsy testified that her mother used to beat her and chained her to a bed.”

Moon Square Pluto: Moon Square Pluto is common in the charts of people who have a very problematic mother. It also shows a controlling mother which her mother was. “She controlled every aspect of my life,” Gypsy told the jury. Moon in Aquarius shows an emotionally detached mother.

11th house stellium: A LOT of fans and attention on media which is very common with Jupiter and Venus in the 11th house. ”Upon her release from prison, fans have been obsessed with Gypsy Rose’s story, empathizing with her as a victim. The Missouri native has over 6 million followers on TikTok and Instagram. Although Blanchard had an Instagram account before her release, she gained millions of supporters with her “first selfie of freedom” IG post that attracted over 6 million likes.”

©️ 2024 Zeldas Notes All Rights Reserved

#astro notes #astrology #astro observations #astronotes #nessus 7066 #8th house synastry #synastry #lilith #astrotidbits

[libraryofgage]

Harlequin Prince

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One Harley Quinn One (you're here!) 10th Doctor and Rose (on the way! might take a little, I have plans for this one) Scooby Gang (there are also plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz)

I'm a simple woman who believes Steve deserves to be a little unhinged sometimes, and having Harley Quinn as a mother is the perfect excuse to make that happen lol

Anyway, I know I haven't updated some of my other series in a hot minute; I've just been busy with work and a little sick ngl

If you'd like to be tagged for any new parts in this series, let me know!

And, as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

-------

Steve's earliest memory is of being tucked into bed with a Batman night light plugged into the wall and his mother squeezed in next to him. She's wearing her softest pajamas, and Steve idly rubs the fabric under his thumb. In her lap is a huge book that she flips through, humming "Pop Goes the Weasel" under her breath before finally stopping on a page. "Okay, Dumplin', let's read about Narcissistic Personality Disorder," she finally says, wiggling some to get comfortable before clearing her throat.

Her voice is soft and a little nasally, and Steve obediently closes his eyes when she starts reading. After a few minutes, she gently cards her fingers through his hair, her palm warm as it slides over his scalp. Eventually, he drifts off, his dream so vivid that he still remembers the oversized hammers with their white doctor coats and floating clipboards.

The first time Steve's mother is sent (back) to Arkham, he doesn't realize anything is wrong until Uncle Bruce picks him up from school. Steve had been waiting long after the other kids were picked up by their parents, a misshapen pink-and-blue coaster for his mother that he made in art class in his hands, when one of Uncle Bruce's fancy cars pulled up to the school.

The passenger window rolled down, and Bruce looked almost pained as he met Steve's eyes. "Hop in," he said, leaning over to open the door from the inside.

Steve walked up to the door but didn't get in. "Mom said I should only go home with her," he said, "unless you know our secret code."

"Cognitive Behavioral Therapy."

Steve stood for a moment longer before nodding and climbing into the passenger seat. He closed the door, pulled on his seat belt, and carefully held the coaster in his lap. "Where's Mom?" he asked, watching as Bruce turned down the radio and slowly pulled away from the school.

"Your mother is....going to be away for a while," Bruce said, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "She did something bad, and now she's going to stay in time out because of it."

"Mom says you shouldn't dumb things down just because I'm young. She says it's not good for my development."

Bruce got a slight smile at that, his lips twitching up as he glanced at Steve. "Is that so," he said, his grip on the wheel loosening some. He seemed to think for a moment before saying, "Your mother blew up a warehouse. She was apprehended by Batman and has been sent to Arkham for a few months. Since I'm listed as your godfather, you'll stay with me until she's released."

Steve didn't reply. He just looked down at his coaster and wondered if he'd be able to convince his Uncle Bruce to visit Arkham so he could give it to her.

He did not, in fact, get to visit her at Arkham during that stint. But Steve did get to visit on her next one, which was almost three years later to the day. Steve's first visit to Arkham was on his 8th birthday, and he was chaperoned by Uncle Bruce and Nightwing (he wasn't allowed to call Dick by his real name when he was in costume, so Steve just didn't call him anything at all).

That was also the first time Steve truly experienced Arkham's lax security. Through no fault of his own (and he would continue to argue this point; how did two superheroes let an 8 year old wander off?), Steve had somehow ended up in another part of Arkham altogether.

This hallway had large cells with reinforced glass walls that allowed Steve to look inside. He could name most of the people he passed, recognizing Killer Croc and Riddler and the Penguin by his mother's descriptions of their defining features. Most of them tried talking to Steve, but he pushed ahead, eager to see if his mother was at the end of the hall.

She wasn't. Instead, Steve found another woman. She had green skin and bright red hair and Steve hadn't been able to contain himself. He'd practically squished his face against the glass and asked, "Are you Poison Ivy?"

"Oh, her he talks to," the Penguin said, his tone mean and his voice carrying.

Poison Ivy ignored him, choosing to instead open one eye from where she lay on the bed. She stared at Steve before sitting up. "Do I know you?" she asked.

"Nope! But my mom knows you. She talks about you all the time. She said you're the baddest badass to ever badass," Steve said.

"Oh. You're Harley's kid," Poison Ivy replied, walking over to the glass and crouching down to meet his gaze. "What are you doing all the way over here?"

"It's my birthday, so Uncle Bruce said I could see Mom."

"Well, happy birthday. Now, what are you doing here?"

Steve blinked, looked around the hall again, and realized for the first time that he was, in fact, a bit lost. "Uh, I'm not sure. I was with Uncle Bruce before."

A moment passed between the two of them in which Poison Ivy said nothing while Steve tried to remember how, exactly, he'd ended up here. When he came up blank, he simply shrugged and looked back at her. "Hey, you like plants, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, kid, I like plants," she said, her tone taking on the same inflection his mother's did when he asked something she thinks is obvious.

Steve didn't linger on the tone. Instead, he dug around in his coat pocket for a few seconds, pushing past candy wrappers and erasers until his hand closed around an acorn he'd picked up off the ground a few days ago. He pulled it out and presented it to Poison Ivy on his palm. "Is it still a plant if it fell off the tree?" he asked.

"Yeah," Poison Ivy said, her voice soft like she was staring at something unbelievable. Steve watched as a huge grin spread across her face, her eyes lit up, and she pressed her hands to the glass. "Can you do me a favor, Steve?" she asked.

"Sure! Mom said you're a person I should listen to," he said, starting to close his fingers around the acorn. Now that he was thinking about it, he didn't actually know how to give the acorn to her with the glass between them.

"Your mom is right. You should always listen to me. And her. But mostly me right now," Poison Ivy said, her gaze a bit softer as she looked at Steve. "So, go ahead and put the acorn on the ground and stand as far away as possible."

Steve didn't question her. Whatever Poison Ivy wanted to do would probably be fine. After all, Uncle Bruce didn't warn him about talking to her like he had about the Joker. So, Steve put the acorn down and hurried to the other end of the hall. "Now what?" he shouted.

The only response he got was the acorn shuddering, spinning across the floor, and then bursting open. In the blink of an eye, a tree grew, its roots breaking through the ground and its branches shattering the glass of Poison Ivy's cell. Steve was just thinking that was probably why Poison Ivy told him to stand back when she walked out, rolling her shoulders and breathing like the air is fresh.

She looked at Steve and walked over, standing in front of him for a moment before sweeping him into her arms. "Thanks, kid," she said, opening her hand and letting a tiny purple flower grow from her palm. She tucked it behind Steve's ear. "Now, let's go find your mom."

Of course, Poison Ivy's escape had set off numerous alarms, and Uncle Bruce just about fainted when he saw her carrying Steve while Nightwing looked two seconds from laughing. But Steve's mom had smiled so wide that her cheeks must have hurt after only two seconds when she saw them.

It was, by far, the best birthday Steve had ever had.

‐-----------------------------

Hawkins, Indiana, is...boring. Steve has only been in the town for a few weeks, and he's bored out of his mind. He could have been sent to Metropolis or Central City. Hell, he would have preferred Bludhaven to the absolute snoozefest that is Hawkins. But, no, Uncle Bruce insisted on somewhere safe, which means somewhere boring, which means...Steve will just have to make his own fun.

That's why he's found himself in a dive bar on the edge of town, sitting at the bar as the owner (a woman named Bev who definitely killed her husband; Steve would know, he's met plenty of women who definitely killed their husbands) refuses to give him anything alcoholic. "Listen, kid," she says, her tone hard and unyielding, "I can give you water, a Shirley Temple, or a permanent ban. Which do you prefer."

After a few seconds, Steve sighs, slaps way more money than is necessary on the bar, and says, "Gimme a Shirley Temple."

Bev nods, swipes up the cash, and starts making his drink. He watches her with a slight frown before looking away, noticing another boy his age wiping down a table. He looks, and Steve cannot say this affectionately enough, like a wannabe goon for a motorcycle gang. Between the bandana stuffed into his back pocket, his slightly frizzy hair falling to his shoulders, and the leather jacket/vest combo, the guy is the first reminder of home Steve has seen since arriving in this sleepy town.

When he notices the guy's shoulders tense, Steve looks away to keep from being caught staring. A Shirley Temple is placed in front of him, and Steve represses a sigh, missing the sounds of fights happening behind him as he drinks with Jason.

"Aren't you a little young to be hanging around here?"

Steve slowly takes a sip of his drink, the saccharine cherry flavor washing over his tastebuds, and glances at an older man a few seats down from him. He looks the man over, lingering on the half-tucked shirt, muddy loafers, and circles under his eyes. Without permission, his mother's DSM-V rushes through his mind, a blur of his mother's voice accompanying the page flips. They finally settle on "Adjustment Disorder," accompanied by his mom saying, "Sometimes, that's just a fancy term for a mid-life crisis, Dumplin'."

Without thinking, Steve asks in return, "Aren't you a little old to still be going through a mid-life crisis?"

In Gotham, that might get him a laugh, an eye roll, and possibly an elbow to the ribs from whichever friend accompanied him. Here, it gets him a tense silence that he only thought happened in bad movies gearing up for a fight sequence. Seriously, what is wrong with Hawkins?

"I'll give you one chance to apologize," the guy says, clearly thinking he's being sufficiently threatening.

It takes every ounce of Steve's self-control to keep from laughing at the guy. Does that usually work? Do people usually find this guy threatening? He's got nothing on Alfred, so Steve just can't bring himself to even fake intimidation.

"Yeah, don't hold your breath, man," Steve says, rolling his eyes as he takes another sip. The Shirley Temple isn't bad, but it's not what he was expecting, and it feels like just another disappointment atop a pile of them.

They're building in his chest, now that he thinks about it. Steve is slowly suffocating under the weight of them. They buzz in his lungs, surging through him until the energy is so overwhelming that he has to bounce his leg and tap his finger against his glass to expel some of it. He shouldn't have agreed to leave Gotham, or at the very least, he shouldn't have left the location entirely up to Bruce. Holy shit, that was a dumb decision. He ought to know better.

A sudden, annoyingly harsh drag of chair legs against the floor rings in Steve's ears, making his shoulders tense and his fingers twitch. He looks over to see the guy standing over him, glaring down at Steve like that's supposed to scare him when nothing else has.

Steve sighs, drinking the last of his Shirley Temple before standing. Over the guy's shoulder, he can see the boy his age watching them, and...well, Steve kind of wants to make a good impression on the first person to remind him of home. Plus, a fight sounds great. He'd love a chance to expel some of this disappointment-fueled energy.

The guy suddenly snorts, pulling Steve's attention back. "You're young, kid, so I'll let you off the hook this time around, but learn some respect."

What? Seriously? All of that, and the guy doesn't even start a fight? Does he know how rude that is? He'd get killed in Gotham. "Oh," Steve says, his voice flat, "you're scared of getting your ass kicked."

Somehow, that's what the guy considers the final straw. It wasn't even that good. Like, that's just fucking small talk in Gotham, and Steve can't bring himself to understand what about it was so infuriating that the guy swings his fist.

Either way, Steve happily embraces the fight. His eyes light up, and adrenaline rushes through his veins as he ducks and kicks the guy's left knee. The familiar sound of a bone snapping rings out. Steve's ready for more, hands curled into fists and held up to protect his face, when the guy drops.

After one kick, he drops. Steve blinks, staring down at the guy cursing and holding his knee. He slowly lowers his hands when he realizes this isn't some kind of fake-out diversion and looks at Bev behind the counter. She's frowning at him, hands on her hips, and Steve comes to the conclusion that bar fights are not, in fact, a thing in Hawkins. "Do they usually go down so easy around here?" he asks.

"They usually don't fight at all."

Oh. Holy shit, this place is boring.

Steve sighs and pushes some hair out of his face, frowning slightly. "Well, uh, sorry about the disturbance, then. I'll just...get going," he says, awkwardly pushing his chair in and doing the same for the guy whose kneecap he kicked. Nobody says anything as he leaves, and Steve shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, frustration and disappointment and homesickness building in him.

He's halfway to his car when somebody shouts, "Hey! Wait!"

With a huff, Steve stops and turns, his mood only lightening when he sees the boy that was wiping down tables. He waits patiently, watching as the boy runs up to him and holds out a wad of cash. "Bev said to give this to you," he says.

"What, is my money not good enough?" Steve asks, raising an eyebrow at the cash before looking up and meeting brown eyes.

"No, no," the boy says, "Bev only gives change to people she likes. She said you're welcome to come by and kick Phillip's ass whenever you want."

Steve blinks, studying the boy for any signs of lies. When he doesn't find one, he takes the cash and nods. "Good to know," he says.

"Yeah. Right. Um, I'm going back inside now."

"Hold on," Steve says, grinning when the boy listens and stands still. He takes a step closer, holds out his hand, and says, "My name's Steve. I'm new around here, if you couldn't tell."

The boy stares at his hand for a few seconds before taking it, the rings on his fingers pressing against Steve's skin. "Eddie. I could tell," he says, his shoulders relaxing some. "Where you from?"

"Gotham."

"Holy shit, no wonder you looked so ready for a fight," Eddie says, staring at Steve like he's incomprehensible. Steve tries not to preen under his gaze. "Hawkins must be dead compared to Gotham."

"Yeah," Steve agrees, glancing down at his and Eddie's hands still clasped together despite the handshake being over. "But I think I'll have some fun anyway."

#steddie #steddie fic #harlequin prince #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve deserves good parents actually #bruce wayne #dc comics crossover #harley quinn #poison ivy #this bitch has been sitting in my drafts for so long guys hfjkds #so excited to finally release it into the wild

[queer-media-tourney]

Here are all 64 round 1 polls:

Rent vs Orphan Black

Heartstopper vs Orange is the New Black

Carol (2015) vs Bugsnax

The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern vs Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Fienburg

Red, White and Royal Blue vs This is how you lose the time war by Amar el-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

Our Flag means Death vs Always human by Ari North

The last of us two vs On a Sunbeam by Tillie Walden

Heartbreak High vs Shameless

Undertale vs The Handmaiden

Young Royals vs Revolutionary Girl Utena

Sens8 vs Carry on by Rainbow Rowell

Bee and puppycat vs The Rocky Horror Picture Show

Yuri on Ice vs Ranma ½

Q-force vs Feel Good

Torchwood vs The interview with a Vampire (2022)

Homestuck vs Good Omens

Some like it hot vs Killing Eve

Scott Pilgrim Takes Off vs Bound (1996)

It's a sin vs Magnus Chase by Rick Riordan

Doctor Who vs Portrait of a young lady on fire

Steven Universe vs Saltburn

Xena Warrior Princess vs Cyberpunk 2077

Welcome to Nightvale vs Schitt's creek

Night in the woods vs A league Of their own

Lisa Frankenstein vs The boys in the band (1970)

Black Sails vs Owl House

Hannibal vs The Traitor Baru Cormorant

Bottoms vs The Locked Tomb series by Tamsyn Muir

The picture of Dorian Grey vs Adventure time

The Sandman (comic) vs Supernatural

Maurice (1987) vs Hazbin Hotel

Nimona vs Love Simon

Epithet Erased vs What we do in the shadows

Buffy the Vampire Slayer vs The Other Two

One Day at a time (2017) vs Falsettos

She-ra and the princesses of power vs Dykes to Watch Out for

Celluloid Closet vs Harley Quinn

But I'm a cheerleader vs Vida

Angels In America vs Glee

Hooky by Míriam Bonastre Tur vs They both die in the end by Adam Silvera

Will and Grace vs Paris is Burning

Sanders Sides vs The Magnus Archives

The L word vs Goncharov

Queer as Folk vs Paper Girls

Boys don't cry vs Dracula

All of us strangers vs Yellow jackets

The Song of Achilles vs D.E.B.S

Brokeback Mountain vs Dead end: paranormal park

Carmilla vs Pride (2014)

The Bifrost Incident vs Pink Flamingos

Call me by your name vs Hedwig and the Angry Inch

Grishaverse vs Roswell New Mexico

Riverdale vs We Know the Devil

Stardew Valley vs Pose

Disco Elysium vs Different For girls

Banana fish vs my own private Idaho

Celeste vs Tales of the City, by Armistead Maupin

Everything Everywhere all at once vs Outer Wilds

To Wong Foo, Thanks For Everything! Julie Newmar vs Victor/Victoria

Moonlight vs Stranger things

The birdcage vs Midnight Cowboy

The Watermelon Woman vs The Ritz

The haunting of Bly Manor vs Epic of Gilgamesh

Fun Home by Alison Bechdel vs How to survive a plague

#queer media tourney

[fromchaostocosmos]

We Need To Talk About The Oscars

Or more like I a Jewish person need you non-Jewish people to listen and actually hear me and other Jewish people when we talk about Jewish representation and utter lack of it in media.

I know that you think there is Jewish representation is media and I know many of you think that is probably an over abundance of Jewish representation in fact.

But having characters occasionally say oy vey, or kosher or mazal tov even though they are not Jewish is not representation. Saying schmear or a yiddish word here and there again usually by non-Jewish characters is not representation.

Having characters who we only know they are Jewish because it comes up during xmas episodes and they mention Hanukah like once is not representation especially if they are not played by Jewish actors.

Having canon Jewish characters stripped of being for tv shows or movies is not representation. Having a canon non-Jewish character made Jewish, but by doing so it plays it really harmful stereotypes and tropes abouts Jews is not representation (i.e the penguin in the animated Harley Quinn Series being made Jewish even though he is not all while not having Harley be Jewish even though canonically she is).

Having Jewish actors play villainous roles all the time especially ones with certain overtones is not only not representation it is actively harmful.

Having non-Jewish actors play Jewish characters and people is not representation, no matter how far back they may or may not have some Jewish ancestry perhaps.

There are three movies nominated for multiple Oscars about three real Jewish people. Not one of those films bothered to get a Jewish actors to portray these very real Jews.

Maestro has Bradley Cooper portraying Leonard Bernstein, Golda has Helen Mirren portraying Golda Meir, and Oppenheimer has Cillian Murphy portraying J. Robert Oppenheimer.

All three actors are not Jewish and yet all three portrayed Jewish people in their films.

All of three films are being awarded for their antisemitism, because that is what this is, with a bevy of award nominations from the Academy. Even if one does not go home with Oscar to be an Oscar Nominee still comes with prestige and seal of approval.

Both Maestro and Oppenheimer are being awarded with the Best Actor Nomination for their choice of non-Jewish men to play Jewish men.

Golda and Maestro have been awarded with the Best Hairstyling and Makeup Nomination despite both films heavy use of prosthetic makeup of their non-Jewish actors in order to make them "look more Jewish".

This is disgusting. This is antisemitic point blank. Hollywood as an industry has always been antisemitic and continues to be so. And now it rewards itself for its antisemitism. Once again it is left to Jews to shout into the void about this shameful injustice and hope that others will hear us and help make our voices heard.

This should not be happening still. This should be a wake up call within Hollywood and should a moment to course correct and do better.

Clearly it is not. I do not hold my breathe. I can say what I feel needs to be said and hope and that others see it and understand the truth in what I am saying.

It is time to stop erasing from our own stories and narratives. It is time to start giving us true and meaningful representation.

#antisemitism #hollywood antisemitism #antisemitism in media #jewish representation #lack of jewish representation #jewish erasure

[runa-falls]

cat and mouse - 2

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Supervillain(?)!Reader

Warnings: kissy kissy :3, mention of alcohol, you're broke. sorry.

a/n: i wrote this out today (what is now a few days ago) because i couldn't work on the other fic until i got this out of my system :) if there are plot holes its because i vomited out this chapter and threw it out like a dumbass. idk what Black-Cat's personality is like so i made it kinda mirror cat woman from the harley quinn show.

Summary: Every time you try to convince people it was an accident, you immediately get ratted out to the Spider. But really, it was! You don't know why you're being hunted, you didn't even do anything wrong. Yet.

w/c: 2.6k

part 1 part 3 part 4

masterlist

----

Nueva York’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, as he, and the world, likes to call him, is your official nemesis, or at least that’s what the city thinks.

You crumple up the half-soaked People magazine, filled with ‘juicy gossip about our favorite Spider and the new villain-of-the-week: Blaze’. Seriously, you might just become a villain if they keep calling you that.

You briefly forgot you swiped the news story off of a nearby food and entertainment stand (that’s barely holding up in the downpour) until you hear:

“Hey! You gotta pay for that!” 

You don’t. 

In your defense, it was only a dollar-fifty. And either way, it’s technically the Spider’s fault that you didn’t have a penny on you!

Honestly, if it were your choice, you’d never see his stupidly broad shoulders again. He truly is the bane of your existence and a major pain in your ass. You genuinely don’t understand why he even pays you any mind, it’s not like you are plotting to take over the city. You just want enough money to get some fries and a Koka Soda, and maybe a couple more black articles of clothing that aren’t covered in clawed-out stripes. 

Spider-Man? More like Cat-Man. 

You would say you’ve been “fighting” this man for weeks like the magazines insinuate, but it’s less violence than it is just you squirming out of his clutches and running away. You swear the Spider is a bloodhound. No matter where you are, or what you’re wearing, he always finds you. And you always get away. It’s actually quite pathetic. 

He goes: “It’s you again.”

You say: “No it’s not.” 

Then he has to say: “Blaze.” Like you’re some ultra-nemesis that has ruined his life.

And you can’t help but: “Stop fucking calling me that, dude.” Before you make a run for it. 

He catches up, obviously, either has you on the ground, against the wall, or holds you up so you can’t escape, but then you do. Every time. And he lets you. 

So really, it’s just fucking annoying. What a waste of a great plan and an excellently executed silent break-in!

You never asked for any of this. The fact you don’t have a flashy-ass elastic suit should be proof enough: You’re not a supervillain. 

But, when the opportunity to make a little more cash comes around, you can’t just say no. In your mind, the bigger the heist, the longer you can stay out of the public and away from him. 

And if the one girl on the team wants to make you a suit, how can you resist? The Spider has ruined all the other clothes you’ve worn (and not in a good way). 

You saw your new suit a few hours before you needed to meet up with the team. Felicia, or Black Cat as the rest of the group refers to her, is probably the most elegant and badass woman you’ve ever met. 

She has voluminous silver-blonde curls and sharp green eyes that match the deadliness of her talon-like retractable claws (which actually kinda remind you of someone…). Though she doesn’t have explosive energy inside of her as you do, her cat-like senses and martial art skills are almost as deadly. 

Felicia was happy to invite you over to her multi-million dollar penthouse to get ready and hang out a little before you needed to leave. 

She’s filing her nails into perfectly deadly points as you sit on her plush ultra-white couch next to the new suit, hands fiddling nervously together as you watch her pamper herself with extreme precision. There are two glasses of high-grade champagne in front of you on the glass coffee table. Yours is barely touched. Hers has been drained and refilled a couple of times throughout the hour. 

“You know, usually I’d work this job alone, but it’s a lot easier to get away when you leave a few maggots to distract the Spider. That’s what men are for. Us girls need to stick together, right?” 

Even her voice is elegant. 

“Yeah.” You croak out. You prefer to listen to her talk than say something dumb and non-villain-like. And yeah, you’ll admit you’re a tiny bit scared of her, but sometimes that’s something you have to go through when making friends. Right?

“Alright, we’ve got like 20 minutes. Go on, babe, try it on.” She loosely gestures to the suit, “Bathroom is in the hallway, first door to the left.” You stand promptly and shuffle over to her bathroom, taking a second to look back to send a grateful smile at her before you close the door. 

It almost resembles the one you saw on her the first day you met. The only difference is that yours is completely black and has a high collar neckline in contrast to her more provocative V-shaped suit.

There’s no fur-lining or silver details, just an invisible zipper that creates the illusion that this suit is painted onto your body. Felicia also provided a simple mask that you can pull over your head when you tie back your hair and some silver hair spray so you’re less recognizable to the general public. 

You stare in the mirror and smooth out any wrinkles down your torso with your gloved fingers. Alright. Now you look like a supervillain. 

Or at least a super-something. 

She makes you do a little spin. “You look lovely, darling.” A smirk pulled at her charming lips. “Absolutely, perfect.” 

—

Fuck.

So here you are, trying to break out of a bank that shut down around you as soon as you walked in. The two guys, who you never took the time to learn the names of, are freaking out, banging harshly against the metal doors that slammed shut in front of the exits. 

Felicia, on the other hand, is as cool as a cucumber, checking her nails like there isn’t a blaring siren and pulsing lights around her. 

So what now? You could probably blast the doors open with whatever comes out of your hands (you’re still not sure as you try to use your powers as a last resort). But that would leave a bunch of evidence that you were there and you didn’t come to knock down a whole building.

You walk over to her, trying to hide the anxiety that’s starting to bubble up inside of you. “What should we do?” She looks up from her manicured nails and looks at you. Then at the guys.

“Well, the boys seem a bit preoccupied,” As if to prove her point, one of them starts kicking the door, as if it would magically open up for him if he were to hit it harder and make more noise. She sighs, “I guess we could use the air duct that leads to the roof.” 

“Ok.”

So you follow her to one of the main offices in the building, watching as she easily rips off the cover of the vent and uses the desk for leverage to hoist her into the surprisingly spacious air duct. 

The chill evening breeze of Nueva York has never felt so good. Well, it has smelt better, but if garbage and crime-filled air meant you’re not going back to jail, you’ll take it. 

“Well, that could’ve gone better.” The Black Cat runs her fingers through her hair, pushing it back and out of her face. Of course, it falls perfectly over her shoulders. “So…I’ll see you later, yeah?” She’s leaving?

“Uh, yeah, sure. I’d love to!” 

“Great.” She walks to the edge of the roof and scales down the back of the building like it’s nothing. Look, it’s not that tall of a building, but still, you weren’t about to follow her down. You watch as her black-suited figure lands on the concrete ground, barely making a sound, before she sashays into the shadows of the city, disappearing into the night. God, she’s so cool. 

And then it’s just you. 

You sit yourself down and finally take a breath. Your first job as a villain and you didn’t even get to see the money. What are you getting yourself into?

You pull slightly at the elastic holding your hair together, regretting the tight pony that’s now giving you a major headache. Maybe this life isn’t for you. With, probably an overdramatic, sigh you push yourself up. Now to figure out how you’re getting out of here. 

–

Turns out you didn’t have too many options. As soon as you were about to take a serious ‘leap of faith’ and try to scale down the building, you were ambushed by a series of fwp, fwp, fwp’s and lifted from the ground. That probably saved your life now that you’re thinking back on it.

So, he found you. Big surprise. He’s practically stalking you at this point.

He takes you for a ride, holding you close as he swings from building to building, barely breaking a sweat. You’re actually surprised that you didn’t hurl all over his stupidly firm shoulder. You should have.

You don’t know why he brought you to the top of a half-constructed building, but you’re assuming he’s just trying to be dramatic again. Superheroes, right? 

You struggle against restraints when you’re finally set down, at least trying to lay in a more comfortable position as Spider-man stands over you. Not only are you fully wrapped in red webs, but your arms are also tied behind your back.

The Spider kneels down, watching you continue to struggle, “Alright, Hardy, give it up.” Hardy? Shit, he must think you’re Felicia. The black suit, the silver hair. Dammit. 

He takes off your mask before you can say anything, pulling out your loose hair tie with it, and boy, is he surprised to see it’s you.

“Wh–Blaze?” He takes off his mask like he can’t believe his fabric-covered eyes. His scarlet gaze not so subtly takes in your new look. A big change from the usual getup you wear. “What, uh,” When he finally meets your eyes, one of his gloved hands raises to rub at the back of his neck. Is he nervous? He briefly looks away from you, “What did you do to your hair?”

“Who cares! Let me out of these!” You glower at him, arms tugging at the luminous webs, “And you know I hate that stupid-ass name.”

“What the hell were you doing here? Why are you suddenly hanging out with a bunch of criminals?”

You give him a deadpan expression, “I’m a villain, remember.”

“Ah,” He slices through a couple of the overlapping webs that fit snugly over your stomach. “Finally giving into the narrative, hm?” Then the ones around your arms.

“S’not like I have much of a choice.” The red webs start to loosen until they unravel completely and pool on the floor. “So, you’re…letting me go?” You rub at your sore wrists, feeling the ache dissipate almost immediately. He shrugs like it’s no big deal for him. 

“It’s expected, isn't it?” He’s at the edge of the roof staring at the buildings around him, a soft breeze sweeps through his hair, and the lights of ‘the city that never sleeps’ soak over his suited figure from below.

“Just like that?” 

“...Just like that.” He says. But he says it more to himself than you. With that, he swiftly puts his mask back on, hiding the wonderfully serene expression he once held, but you never got to see in full. 

Spider-man is confusing. He treats you like you’re some sort of catch-and-release criminal. Acting like a push-over parent that reprimands their child even when they know they’ll do it again. You don’t get it. 

And the way he looks at you sometimes. Like he’s having fun. You see it when he’s chasing you, webbing you to the wall, or holding you under his claws. There’s a glowing heat that pulses in his eyes and you can almost see the barest gleam of his fangs. You can’t even wrap your head around how he can both infuriate and draw you in at the same time. And then he lets you go. 

And now he’s leaving you. 

So you take your chance. 

“Wait.” He stills but doesn’t turn back to look at you. He just stays there, merely stopping to listen to whatever you have to say. But you want him to look at you. You need to see those simmering red eyes that are hidden behind the mask. “I-” You stop yourself. You’re not actually sure what you were going to say. All you know is you just weren’t ready for him to leave yet. “I, um, never caught your name!” It blurts out of your lips before you realize what you’re saying. 

Then silence.

How awkward. 

You were sure he was going to leave you there. No sane superhero would reveal his secret identity, dumbass! Especially to a girl like you.

But then his hand comes up, slips off his mask again, hair slightly ruffled from the action, and he finally turns. Before you know it he’s approaching you, fast. And you can’t do anything but stand there, watching as his looming form starts to take up more and more of your vision until he’s standing right in front of you, head tilted downwards and red eyes low. 

Two warm palms cradle your jaw and you lean into the touch, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling. Just as your eyes start to open again, his head is dipping toward yours. Then his lips meet yours.

And it’s perfect. His soft plush lips move against yours, occasionally nipping and sucking on your bottom lip until it was satisfyingly plump. The warm, masculine smell surrounding you makes your knees weak as his hands drop from your face to your waist in an effort to pull you toward him.

Your body melts against him as he starts to softly lick into your mouth, thoroughly seeking out the taste of you. He pushes you gently against the unfinished concrete wall behind you, eliminating any space that was left between your thinly suited bodies. You swear you’re about to melt when you feel his broken groan against your lightly suited-chest.

And then you separate, heavy breaths and intense gazes floating between you. “Miguel.” He looks down at the way he’s holding you, the size of his palm against your smaller body. And then the ridiculous suit that was tailored specifically for the heist, but looks more like something you’d wear for a BDSM session. He clears his throat and looks back up, “Miguel O’Hara.”

“Miguel…” His hand on your waist clenches at the sound of your hoarse voice and you can tell he’s tempted to pull you back in. 

“You’re one of the few who know.”

Now, you’re curious. You hum, “Who else knows?” His eyes glance at your hair and his hand drops. Suddenly, you feel cold. He steps away from you, not unkindly, but it’s clear he’s trying to create space. 

He brushes it off, “No one important.” And then he’s walking away. Back to the same spot he was going to leave you from. Cool. 

“Well,” You take a few steps closer, eyes roaming over his muscled back,  “I promise not to tell anyone.”

“I know.” His mask is back on, and this time you know there’s no stopping him this time. “Catch you later, Little Red.” He jumps. 

Little Red? 

#miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #spider man 2099 #spider man: across the spider verse #cat and mouse

[dianawinchester03]

Supernatural Series Rewrite (Dean Winchester x Reader) by @dianawinchester03

In this rewrite of CW's hit TV Show 'Supernatural'.

Y/N L/N is a longtime friend of the notorious Winchester Brothers, coming from a long line of hunters herself. Growing up with them, their fathers had a goal of avenging their wives deaths. Currently on her own hunting, much to her own fathers demise, she gets a call from her childhood crush, Dean Winchester. Notifying her of his fathers disappearance, will she join the brothers on the hunt to find their father? And will she resolve her relationship with her own?

=====================================

Prologue - Enter Y/N

Y/N's POV

I straighten out my shirt,sighing as I watch the corpse ignite into flames in-front of my eyes.

Salt and Burn. Check. The chilly air in the cemetery engulfs my body, I warm my hands over the burning corpse, rubbing my hands together to gather the heat.

Internally rolling my eyes, I pick up my duffle bag and make my way towards my bike. My pride and joy. Quinn's a Harley-Davidson VRSC. I named her after my favorite DC Comic book character, Harley Quinn. Original huh?

Breaking me out of my thoughts I hear my phone ring. Fishing my phone out of my pocket as I lean against Quinn. Rolling my eyes, I answer roughly after seeing the contact.

"I'm alive, f/n" I say hastily. I could practically hear the frown crease on my fathers face with the way I answer. Don't get me wrong, I love the man but boy can he be a pain. "I'm glad to hear you're okay baby....how're things" He asks.

I pull my bottom lip into my mouth answering "Everything is fine, I just finished a quick salt and burn of an old pastor who had been terrorizing atheists" I chuckle ironically at the fact. Like father like daughter, my dad chuckles over the phone. "Wonderful, I knew you'd do well on your own" He says lightly.

"Is that so?" I say sarcastically. "Aren't you the same one who said, and I quote, 'Don't come back if you go out there on your own, don't call, don't text, pretend I'm dead' " I mock his rugged voice as I quote his words to me two years ago bitterly. Granted he's called me every so often since our falling out but I haven't dared called him.

Flashback

September 2003

"Daddy I'm 20 years old! I can hunt in my own. I've been doing it since I've been in diapers!" I yell frustrated at my father. "You better watch your tone with me! Who the fuck do you think you're yelling at!?" He screams back at me causing me to flinch.

"You're not ready! I know the shit that's out there in the world and I'd prefer if you and I do it together. There is no reason we can't hunt together!" He yells in my face, causing me to flinch in habit.

"Your obsession with finding the thing that killed mom is the reason I can't work with you" I say harshly. The look on his face alone, scared the crap outta me. When I was younger, anything he said would scare me. I'd listen to him and follow his orders like a good little soldier but I'm sick of it.

Two decades of this crap, it was bound to happen. My mother died in my nursery when I was six months old. Pinned to the ceiling just like Sam's mom, only a couple months after Mary died, my mom died.

Mom and Dad were childhood friends with Sam and Dean's mom. They bonded through all of them coming from families of hunters. Basically my parents were childhood sweethearts which honestly touches my heart.

After knocking back a few, dad could tell the story of when he fell in love with mom a million times. He loved her with everything. I always wondered if I'd have something like that. Frankly, I don't believe love like that exists anymore.

My mother was also a psychic, a powerful one too. She basically had these abilities like seeing into the past/present/future, moving objects with her mind, summoning/binding ghosts and reading minds. Psychics develop their abilities by 18. She could even communicate with the dead.

She and my dad hunted together after meeting and settled down in Lawrence, deciding to have a family. Giving it up for the apple pie life. Honestly sometimes I think my dad's disappointed at the fact that I'm not like my mother.

"So you don't care about your mother then?" He says back to me coldly, rage dripping from his voice. "I never said that dad! I just can't deal with you every single goddamn day breathing down my neck. I love you so much daddy but shit! I can't take this anymore" Tears prick at my eyes as I pick up my helmet and army green duffel bag. I throw on my leather jacket and head for the front door.

Jumping on my bike, before I could put on my helmet I hear his yell from the safehouse. "Listen to me and listen to me good Y/N L/N. Don't come back if you go out there on your own, don't call, don't text, pretend I'm dead". My heart jumped out of my chest, my helmet clutched to my side. Angrily I wipe my tears away from my cheeks "Fine". With that I snap my helmet on and make my way out of the driveway and into the night.

Present Time

September 2005

My father sighs heavily over the phone because of my habit to hold a grudge. I was surprised last year when he called me for my birthday to say the least. Since then, he's called me every so often. "Listen baby, I didn't call to argue. I just wanted to make sure you're okay"

"I'm fine dad, look I've gotta go. I'm hungry and tired. Okay? We'll talk whenever" Without letting him say another word, I hang up. You might think I'm being harsh but if you've lived a day in the life of my childhood, you'd be just as angry as me right now.

I straddle my bike, placing my helmet on my head. The roar of the engine fills the quiet cemetery, revving the engine I make my way towards a local dive bar to pick up some grub and hit the hay.

________________________________

"Say your prayers little one,

Don't forget my son,

To include everyoneeee"

I jump awake hearing the beginning guitar riff and first couple lyrics of "Enter Sandman" by Metallica from my phone. Without looking at the contact I click decline, turning over to see the handsome naked man next to me. I slightly jump before realizing he's the guy I met at the bar. I'm not one for constant one night stands but sometimes I need a release. Especially after that call with my dad. I groan from the pounding pain in my head. Great, I'm gonna get a bitch of a hangover.

Sighing I check the time. 3:33 am. Who the fuck would call me at this hour? It's a bit creepy no? I put my phone back onto the nightstand and wrap my arms around my mystery man, resting my head on his chest. Mark? Mike? Im not sure. He stirs a bit but eventually falls back asleep. As if on cue my phone rings again.

I let out an exhaustrated groan before turning over and answering my phone. "Whoever the fuck this is. you better have a damn good reason to be calling me at this ungodly hour because I am *this* close to reaching into this phone and going all terminator on your ass!" I whisper yell angrily into my phone while I hastily put on my flannel, buttoning it up and slipping on my panties as I was still naked.

The deep humorous chuckle that I, all too well recognize echo in my ear. "Sorry princess, didn't mean to interrupt your night. I've been trying to call you for weeks and couldn't get a hold onto ya" My heart flutters at the sound of Dean's voice, he's one of my best friends. He's always called me "princess" and I've always called him "charming". His brother Sam and me have always been closer, being the same age and all. Me and Sam shared a stronger bond.

Where as Dean and me....there was never a Dean and me I guess. He's sees me as a little sister but while growing up I had a slight crush on him. I always reminded myself that he'd never see me like that so I just discarded it. One thing for sure, he's always protected me when necessary. Same with Sam, he's like a brother to me.

Growing up Dean teased me and Sam all the time, joking calling me his little girlfriend. Saying we'll get married and all that crap. But me and Sam came to the conclusion that we are just friends. Hell. We're basically siblings.

It's kinda bothered me knowing I had a crush on Dean but that died down when I hit my teens and puberty. We all grew up together going from motel to motel to Bobby's house to motel over and over. Our dads were hunting partners, my dad would leave me with Sam and Dean.

Dean always in charge of course, John made sure to enforce that. I tried my best to help Dean out because no kid should have that much responsibility but he'd always say "I've got it" or "It's okay y/n/n, just go play with Sammy". I love those boys with all my heart.

Last I'd seen Dean for my 21st last year, he took me out and I quote he wanted to be "the first person to see me take my first legal drink".

I turn around to see Mark/Mike stirring in his sleep again, grabbing pack of cigarettes and lighter I walk towards the door and unlock it, stepping outside the sleazy motel room. I respond to Dean "Jesus Christ Dean, it's 3 am" I roll my eyes as I flick my lighter, putting one of the cigarettes to my lips, lighting it and taking a puff.

"Like I said, been trying to reach ya but you're basically a ghost" He says ironically. "Sorry man, I've been trying to avoid pops" I say, taking another drag. "Yeah I actually called him to get a hold onto you, told me you hung up on him. Kinda cold not gonna lie" Dean says lightly chuckling and it all clicks into place, that's why my dad called me.

"Shit, my bad. How have you been? You alright?" I ask worried, leaning against the door of my room. I just know he has that shit eating signature grin on his face when he hears my tone. "Awww is the Princess worried about me" He teases. "You better watch that tone before I hang up on you too" I mock threaten, teasing him back, trying to fight the smile on my face.

I take a drag from my cigarette that's nearly done as he dramatically gasps "You wouldn't dare" He say's melodramatically like an old lady in a soap opera and I laugh "Try me, Winchester" I chuckle as we share a laugh. "It's good to hear from you, Charming. What's the problem though? I know it has to be serious for you to call me at this hour" I queried, waiting for an answer.

"It's Dad, Y/N. He's gone on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days" He says, his voice somber. "He went on a case and hasn't updated you? That's strange" I say as I out my cigarette on the door still, now leaning against the railings over the ground floor of the motel.

"I'm on my way to California. I'm gonna grab Sammy from Stanford and head over to Jericho. That's where dad was working his case. You wanna tag along?" He asks hopefully. Without hesitation I say "I'm in Phoenix, just finished a milk run. If I leave as soon as sunrise I can make it for probably the next morning with a few pit stops"

"Great! I'll see you soon princess" He says flirtatiously. "Yeah yeah whatever Charming" I say chuckling "Wait did you say you're gonna grab Sammy? Have you guys talked since...." I ask cautiously. "Nah we haven't, but I'm hoping to change that. Have you?" He asks now sounding a little down. Truth is, I've talked to Sam a couple well times since he left for Stanford a couple years ago. I supported his decision to leave hunting and live a normal life. It's all we've ever talked about as kids.

He's updated me on his life at Stanford, he's got a girlfriend now. Jessica Moore, boy is she gorgeous. My little Sammy is all grown up. Ignoring the fact he's a couple months older than me and never lets me live it down but that's besides the point. He's happy and I feel bad that Dean has to go get him, but his dad is missing. They always butted heads but if it were me I'd wanna know. He needs to know.

"Yeah a couple times..." I say softly. "He misses you Dean" I add, trying to reassure Dean, knowing him he's probably overthinking going to see Sam. Dean sighs heavily before saying "I do too. I miss you as well you nutcase" I smile at this before replying "I miss you too you asshat. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, see you tomorrow" He says and with that I hang up. I walk back into my motel room to see Mark/Mike still asleep on the bed. I gather my things, tossing them into my duffel bag. After taking a shower I wait a couple hours for sunrise so I can leave.

Right as I'm about to pick up my helmet Mark/Mike wakes up, causing me to freeze. "Didn't take you for a dine and dash type" he says chuckling. I laugh as well "I'll take that as a compliment, I'm actually on my way out to meet a friend. It's important"

"That's cool, it was nice meeting you Y/N" he says nicely before laying back on the bed "You too Mark" I say back smiling, his face drops "It's Max". Crap.

Authors Note

HOLY SHIT! I'm so excited I can't. If you haven't noticed this is my first fanfiction, not my first book. The others I've deleted because they were embarrassing and I wrote them when I was 12 lol.

This book however, I plan on sticking to it. I've been contemplating doing a series rewrite on Supernatural for monthssss. Honestly I've read so much and there are plots I loved but also hated in some. So I decided to add a bit of a twist on mine.

I really hope whoever decided to read this that you like the plot I'm going with and I'm sure you've noticed that y/n is a little cold towards her father. I'm gonna be honest, I'm writing based off my my experience with my dad.

I do plan on developing their relationship but in the later episodes/chapters. Whoever is reading I just want to say thank you for giving my book a chance and I do hope you like the plot I am going to use for y/n's story.

As I am bisexual, I've been thinking about making y/n bisexual also but I know there's a lot of straight girlies on Wattpad. So I'd like to know your opinion if I should add that fact. Also I know Harley-Davidson VRSC came out in 2006 but this is a fictional book so let's just pretend it came out in the 90s or something lol.

Side note.

Y/N- Your name

Y/N/N- your nickname

F/N - your father's name

M/N- your mother's name

Xoxo

#spn #dean winchester #supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean and sam #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #sam and dean

[herlondonboy]

Sorry Is Just A Word

Pairings: Wednesday Addams x sibling!reader / Enid Sinclair x gn!reader / Wednesday Addams x Enid Sinclair

Summary: being the sibling of Wednesday Addams has its ups and down. An up being that no one messed with you, a down being that no one chose you.

Warnings: angst, ooc Enid, ooc Wednesday, it was supposed to be happy, spelling mistakes, first person. I got bored, again. Low quality.

Word Count: 1.4k

Wednesday and I were polar opposites. For example: Wednesday always looked like she was half dead whilst my skin was always popping with colour; Wednesday was feared by our peers at Nevermore and I was babied by them, and more.

Being transferred to Nevermore was a fresh start for the both of us. No one would know that Wednesday failed to kill the jock that bullied Pugsley and I could make friends without being nicknamed ‘Pigsley’s Pussy Sibling’. When we had first arrived at Nevermore I had discovered that my mother and father had requested that I share a dormitory with Wednesday. But to stop my sister from completely shutting out the outside world, Principal Weems had installed a second floor to a student named ‘Enid’s’ dorm room.

My first time meeting Enid she had hugged me and tried to do the same my sister. She almost lost her arms. But when Enid touched me, I could have sworn that I felt a spark. Her smile was warm and reminded me of home. Is this what love at first sight feel like? I had to ask myself.

Being around Enid didn’t get any easier. She’d speak to be about her crush, Ajax Petropolus on a daily and it made my heart burn. (Disclaimer, heart burn isn’t as fun as it sounds, sadly). Wednesday consoled me, though it clearly wasn’t her strong suit. She couldn’t figure out why I cared so much about what Enid thought of me or of other people.

There was something about Enid, though. Maybe it was the way she could light up every room with her smile, or how she’d managed to break down Wednesday’s walls in a few months. Hell, it was probably the fact that she cared for me the way she did. But that something had me completely bewitched.

The tips of her hair were dyed blue and pick, like Harley Quinn. Maybe I could be her Poison Ivy.

Once Wednesday found out about my crush, she had told me to go for it. ‘The worst that can happen is she says no.’ Wednesday had told you, and you believed her.

“I don’t see why you’re so smitten with her.” Wednesday had muttered flatly, cutting off my bickering with Thing. I leaned down from my floor and looked at my sister who sat, clicking away at her typewriter. “You remind me of father, it’s revolting.”

“I’m sorry that I don’t find love foolish and a waste of time, Wednesday Friday.” I scoffed, rolling my eyes at her.

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that.” Wednesday said.

I hummed, but didn’t respond as I sat back up and looked to Thing. “How am I gonna ask her out?” I asked with wide eyes.

“You could always practice on me.” Wednesday mumbled.

“Nope. You’d hurt my feelings too much.” I shook my head. “Thing?” He held his thumb up. “Okay. Uhm. Enid Sinclair, I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you the first time that I saw you. I didn’t know what love was until I came to Nevermore, and although you’re crushing hard on that stoner, I was wondering if one date would make you see me?” I looked at Thing, not knowing if my words made sense.

I didn’t even notice the door creek open as I tried again.

“No, uhm, Enid, I’m madly in love with you. I know that I’m not Ajax or a tortured artist, but I could be something cool if you’d let me show you.” I furrowed my eyebrows, frowning as Thing waggled his fingers ‘no’. “Okay. Uh, Enid. Please will you go go on one date with me? I have loved you ever since I laid my eyes on you, and I think you’d like me too if you got to know me a little.”

“The first one was good.”

I jumped, falling off the floor and onto the wood by Wednesday’s bed. My cheeks heated up in embarrassment as I looked at Enid who was smiling above me. “Did you hear all of that?”

She nodded as I pushed myself onto my elbows. “Pathetic.” I heard Wednesday murmur.

“I think I’ll accept your date offer.” Enid smiled widely, helping me up.

“Holy- Shoot, really?” I asked, matching her smile, dusting myself off.

She nodded and my whole world stopped.

-

The night of the date came an Enid was nowhere to be found. I began to fear the worst. Being an Addams meant having lots of enemies and if Enid had crossed paths with one of them on the way to our date, I would never forgive myself.

After being sat for half an hour I began getting antsy and left the rooftop picnic to go to our dorm. I opened the door slightly and saw Enid’s half of the room empty and untouched since the morning.

I sighed and pushed the door open further. “Wednesday, you haven’t seen Enid, have you? She didn’t show up to our…” The words got lodged in my throat when I saw Enid on top of my sister. Their lips were locked in a kiss and I was frozen.

Wednesday gasped at my voice and pushed Enid to the side of her. They both looked towards me and I looked down, stifling the sobs that forced their way out of my mouth with my hand.

It felt as if I had fallen into a cactus, and my heart had been punctured a million times over by tiny pins. It hurts so bad. I choked as i heaved a painful breath, turning on my heels.

The two girls shared a look before getting off the bed and rushing after me. I was quick though and they lost me. “Where are they?” Wednesday asked Enid breathlessly. It felt like they’d done five laps of Nevermore Castle.

“Uhm.” Enid tried to think. “T-The roof! That’s where we were supposed to-“ She cut herself off with a gulp.

Wednesday nodded and sprinted to the steps she made it to the top and pushed open the metal door to see me with my knees to my chest, amidst the mess of the picnic around me. “y/n.”

I flinched and stood to my feet, stepping away from her with teary eyes. “I hate you!” I exclaimed. “I never should have trusted you. You made me think, no, believe that someone could actually like me more than you. You-you told me to go for it when you knew she liked you. How could you?”

Wednesday stayed silent at my words. There was nothing for her to say. Do you know what it feels like to have your heartbroken? It feels like someone you trusted with your life just ripped out your heart whilst keeping eye contact with you. Every part of my chest ached and hurt.

“I really thought- i thought that for once I’d drawn the long straw.” You words came out muffled as blue lines shot out of your hands, going in every direction.

Enid then came up, looking at the mess of rose petals and candles. The note that had gotten stuck under her shoe.

“And you!” I pointed at Enid. “Why would you even accept my invitation if you didn’t like me? What did you think would happen? You’d hook up with my sister then appear at our date and act like nothing is wrong and expect me not to find out, huh?”

“y/n, I’m sorry.” Enid said softly.

“Sorry is just a word, Enid. It has no meaning here. Unless you can find a way to turn back time and erase what you did, I won’t be forgive you. Either of you.”

“y/n, please-“ Enid took a step forward.

“Stay away from me!” I exclaimed. A large bolt of electricity short out of my hand and struck Enid’s chest, making her collapse.

“What did you do?!” Wednesday yelled, the sporadic sense of emotion in her voice startled me. I looked at her and saw an unmoving Enid in her arms. “What did you do?!” She repeated. There were tears in her eyes, but I wasn’t sure if it was from guilt or from Enid being hurt.

My hands shook as I took a step forward. Wednesday glowered at me, daring me to take another step. Enid looked dead. And although I was still mad at her, I felt awful. Wednesday shielded Enid from me before picking her up and carrying her downstairs.

What have I done?

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday x you #wednesday netflix #wednesday tim burton #wednesday the series #wednesday tv show #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday #wednesday x y/n #Wednesday Addams x y/n #Wednesday angst #enid sinclair x wednesday addams #Enid sinclair x reader #enid sinclair x you #Enid sinclair angst #emma myers #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #wednesday fanfic #enid sinclair fanfic #wenclair #morticia addams #gomez addams #enid x reader #enid x you #Enid x y/n #enid sinclair x y/n #elijah writes

[hxney-lemcn]

Tea Errors — General! Jonathan Crane x gn! reader

summery: Harley tries to help reader to get with Jon. But when the reader mysteriously doesn't appear at work one day, Jon can't help but worry. What happens when he finds out they're in a hospital?

tw: Descriptions of injury and violence.

a/n: Idk why, but the rogues have been making me write damn novels compared to my other fics. My average has been like...3.7k words for them when normally its only 1k 😭 This fic is loosely inspired by these headcanons by @roguish-gallery

wc: 5.6k

Master List

(Read it on ao3 here)

“Wait…WHAT?!” Harley shouted, not caring how the other patrons glanced in our direction. Although once they realized it was Harley Quinn, they quickly went back to minding their own business. 

I dropped my head to the table, feeling my body heat up with embarrassment. I knew that telling Harley a secret was like telling a middle aged housewife the neighborhood gossip. Which meant it won’t be a secret for long, but I’ve been keeping this secret for a long time. It was getting draining to hold these feelings in to myself and Harley was surprisingly one of the closest people in my life at the moment. 

How? Well I was Jonathan Crane’s assistant. I helped him with anything he needed to take care of that he didn’t have time to oversee himself. It took me a long time to get into the position I have now, and over that time I found myself falling for him. Somehow. He was reclusive, quiet, and distant. Yet somehow that charmed me. His passion, albeit unique, spoke to me. Not many people were as passionate as he was about his research, and the fact that he never let any setbacks get to him was admirable. It’s one of the reasons why I wanted to help him so much. 

Even more surprising was how Harley Quinn, the clown queen of crime, seemed to have a strange attachment to Dr. Crane. It was like a frenemy situation. Dr. Crane would always seem to have an air of distaste towards Harley when she was around, yet he would never kick her out or yell at her. Not that he was the shouting type. His threats towards her were surface level at worst, and he never scolded me for her somehow getting into his office. 

Which led to us becoming friends. Whenever she deemed Dr. Crane to be worthy of her attention, she’d end up getting sidetracked when I actually would hold a conversation with her. I think Dr. Crane appreciated it as well, since he could actually focus on his toxins instead of making sure Harley didn’t accidentally gas herself…not like it would affect her. 

Which led to the current situation. I confessed my hidden feelings for my boss to Harley Quinn. It was wrong on so many levels. It was unprofessional the way I felt about him, and not to mention that he was a criminal mastermind. 

…well that second point never really mattered. I got over it the second I saw my first paycheck. 

“I know,” I groaned into my arms. “It’s weird.”

“This is amazing!” She squealed, kicking her feet. “Y’know he’s always been a loner. I’ve just been waitin’ for someone to come along and sweep him off of his feet.” 

Lifting my head, I stared blankly at her, “I don’t think I’ve swept anything but the floors.”

“Awe I don’t think that’s true,” She smirked, taking a sip of her obnoxiously bright drink. “Y’know he’s never had an assistant last as long as you have toots. Not to mention he seems ta really like ya. I mean he hasn’t made ya one of his test subjects yet.”

“Yet,” I pointed out, taking a sip of my drink. 

Harley’s cherry red lips were held in a pout, “Don’t be such a party pooper. Besides! If he tries anything he’ll have to get through me!”

I couldn’t stop the small smile that formed on my lips at that statement. There were some perks to having villain friends. Harley may be crazy, but she was loyal. I’m lucky that I’m in her good graces. 

“He’s got a soft spot for ya,” She said with a shrug, stirring her drink with her straw. “He’s just got his own way of showin’ it.”

Harley’s words continued to ring through my head the next day. I brewed some coffee while also checking the email for Dr. Crane. I hadn’t seen him come in yet, so he was either running late (unlikely), or he was already cooped up in his lab (very likely). In fact, it was likely that he hadn't even left it all night. 

Seeing as none of the other rogues contacted Dr. Crane, I decided to check out the lab and make sure everything was in order. I’ve only been into the lab a couple of times. Dr. Crane didn’t like anyone entering, and the times I had been in there were to escort Harley out into his office instead. The lab is where he kept his most vile of fear toxin samples. Building off of his old works to create more potent toxins to warp Batman's mind. 

I knocked on the door first, wanting to make sure I wasn’t intruding. When I didn’t hear anything, I cracked the door open, peering into the room. Tables are littered with burners, tubes, vials, flasks, pipettes, beakers and basically anything you could possibly need for creating toxins that drive people insane and possibly kill them. My eyes finally fell onto the brown haired scientist, slumped over the table with beakers surrounding him. Orange liquids filled some, others were a dark brown. 

Taking a tentative step back, I shut the door as quietly as I could. I made quick work of grabbing the jacket I wore today and quietly slipped into the lab. I scooched the beakers back (keeping them in the same order) to give Crane some more space. I then gently placed my jacket over his shoulders, which made him stir, causing me to tense, only for him to continue his slumber. Carefully, I slid his glasses off his face so he could sleep a bit more comfortably. Folding the legs of his glasses, I placed them near his head.

I should wake him up. It was my job to make sure everything was in working order. Keep an eye on the goons, make sure transactions were upheld, and report any problems to Dr. Crane. Yet seeing how he tended to overwork himself, neglecting his needs, I could only hope that he won’t be too irritated at my decision. Double checking that the space was as safe as it could be, I left the lab. I was just glad he didn’t leave any burners on overnight. 

A few hours later, Crane had entered what could only be described as the lobby. It wasn’t really a lobby, as no one came in and out of the hideout except for goons, but it held my desk. I was absorbed in my work, making sure that the next shipment of chemicals came in discreetly and without a hitch.

“I believe this is yours,” His low voice shocked me out of my trance. Looking away from the screen of my computer, I was met with his blue eyes staring back. With his lips barely uplifting into a smirk, Crane teased, “Didn’t mean to scare ya.” 

“I’m sure you didn’t,” I teased back, taking my jacket back. “I hope you don’t mind that I let you sleep in.” 

It was silent for a few seconds. A few agonizing seconds. His blue eyes felt like they were piercing through me, and I could only hope Harley was right about how Crane felt about me.

“I suppose I wouldn’t be able to properly make batches of my toxins if I were drowsy,” He muttered, pushing his round glasses up his nose. “Speaking of, are those chemicals going to be here today?”

“Yes, sir,” I nodded proudly. I always felt proud when I had good news to give him, even if he didn’t give me a reason to. “They’ll be in within the hour.” 

With a nod, he excused himself and made his way into the makeshift breakroom.

…

“I wish I could help,” Harley pouted, holding her head up in her hand. 

“You have no business getting into other people’s personal lives,” Ivy scolded, green eyes half lidded in a disapproving stare. “Besides, I doubt Crane has any interest in them outside of scaring them.”

My smile fell at that. Ivy was the clear headed one of the two. She kept Harley grounded while Harley helped Ivy let loose every once in a while. Ivy wasn’t really fond of me, though I didn’t blame her. She was weary of all strangers, and we’ve only talked a few times. The only reason being that I was a friend of Harley’s. 

“You shoulda seen ‘im red!” Harley exclaimed, flapping her arms around wildly. “He was totes makin’ goo goo eyes' last time I visited.”

“I don’t even understand why you visit the old crow,” She grumbled, taking a sip of water. 

“You wouldn’t get it,” Harley waved off. “And don’t listen to red toots. She’s just jealous that I’ve been payin’ more attention to your little love story than her.” 

“You wish,” Ivy mumbled into her glass. 

“Anyways,” Harley emphasized. “You gotta show him you're interested! But not over the top. He’s mentioned how he had students flirt with him to get better grades so that type ‘a flirtin’ don’t work for him.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You gotta do somethin’ else,” She explained, twirling her hair. “Y’know, I think he’d really enjoy acts of service. Take care of him a little. Ooo, maybe some quality time.” She winked.

“And how the hell am I supposed to do that?” I asked, slumping over slightly. “Ask him on a date?” Ivy looked as disinterested as ever as Harley tapped her chin in thought.

“Uhhhhmmm,” Harley hummed. “Maybe start with something smaller. Take a break together, get to know each other better.”

I hummed, thinking it over. Harley was actually giving good advice. It wasn’t over the top or brash like it usually is. She must be closer to Crane than I thought.

“I’ll try,” I nodded. It seemed easy enough.

…

Boy was I wrong. It felt nearly impossible to pull Crane away from his work, and I honestly didn’t want to. He seemed close to a breakthrough and I didn’t want to distract him…I’m not sure if it would end well for me if I did. So I decided to focus on what I do best. Acts of service. I dropped by the lab, the room feeling less daunting every time I entered without Crane shooing me out. When his coffee was low, I’d refill his cup, when he hadn't eaten anything since the morning, I’d ask if he wanted any food or snacks. 

It would be stupid to think that Crane hasn’t noticed my change in behavior. How I was providing him more aid than usual. How I started to focus on his needs more. I was just glad he didn’t bring it up, though he wasn’t the type to do that. It was a slow day today. No deals, no shipments, no rogues needing anything. So I was left to help Crane, whether it be cleaning his equipment or getting him another refill. 

“Did you need anything else Dr. Crane?” I asked, watching him drop some chemicals into a flask, the chemicals bubbling as a reaction. “Perhaps you could use a small break.”

He paused for a second, rubbing his eyes. It was hard to ignore the purple under his eyes as it continued to grow darker by the day. I could only imagine the soreness he felt as he hunched over his equipment for hours. I felt a glimmer of hope that I managed to get to him.

“I reckon a break wouldn’t hurt,” He mumbled, pushing himself to stand up. A bright grin splashed across my face, feeling giddy that he actually listened. Shrugging off his lab coat, Crane exited the lab and I trailed behind him. 

“Harley mentioned you tend to overwork yourself,” I spoke up. “But she didn’t need to tell me that since I witness it first hand almost everyday.”

“Yes,” Crane hummed, taking a seat in his office seat. It looked much more comfortable than the stool he used in the lab. “A bad habit. You’ve been talking to Harley?”

“Mhm,” I nodded, standing in front of his desk. I wasn’t fully sure if he wanted me there for his break, but the advice Harley gave rang through my head. “She’s been really nice to me. Inviting me to hang with her during her more laid-back outings…which never seem to stay that way. But I got to meet Ivy! But she doesn’t really like me, so I feel bad when I third wheel her and Harley.”

Crane quirked an eyebrow, but his reaction was as nonchalant as ever, “I wouldn’t feel too guilty, Ivy doesn’t really like anyone outside of Harley.”

“Yeah,” I shrugged, finally deciding to take a seat. “It’s nice to have friends. With my current career path and all, I didn't think I’d have any.”

A silence settled over us before Crane spoke up, “...I understand how the life of crime may be lonely.”

Even though I worked for a criminal, and I was surrounded by criminals, I always forget that I was now technically classified as a criminal. I had worked as a receptionist once when I was a teenager. A minimum wage job to give me some extra spending money. So working for Crane felt nostalgic almost. Even though I was in charge of stock, transactions, and the schedule for Crane…I never saw the aftermath. I could’ve been working for anyone with the tasks I kept, so it was easy for me to forget just how deep I was in if either Crane or I were caught. 

“Well,” I trailed off, trying to gain the courage for what I wanted to say. “I hope my presence makes it just a little less lonely around here.”

Crane was cold, distant, reclusive. That didn’t mean he wasn’t human (even if he didn’t want to admit that). Loneliness was like a disease, once the feeling’s there, it’s hard to make it dissipate. It would slowly creep through you until it would fully consume you. Some people had a higher tolerance to it, others didn’t. 

Crane seemed to be one of the few that was immune to the feeling. He, after all, never showed anything to prove contrary. Yet the hidden warmth that laid just behind his eyes screamed otherwise. Perhaps, his alias as Scarecrow was only one side of him. The side he wanted everyone to see, that he wanted everyone to cower to. But behind that mask, revealed an old man who was both tired and lonely. Perhaps a part of him craved that loneliness, I understood the need to be alone all too well, but it was clear he also craved a connection. For someone to see all of him, and to accept him for all his flaws and perfections. 

“You’ve definitely livened the space up,” He replied, his eyes trailing to the plants I’ve added to his office. “...I do appreciate what you do…thank you.”

I stared at him in awe. The master of fear, a man renowned for bringing your worst fears to life, had given me praise. He had caused my heart rate to accelerate, but it wasn’t from fear. 

…

“YES!” Harley cheered, pumping her fist in the air. “I better be the maid of honor.”

I let out a snort, “If it took this long for him to compliment me I think marriage is far, far in the future.”

“You don’t get it,” Harley grinned, bouncing in her seat. “He neva compliments anyone! He’s basically just confessed his undyin’ love for ya!”

Rolling my eyes, I couldn’t hide the amused grin that took over my lips. The idea of Doctor Jonathan Crane, the brooding workaholic scientist/terrorist professing his undying love was entertaining. A man who was a force to be reckoned with, being soft. The more I thought about it, the more I craved to witness such an event. To be someone he deems special.

The rest of the night went by smoothly. Or as smooth as it can get with Harley. She only busted one guy's ass after he tried to catcall her. So overall, a calm night. We parted ways eventually, and I seemed to have grown too comfortable in Gotham. I was surrounded by rogues! What did I have to fear when I worked with the most fearsome?

There’s nothing more fearsome than desperation. The terror that filled me at this moment was worse than my first day of working under Scarecrow! The man held a knife up to me, hands trembling as he ordered me to hand over my wallet and all other valuable items I may be carrying. I knew better than to fight. My wallet wasn’t worth more than my life. Though I was scared of what the man’s reaction will be when he realizes I don’t have anything of value. I may have been stupid enough to walk down the streets of Gotham without a buddy, but I was smart enough to keep valuables off of me.

I slowly took out my wallet, to make sure he knew I wasn’t a threat. But the man didn’t seem to be stable, whether he was coming down from a high, or was paranoid, I wasn’t sure, but he jerked the knife forward. I gasped, eyes wide as I watched the knife pierce my abdomen, my wallet dropping to the asphalt forgotten. The man also seemed surprised, as he took a step back. 

“W-wait,” I pleaded breathly, but it was too late. The man yanked the knife out and took off running. “Shit,” I whispered, pressing the wound. Moving to sit on the trash littered pavement, I tried to keep pressure on my wound as I dialed 911. 

“911 what’s your emergency?” The dispatcher asked calmly.

“I-I just got stabbed,” I replied, taking a shuddering breath in. The pain started to spread along with the blood that seeped between my fingers. “I need an ambulance.” 

I kept trying to take deep breaths as I gave them my location. My vision started to get blurry as stars filled my peripheral vision. I hoped to whatever was listening that I was close enough to a hospital. That today wouldn’t be my last day. That all I lived up to was being an assistant. Not being able to say goodbye to Harley, to Jon. I tried to stay awake, yet my eyelids were growing heavier by the second. The drone of the dispatcher felt like a lullaby as they tried to question me, keep me awake, keep me alive. 

The sound of sirens rang through my head foggily. The pressure I kept on my side had loosened as my hands started to feel colder. The searing pain started to numb as everything soon turned dark. 

…

When Jonathan had walked into the hideout that following morning, the space was unusually quiet. As he passed your desk, he noted that it hadn’t changed since you left the night before. It was strange when the smell of coffee brewing no longer filled the air. That your cheery voice hadn’t greeted him. He felt his mood sour by the second. 

Though it was odd that you were late. He couldn’t remember a day that you weren’t there to greet him. You were only human, and people made mistakes. He’ll let you off with a warning this time, but don’t make it a habit. 

After making himself a pot of coffee, he went into his lab to drown himself in his work. Like usual. Yet that stupid nagging wouldn’t leave the back of his head. Where were you? If you needed to miss work you would’ve called in. Yes, typically he didn’t really allow sick days. His goons were paid to get the job done, not to lay around and be sick. 

But you weren’t just any goon. You were his charming assistant who made his day, even if he didn’t show it. He paused his movements, eyes fogging over as he started to theorize where you could possibly be. Were you sick? Were you hurt? Maybe you forgot to call? With that thought, Jon took out his phone and called you. Each ring made his heart thump faster. When he heard your voice, a sense of comfort washed over him, only for it to be your voicemail. His comfort vanished. Remembering the fact that you had mentioned going to see Harley, he decided to call her. (Texting wasn’t really his thing).

“Hiya Jon!” Harley greeted over the phone. “You finally called!” Not wanting to waste time, Jon got right to the point, asking if she knew where you were. “Whaddya mean they’re not at work?” Harley asked, voice giving away her concern.

Jon hung up, a scowl starting to form on his face. Where the hell were you? A feeling he hadn’t felt in a long, long time started to form. His gut twisted, heart pumping faster, he felt scared. A feeling he’d normally welcome. A state he was so used to it felt like home. Yet, with the context of you possibly missing, his fear wasn’t welcome. 

It wasn’t until an hour later when relief flooded through his system. Your caller I.D. flashed on his phone screen and he didn’t hesitate to answer.

…

The first thing I heard was the sound of beeping. I scrunched my face as pain seared through my abdomen. Blearily opening my eyes, the bright light overhead seared my brain. I let out a groan as everything started to hurt. My head pounded at the same time heels clicked against the ground. Looking over, a nurse rushed over to me.

“You’re awake!” She spoke loudly, her voice irritatingly cheery for my current condition. “The doctor’s on his way.”

“What happened?” I asked, throat raspy with misuse. 

“I’ll let the doctor go over your condition,” The nurse replied patronizingly. 

“What time is it?” I asked instead, wanting to get some information.

Pulling out her phone, she glanced at it before replying, “It’s currently 10:47 am.” A knock on the door sounded through the room before the doctor entered. 

“Good morning,” The doctor greeted. “How are you feeling?”

“Bad,” I grumbled, trying to shift up on the hospital bed. The nurse quickly rushed over and helped me. 

“Well, it would be concerning if you didn’t feel anything,” The doctor jokes. “I’m Dr. Bell. You’re currently in Gotham General Hospital. You were stabbed, luckily, all major organs and arteries were missed. You’ll be discharged in a few days if your wound shows no signs of infection. Do you have any questions?”

“Uhm,” I muttered, trying to take in all this information at once. “Where…are my things?”

“Would you bring their personal belongings Lynn?” Dr. Bell turned to the nurse who nodded and hurriedly, the sound of her heels following her out of the room. “Not so good news, there’s no one named under your emergency contact list, so you may have to stay longer in the hospital if you have no one to take care of you. And since you were stabbed, the police are here to do a brief interview.” I let out a sigh, leaning my head back. Dr. Bell nodded to two police officers standing just outside of my room before taking her leave. 

“Hello,” One police officer greeted me. The other slightly tipping his hat. “I’m Detective Yates, that’s my partner Tanner. I’m sure you already know why we’re here.” I nodded, pulling the thin hospital blanket further up. 

“We know this may be hard to talk about,” Tanner spoke up. “It’s still fresh, but that’s why we try ta get as much info as we can right away.”

“It’s all really blurry,” I lied. “I might not be much help.” It wasn’t blurry. I remember every second vividly. The distress in the man's dark brown eyes. How his dark brown hair was tousled and greasy like he hasn’t had a shower in days. How his hands trembled with the silver of the knife glittering under the street lights. The look of utter horror, panic, and regret that flashed in his eyes as the knife plunged through my skin. 

He was a person who needed help, not enforcement.

“Any detail will be of help,” Yates gruffed. “Do you remember how they looked?”

“He…he was tall. Maybe 5’9?” I offered. If I said nothing they’d get suspicious of my intentions. “He was wearing a hood, so I couldn’t see much besides that.”

“What clothes was he wearin’?” Tanner asked next.

“Uhm, black hoodie,” I replied. “And blue jeans.”

“How’d he act?” 

“Scared,” I replied honestly. “I don’t think he meant to hurt me. He ran off right after. Don’t remember much after that.”

Another lie. I remember the fear that rushed through me when I believed I was a goner. The pain that felt like liquid fire burning through me. The glow of the street light that shined down on me as I bleed out. Though I doubt that’s what the police needed to know.

“Thank you for your time,” Detective Yates replied, standing up with his partner. “We’ll contact you if we find anything else.”

“Thanks,” I replied awkwardly, waving at them as they left. When I finally thought I’d be left to my own devices, Nurse Lynn entered carrying my belongings. 

“You didn’t have much on you,” She said mindlessly, setting my things down on the bed beside me. “Wallet, phone, and keys. If you need anything, just press this button.” She aimlessly pointed near the side of my bed. With that, she was gone. Finally, peace and quiet…not counting the loud beeping of the heart monitor. Checking my phone, my eyes widened. Over 100 notifications. Most of them being none other than Harley Quinn.

Scrolling through the spam of texts Harley sent, my heart warmed at how much she really cared for me. 

‘Jonny called me’

‘u ok toots?’

‘helloooooooooooooo’

‘ur scaring me here’

‘Jonny never called me before y’know’

‘ANSWER ME’

‘pls’

You get the jist. I quickly typed out a short ‘I’m ok, there was a small accident but it’s all good now’. Then I finally got to the first missed call. Dr. Crane. There was something common between Harley and I. Jon never called me before either, and my nerves started getting to me. I’d never missed a day of work before. Well…only if I were sick. I’d never missed a day of work without telling Jon before. Was he angry? Would he fire me? …would I become his next test subject? 

I never thought about him like that before. I always felt a strange security around him. It was funny, I found comfort in a man who took away people's comfort. Yet that security was stripped. At the end of the day, he was still my boss. A man who didn’t take insubordination lightly. Yes I was literally stabbed, but there was that fear that still lingered. I suppose that was Jon’s entire motif. 

Taking a deep breath, I pressed the call button quickly, like ripping off a bandaid. The heart monitor beeped more rapidly each time the phone rang. It rang three times before he finally answered, my name whispered out under his breath.

“Hey,” I replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Sorry about everything. I, uh, had an accident last night. Doctor said I have to stay in the hospital for a few days, maybe longer since I don’t have anyone to take care of me if I were to go home.”

It was quiet for a few beats.

“Where are you being held?” He asked, his voice low. A shiver ran up my spine at his tone.

“Gotham General Hospital,” I replied back. 

“I’ll be right there,” He muttered before hanging up. I blinked, unsure how to feel. But I couldn’t dwell on it long because I was being spam called by Harley. 

“Hi Harley,” I answered.

“What do you mean you had an accident?” She shouted, making me pull the phone away from my ear. 

“Okay, I’ll tell you everything but you gotta promise not to freak out,” I sighed. “Jon’s already on his way to visit me.”

“OMG YOU JUST CALLED HIM JON,” Harley shrieked. “Wait, you’re distracting me, what’s going on?”

“...I got stabbed.”

“YOU WHAT?” 

I bit my lip, “It sounds worse than it is…?”

“You’re not makin’ much sense toots,” Harley replied, and I could hear the frown on her face. “How can a stabbing sound worse than it is? Are you at the hospital? Please tell me you’re gettin’ cared for.”

“I’m at Gotham Central Hospital,” I stated. “It’s all stitched up. Doc said nothing vital was hit and I just need time to heal. Like I said, it sounds worse than it is.”

Clearly pouting, Harley huffed, “I wish I could visit ya, but I think that’d cause a bit of a hassle.”

I laughed lightly before flinching at the pain it caused, “Yeah, I’d rather you not get arrested.”

“Tell me when you get out, okay?” Harley asked.

“Okay,” I agreed, a warm grin painting my lips.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Do ya know who did it?” Harley finally asked. “I’d just like ta pay ‘em a little visit.”

Looking down at my lap, my smile turned more somber, “You don’t gotta do that Harls’. He didn’t seem to be in the right state of mind.”

“...” Harley stayed silent before responding. “That don’t matta. You got hurt, end of story. End of theirs too.”

I sighed, “No.”

“You got a big heart toots,” Harley sighed. “A little too big if ya ask me.”

I chuckled once more, “Yeah yeah.”

“You get betta for me, alright suga’?” She asked somberly. 

“Of course,” I agreed. 

“And you better call me!”

“I will.”

“...you callin’ him Jon now?” She asked, and I could just imagine the cheeky grin she held. 

My heart stuttered at the implication, “I…it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Mhmmm,” She hummed. “No, of course not. You’ve just been callin’ him Crane for what? Two years now?”

“...”

Harley chuckled at my silence, “Alright, I’ll stop teasin’ ya. You get some rest, okay? I need my best friend back in tip top shape!”

“Aye, aye captain,” I saluted, even if she couldn’t see. 

“Bye bye toots.”

“Bye Harley.”

I felt myself relax, looking over to the small tv that rested in the corner of the room. I picked up the remote that laid on the side table and scrolled through the channels. I frowned as nothing good seemed to be on, and it was hard to see the screen anyways. Why did they put it in the farthest corner of the room?

The sound of knocking resounded through the room, and a nurse entered the room shortly, “You have a visitor.” None other than Jonathan Crane towered behind the nurse. He was as put together as always, the only sign of something being wrong was the intensity of his gaze as it fell onto my figure. The nurse exited just as quickly, closing the door behind her. 

The tension felt high as silence consumed the room. I picked at the linens, anxiety suddenly running through me. Talking to Harley helped me calm down about the situation, but Jon brought me back to reality. 

“Just an accident?” Jon asked, his face never leaving its calm expression.

I offered a sheepish grin, “Does someone get stabbed on purpose?”

His face remained stoic, not a hint of amusement as I tried to diffuse the tension. Jon took a seat in the cheap plastic chair that sat next to the bed. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, the rage in his eyes dying down into a warm caring look. 

I shrugged, “It hurts. I’m tired, a bit hungry.”

“Have you eaten anything yet?”

“No,” I shook my head. The previous tension had dissipated into a warmth. Maybe I should get stabbed more often if Jon would take care of me. Nah, the pain wasn’t all that fun.

…

With Jon taking care of me, my feelings towards him only grew stronger. He’d try to help me through the trauma I gained from the interaction. Trauma I didn’t even realize I really had. I would wake up in a cold sweat some nights, the feeling of the knife penetrating my skin feeling as real as it did the night of the attack. I also couldn’t get over the hopelessness I felt that night. The need to see the people I cared about most just one last time. How I took our interactions for granted. 

I watched with gratitude as Jon pressed the back of his hand on my forehead, making sure I didn’t have a fever. Making sure I wasn’t catching an infection, even though my wound had nearly fully healed. The sudden urge to confess my feelings consumed me. This wasn’t how a boss normally treated their employee. This was how someone treated a loved one.

I wished to see his soft side, and now I saw it, and I never wanted to let go.

“Jon,” I whispered, my breath fanning over his face. His blue eyes met mine, urging me to continue with his expression alone. 

Fear drives people. That’s what Jon theorized. And with recent events, I’ve come to realize that he’s right. I was afraid of rejection, and so I kept how I felt to myself. Now, I was afraid he’ll never know how I feel. How much I care for him, how much I admire and appreciate him. 

“Thank you, for everything,” I thanked, taking in just how handsome he was. “Would you be okay with getting a coffee together?”

The faintest look of surprise crossed his features before that barely there grin pulled his lips up, “Sounds like a treat.”

“Then it's a date,” I grinned, closing the distance and pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“Wait…WHAT?!” Harley shouted, not caring how the other patrons glanced in our direction. Although once they realized it was Harley Quinn, they quickly went back to minding their own business. 

I dropped my head to the table, feeling my body heat up with embarrassment. I knew that telling Harley a secret was like telling a middle aged housewife the neighborhood gossip. Which meant it won’t be a secret for long, but I’ve been keeping this secret for a long time. It was getting draining to hold these feelings in to myself and Harley was surprisingly one of the closest people in my life at the moment. 

How? Well I was Jonathan Crane’s assistant. I helped him with anything he needed to take care of that he didn’t have time to oversee himself. It took me a long time to get into the position I have now, and over that time I found myself falling for him. Somehow. He was reclusive, quiet, and distant. Yet somehow that charmed me. His passion, albeit unique, spoke to me. Not many people were as passionate as he was about his research, and the fact that he never let any setbacks get to him was admirable. It’s one of the reasons why I wanted to help him so much. 

Even more surprising was how Harley Quinn, the clown queen of crime, seemed to have a strange attachment to Dr. Crane. It was like a frenemy situation. Dr. Crane would always seem to have an air of distaste towards Harley when she was around, yet he would never kick her out or yell at her. Not that he was the shouting type. His threats towards her were surface level at worst, and he never scolded me for her somehow getting into his office. 

Which led to us becoming friends. Whenever she deemed Dr. Crane to be worthy of her attention, she’d end up getting sidetracked when I actually would hold a conversation with her. I think Dr. Crane appreciated it as well, since he could actually focus on his toxins instead of making sure Harley didn’t accidentally gas herself…not like it would affect her. 

Which led to the current situation. I confessed my hidden feelings for my boss to Harley Quinn. It was wrong on so many levels. It was unprofessional the way I felt about him, and not to mention that he was a criminal mastermind. 

…well that second point never really mattered. I got over it the second I saw my first paycheck. 

“I know,” I groaned into my arms. “It’s weird.”

“This is amazing!” She squealed, kicking her feet. “Y’know he’s always been a loner. I’ve just been waitin’ for someone to come along and sweep him off of his feet.” 

Lifting my head, I stared blankly at her, “I don’t think I’ve swept anything but the floors.”

“Awe I don’t think that’s true,” She smirked, taking a sip of her obnoxiously bright drink. “Y’know he’s never had an assistant last as long as you have toots. Not to mention he seems ta really like ya. I mean he hasn’t made ya one of his test subjects yet.”

“Yet,” I pointed out, taking a sip of my drink. 

Harley’s cherry red lips were held in a pout, “Don’t be such a party pooper. Besides! If he tries anything he’ll have to get through me!”

I couldn’t stop the small smile that formed on my lips at that statement. There were some perks to having villain friends. Harley may be crazy, but she was loyal. I’m lucky that I’m in her good graces. 

“He’s got a soft spot for ya,” She said with a shrug, stirring her drink with her straw. “He’s just got his own way of showin’ it.”

Harley’s words continued to ring through my head the next day. I brewed some coffee while also checking the email for Dr. Crane. I hadn’t seen him come in yet, so he was either running late (unlikely), or he was already cooped up in his lab (very likely). In fact, it was likely that he hadn't even left it all night. 

Seeing as none of the other rogues contacted Dr. Crane, I decided to check out the lab and make sure everything was in order. I’ve only been into the lab a couple of times. Dr. Crane didn’t like anyone entering, and the times I had been in there were to escort Harley out into his office instead. The lab is where he kept his most vile of fear toxin samples. Building off of his old works to create more potent toxins to warp Batman's mind. 

I knocked on the door first, wanting to make sure I wasn’t intruding. When I didn’t hear anything, I cracked the door open, peering into the room. Tables are littered with burners, tubes, vials, flasks, pipettes, beakers and basically anything you could possibly need for creating toxins that drive people insane and possibly kill them. My eyes finally fell onto the brown haired scientist, slumped over the table with beakers surrounding him. Orange liquids filled some, others were a dark brown. 

Taking a tentative step back, I shut the door as quietly as I could. I made quick work of grabbing the jacket I wore today and quietly slipped into the lab. I scooched the beakers back (keeping them in the same order) to give Crane some more space. I then gently placed my jacket over his shoulders, which made him stir, causing me to tense, only for him to continue his slumber. Carefully, I slid his glasses off his face so he could sleep a bit more comfortably. Folding the legs of his glasses, I placed them near his head.

I should wake him up. It was my job to make sure everything was in working order. Keep an eye on the goons, make sure transactions were upheld, and report any problems to Dr. Crane. Yet seeing how he tended to overwork himself, neglecting his needs, I could only hope that he won’t be too irritated at my decision. Double checking that the space was as safe as it could be, I left the lab. I was just glad he didn’t leave any burners on overnight. 

A few hours later, Crane had entered what could only be described as the lobby. It wasn’t really a lobby, as no one came in and out of the hideout except for goons, but it held my desk. I was absorbed in my work, making sure that the next shipment of chemicals came in discreetly and without a hitch.

“I believe this is yours,” His low voice shocked me out of my trance. Looking away from the screen of my computer, I was met with his blue eyes staring back. With his lips barely uplifting into a smirk, Crane teased, “Didn’t mean to scare ya.” 

“I’m sure you didn’t,” I teased back, taking my jacket back. “I hope you don’t mind that I let you sleep in.” 

It was silent for a few seconds. A few agonizing seconds. His blue eyes felt like they were piercing through me, and I could only hope Harley was right about how Crane felt about me.

“I suppose I wouldn’t be able to properly make batches of my toxins if I were drowsy,” He muttered, pushing his round glasses up his nose. “Speaking of, are those chemicals going to be here today?”

“Yes, sir,” I nodded proudly. I always felt proud when I had good news to give him, even if he didn’t give me a reason to. “They’ll be in within the hour.” 

With a nod, he excused himself and made his way into the makeshift breakroom.

…

“I wish I could help,” Harley pouted, holding her head up in her hand. 

“You have no business getting into other people’s personal lives,” Ivy scolded, green eyes half lidded in a disapproving stare. “Besides, I doubt Crane has any interest in them outside of scaring them.”

My smile fell at that. Ivy was the clear headed one of the two. She kept Harley grounded while Harley helped Ivy let loose every once in a while. Ivy wasn’t really fond of me, though I didn’t blame her. She was weary of all strangers, and we’ve only talked a few times. The only reason being that I was a friend of Harley’s. 

“You shoulda seen ‘im red!” Harley exclaimed, flapping her arms around wildly. “He was totes makin’ goo goo eyes' last time I visited.”

“I don’t even understand why you visit the old crow,” She grumbled, taking a sip of water. 

“You wouldn’t get it,” Harley waved off. “And don’t listen to red toots. She’s just jealous that I’ve been payin’ more attention to your little love story than her.” 

“You wish,” Ivy mumbled into her glass. 

“Anyways,” Harley emphasized. “You gotta show him you're interested! But not over the top. He’s mentioned how he had students flirt with him to get better grades so that type ‘a flirtin’ don’t work for him.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You gotta do somethin’ else,” She explained, twirling her hair. “Y’know, I think he’d really enjoy acts of service. Take care of him a little. Ooo, maybe some quality time.” She winked.

“And how the hell am I supposed to do that?” I asked, slumping over slightly. “Ask him on a date?” Ivy looked as disinterested as ever as Harley tapped her chin in thought.

“Uhhhhmmm,” Harley hummed. “Maybe start with something smaller. Take a break together, get to know each other better.”

I hummed, thinking it over. Harley was actually giving good advice. It wasn’t over the top or brash like it usually is. She must be closer to Crane than I thought.

“I’ll try,” I nodded. It seemed easy enough.

…

Boy was I wrong. It felt nearly impossible to pull Crane away from his work, and I honestly didn’t want to. He seemed close to a breakthrough and I didn’t want to distract him…I’m not sure if it would end well for me if I did. So I decided to focus on what I do best. Acts of service. I dropped by the lab, the room feeling less daunting every time I entered without Crane shooing me out. When his coffee was low, I’d refill his cup, when he hadn't eaten anything since the morning, I’d ask if he wanted any food or snacks. 

It would be stupid to think that Crane hasn’t noticed my change in behavior. How I was providing him more aid than usual. How I started to focus on his needs more. I was just glad he didn’t bring it up, though he wasn’t the type to do that. It was a slow day today. No deals, no shipments, no rogues needing anything. So I was left to help Crane, whether it be cleaning his equipment or getting him another refill. 

“Did you need anything else Dr. Crane?” I asked, watching him drop some chemicals into a flask, the chemicals bubbling as a reaction. “Perhaps you could use a small break.”

He paused for a second, rubbing his eyes. It was hard to ignore the purple under his eyes as it continued to grow darker by the day. I could only imagine the soreness he felt as he hunched over his equipment for hours. I felt a glimmer of hope that I managed to get to him.

“I reckon a break wouldn’t hurt,” He mumbled, pushing himself to stand up. A bright grin splashed across my face, feeling giddy that he actually listened. Shrugging off his lab coat, Crane exited the lab and I trailed behind him. 

“Harley mentioned you tend to overwork yourself,” I spoke up. “But she didn’t need to tell me that since I witness it first hand almost everyday.”

“Yes,” Crane hummed, taking a seat in his office seat. It looked much more comfortable than the stool he used in the lab. “A bad habit. You’ve been talking to Harley?”

“Mhm,” I nodded, standing in front of his desk. I wasn’t fully sure if he wanted me there for his break, but the advice Harley gave rang through my head. “She’s been really nice to me. Inviting me to hang with her during her more laid-back outings…which never seem to stay that way. But I got to meet Ivy! But she doesn’t really like me, so I feel bad when I third wheel her and Harley.”

Crane quirked an eyebrow, but his reaction was as nonchalant as ever, “I wouldn’t feel too guilty, Ivy doesn’t really like anyone outside of Harley.”

“Yeah,” I shrugged, finally deciding to take a seat. “It’s nice to have friends. With my current career path and all, I didn't think I’d have any.”

A silence settled over us before Crane spoke up, “...I understand how the life of crime may be lonely.”

Even though I worked for a criminal, and I was surrounded by criminals, I always forget that I was now technically classified as a criminal. I had worked as a receptionist once when I was a teenager. A minimum wage job to give me some extra spending money. So working for Crane felt nostalgic almost. Even though I was in charge of stock, transactions, and the schedule for Crane…I never saw the aftermath. I could’ve been working for anyone with the tasks I kept, so it was easy for me to forget just how deep I was in if either Crane or I were caught. 

“Well,” I trailed off, trying to gain the courage for what I wanted to say. “I hope my presence makes it just a little less lonely around here.”

Crane was cold, distant, reclusive. That didn’t mean he wasn’t human (even if he didn’t want to admit that). Loneliness was like a disease, once the feeling’s there, it’s hard to make it dissipate. It would slowly creep through you until it would fully consume you. Some people had a higher tolerance to it, others didn’t. 

Crane seemed to be one of the few that was immune to the feeling. He, after all, never showed anything to prove contrary. Yet the hidden warmth that laid just behind his eyes screamed otherwise. Perhaps, his alias as Scarecrow was only one side of him. The side he wanted everyone to see, that he wanted everyone to cower to. But behind that mask, revealed an old man who was both tired and lonely. Perhaps a part of him craved that loneliness, I understood the need to be alone all too well, but it was clear he also craved a connection. For someone to see all of him, and to accept him for all his flaws and perfections. 

“You’ve definitely livened the space up,” He replied, his eyes trailing to the plants I’ve added to his office. “...I do appreciate what you do…thank you.”

I stared at him in awe. The master of fear, a man renowned for bringing your worst fears to life, had given me praise. He had caused my heart rate to accelerate, but it wasn’t from fear. 

…

“YES!” Harley cheered, pumping her fist in the air. “I better be the maid of honor.”

I let out a snort, “If it took this long for him to compliment me I think marriage is far, far in the future.”

“You don’t get it,” Harley grinned, bouncing in her seat. “He neva compliments anyone! He’s basically just confessed his undyin’ love for ya!”

Rolling my eyes, I couldn’t hide the amused grin that took over my lips. The idea of Doctor Jonathan Crane, the brooding workaholic scientist/terrorist professing his undying love was entertaining. A man who was a force to be reckoned with, being soft. The more I thought about it, the more I craved to witness such an event. To be someone he deems special.

The rest of the night went by smoothly. Or as smooth as it can get with Harley. She only busted one guy's ass after he tried to catcall her. So overall, a calm night. We parted ways eventually, and I seemed to have grown too comfortable in Gotham. I was surrounded by rogues! What did I have to fear when I worked with the most fearsome?

There’s nothing more fearsome than desperation. The terror that filled me at this moment was worse than my first day of working under Scarecrow! The man held a knife up to me, hands trembling as he ordered me to hand over my wallet and all other valuable items I may be carrying. I knew better than to fight. My wallet wasn’t worth more than my life. Though I was scared of what the man’s reaction will be when he realizes I don’t have anything of value. I may have been stupid enough to walk down the streets of Gotham without a buddy, but I was smart enough to keep valuables off of me.

I slowly took out my wallet, to make sure he knew I wasn’t a threat. But the man didn’t seem to be stable, whether he was coming down from a high, or was paranoid, I wasn’t sure, but he jerked the knife forward. I gasped, eyes wide as I watched the knife pierce my abdomen, my wallet dropping to the asphalt forgotten. The man also seemed surprised, as he took a step back. 

“W-wait,” I pleaded breathly, but it was too late. The man yanked the knife out and took off running. “Shit,” I whispered, pressing the wound. Moving to sit on the trash littered pavement, I tried to keep pressure on my wound as I dialed 911. 

“911 what’s your emergency?” The dispatcher asked calmly.

“I-I just got stabbed,” I replied, taking a shuddering breath in. The pain started to spread along with the blood that seeped between my fingers. “I need an ambulance.” 

I kept trying to take deep breaths as I gave them my location. My vision started to get blurry as stars filled my peripheral vision. I hoped to whatever was listening that I was close enough to a hospital. That today wouldn’t be my last day. That all I lived up to was being an assistant. Not being able to say goodbye to Harley, to Jon. I tried to stay awake, yet my eyelids were growing heavier by the second. The drone of the dispatcher felt like a lullaby as they tried to question me, keep me awake, keep me alive. 

The sound of sirens rang through my head foggily. The pressure I kept on my side had loosened as my hands started to feel colder. The searing pain started to numb as everything soon turned dark. 

…

When Jonathan had walked into the hideout that following morning, the space was unusually quiet. As he passed your desk, he noted that it hadn’t changed since you left the night before. It was strange when the smell of coffee brewing no longer filled the air. That your cheery voice hadn’t greeted him. He felt his mood sour by the second. 

Though it was odd that you were late. He couldn’t remember a day that you weren’t there to greet him. You were only human, and people made mistakes. He’ll let you off with a warning this time, but don’t make it a habit. 

After making himself a pot of coffee, he went into his lab to drown himself in his work. Like usual. Yet that stupid nagging wouldn’t leave the back of his head. Where were you? If you needed to miss work you would’ve called in. Yes, typically he didn’t really allow sick days. His goons were paid to get the job done, not to lay around and be sick. 

But you weren’t just any goon. You were his charming assistant who made his day, even if he didn’t show it. He paused his movements, eyes fogging over as he started to theorize where you could possibly be. Were you sick? Were you hurt? Maybe you forgot to call? With that thought, Jon took out his phone and called you. Each ring made his heart thump faster. When he heard your voice, a sense of comfort washed over him, only for it to be your voicemail. His comfort vanished. Remembering the fact that you had mentioned going to see Harley, he decided to call her. (Texting wasn’t really his thing).

“Hiya Jon!” Harley greeted over the phone. “You finally called!” Not wanting to waste time, Jon got right to the point, asking if she knew where you were. “Whaddya mean they’re not at work?” Harley asked, voice giving away her concern.

Jon hung up, a scowl starting to form on his face. Where the hell were you? A feeling he hadn’t felt in a long, long time started to form. His gut twisted, heart pumping faster, he felt scared. A feeling he’d normally welcome. A state he was so used to it felt like home. Yet, with the context of you possibly missing, his fear wasn’t welcome. 

It wasn’t until an hour later when relief flooded through his system. Your caller I.D. flashed on his phone screen and he didn’t hesitate to answer.

…

The first thing I heard was the sound of beeping. I scrunched my face as pain seared through my abdomen. Blearily opening my eyes, the bright light overhead seared my brain. I let out a groan as everything started to hurt. My head pounded at the same time heels clicked against the ground. Looking over, a nurse rushed over to me.

“You’re awake!” She spoke loudly, her voice irritatingly cheery for my current condition. “The doctor’s on his way.”

“What happened?” I asked, throat raspy with misuse. 

“I’ll let the doctor go over your condition,” The nurse replied patronizingly. 

“What time is it?” I asked instead, wanting to get some information.

Pulling out her phone, she glanced at it before replying, “It’s currently 10:47 am.” A knock on the door sounded through the room before the doctor entered. 

“Good morning,” The doctor greeted. “How are you feeling?”

“Bad,” I grumbled, trying to shift up on the hospital bed. The nurse quickly rushed over and helped me. 

“Well, it would be concerning if you didn’t feel anything,” The doctor jokes. “I’m Dr. Bell. You’re currently in Gotham General Hospital. You were stabbed, luckily, all major organs and arteries were missed. You’ll be discharged in a few days if your wound shows no signs of infection. Do you have any questions?”

“Uhm,” I muttered, trying to take in all this information at once. “Where…are my things?”

“Would you bring their personal belongings Lynn?” Dr. Bell turned to the nurse who nodded and hurriedly, the sound of her heels following her out of the room. “Not so good news, there’s no one named under your emergency contact list, so you may have to stay longer in the hospital if you have no one to take care of you. And since you were stabbed, the police are here to do a brief interview.” I let out a sigh, leaning my head back. Dr. Bell nodded to two police officers standing just outside of my room before taking her leave. 

“Hello,” One police officer greeted me. The other slightly tipping his hat. “I’m Detective Yates, that’s my partner Tanner. I’m sure you already know why we’re here.” I nodded, pulling the thin hospital blanket further up. 

“We know this may be hard to talk about,” Tanner spoke up. “It’s still fresh, but that’s why we try ta get as much info as we can right away.”

“It’s all really blurry,” I lied. “I might not be much help.” It wasn’t blurry. I remember every second vividly. The distress in the man's dark brown eyes. How his dark brown hair was tousled and greasy like he hasn’t had a shower in days. How his hands trembled with the silver of the knife glittering under the street lights. The look of utter horror, panic, and regret that flashed in his eyes as the knife plunged through my skin. 

He was a person who needed help, not enforcement.

“Any detail will be of help,” Yates gruffed. “Do you remember how they looked?”

“He…he was tall. Maybe 5’9?” I offered. If I said nothing they’d get suspicious of my intentions. “He was wearing a hood, so I couldn’t see much besides that.”

“What clothes was he wearin’?” Tanner asked next.

“Uhm, black hoodie,” I replied. “And blue jeans.”

“How’d he act?” 

“Scared,” I replied honestly. “I don’t think he meant to hurt me. He ran off right after. Don’t remember much after that.”

Another lie. I remember the fear that rushed through me when I believed I was a goner. The pain that felt like liquid fire burning through me. The glow of the street light that shined down on me as I bleed out. Though I doubt that’s what the police needed to know.

“Thank you for your time,” Detective Yates replied, standing up with his partner. “We’ll contact you if we find anything else.”

“Thanks,” I replied awkwardly, waving at them as they left. When I finally thought I’d be left to my own devices, Nurse Lynn entered carrying my belongings. 

“You didn’t have much on you,” She said mindlessly, setting my things down on the bed beside me. “Wallet, phone, and keys. If you need anything, just press this button.” She aimlessly pointed near the side of my bed. With that, she was gone. Finally, peace and quiet…not counting the loud beeping of the heart monitor. Checking my phone, my eyes widened. Over 100 notifications. Most of them being none other than Harley Quinn.

Scrolling through the spam of texts Harley sent, my heart warmed at how much she really cared for me. 

‘Jonny called me’

‘u ok toots?’

‘helloooooooooooooo’

‘ur scaring me here’

‘Jonny never called me before y’know’

‘ANSWER ME’

‘pls’

You get the jist. I quickly typed out a short ‘I’m ok, there was a small accident but it’s all good now’. Then I finally got to the first missed call. Dr. Crane. There was something common between Harley and I. Jon never called me before either, and my nerves started getting to me. I’d never missed a day of work before. Well…only if I were sick. I’d never missed a day of work without telling Jon before. Was he angry? Would he fire me? …would I become his next test subject? 

I never thought about him like that before. I always felt a strange security around him. It was funny, I found comfort in a man who took away people's comfort. Yet that security was stripped. At the end of the day, he was still my boss. A man who didn’t take insubordination lightly. Yes I was literally stabbed, but there was that fear that still lingered. I suppose that was Jon’s entire motif. 

Taking a deep breath, I pressed the call button quickly, like ripping off a bandaid. The heart monitor beeped more rapidly each time the phone rang. It rang three times before he finally answered, my name whispered out under his breath.

“Hey,” I replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Sorry about everything. I, uh, had an accident last night. Doctor said I have to stay in the hospital for a few days, maybe longer since I don’t have anyone to take care of me if I were to go home.”

It was quiet for a few beats.

“Where are you being held?” He asked, his voice low. A shiver ran up my spine at his tone.

“Gotham General Hospital,” I replied back. 

“I’ll be right there,” He muttered before hanging up. I blinked, unsure how to feel. But I couldn’t dwell on it long because I was being spam called by Harley. 

“Hi Harley,” I answered.

“What do you mean you had an accident?” She shouted, making me pull the phone away from my ear. 

“Okay, I’ll tell you everything but you gotta promise not to freak out,” I sighed. “Jon’s already on his way to visit me.”

“OMG YOU JUST CALLED HIM JON,” Harley shrieked. “Wait, you’re distracting me, what’s going on?”

“...I got stabbed.”

“YOU WHAT?” 

I bit my lip, “It sounds worse than it is…?”

“You’re not makin’ much sense toots,” Harley replied, and I could hear the frown on her face. “How can a stabbing sound worse than it is? Are you at the hospital? Please tell me you’re gettin’ cared for.”

“I’m at Gotham Central Hospital,” I stated. “It’s all stitched up. Doc said nothing vital was hit and I just need time to heal. Like I said, it sounds worse than it is.”

Clearly pouting, Harley huffed, “I wish I could visit ya, but I think that’d cause a bit of a hassle.”

I laughed lightly before flinching at the pain it caused, “Yeah, I’d rather you not get arrested.”

“Tell me when you get out, okay?” Harley asked.

“Okay,” I agreed, a warm grin painting my lips.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Do ya know who did it?” Harley finally asked. “I’d just like ta pay ‘em a little visit.”

Looking down at my lap, my smile turned more somber, “You don’t gotta do that Harls’. He didn’t seem to be in the right state of mind.”

“...” Harley stayed silent before responding. “That don’t matta. You got hurt, end of story. End of theirs too.”

I sighed, “No.”

“You got a big heart toots,” Harley sighed. “A little too big if ya ask me.”

I chuckled once more, “Yeah yeah.”

“You get betta for me, alright suga’?” She asked somberly. 

“Of course,” I agreed. 

“And you better call me!”

“I will.”

“...you callin’ him Jon now?” She asked, and I could just imagine the cheeky grin she held. 

My heart stuttered at the implication, “I…it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Mhmmm,” She hummed. “No, of course not. You’ve just been callin’ him Crane for what? Two years now?”

“...”

Harley chuckled at my silence, “Alright, I’ll stop teasin’ ya. You get some rest, okay? I need my best friend back in tip top shape!”

“Aye, aye captain,” I saluted, even if she couldn’t see. 

“Bye bye toots.”

“Bye Harley.”

I felt myself relax, looking over to the small tv that rested in the corner of the room. I picked up the remote that laid on the side table and scrolled through the channels. I frowned as nothing good seemed to be on, and it was hard to see the screen anyways. Why did they put it in the farthest corner of the room?

The sound of knocking resounded through the room, and a nurse entered the room shortly, “You have a visitor.” None other than Jonathan Crane towered behind the nurse. He was as put together as always, the only sign of something being wrong was the intensity of his gaze as it fell onto my figure. The nurse exited just as quickly, closing the door behind her. 

The tension felt high as silence consumed the room. I picked at the linens, anxiety suddenly running through me. Talking to Harley helped me calm down about the situation, but Jon brought me back to reality. 

“Just an accident?” Jon asked, his face never leaving its calm expression.

I offered a sheepish grin, “Does someone get stabbed on purpose?”

His face remained stoic, not a hint of amusement as I tried to diffuse the tension. Jon took a seat in the cheap plastic chair that sat next to the bed. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, the rage in his eyes dying down into a warm caring look. 

I shrugged, “It hurts. I’m tired, a bit hungry.”

“Have you eaten anything yet?”

“No,” I shook my head. The previous tension had dissipated into a warmth. Maybe I should get stabbed more often if Jon would take care of me. Nah, the pain wasn’t all that fun.

…

With Jon taking care of me, my feelings towards him only grew stronger. He’d try to help me through the trauma I gained from the interaction. Trauma I didn’t even realize I really had. I would wake up in a cold sweat some nights, the feeling of the knife penetrating my skin feeling as real as it did the night of the attack. I also couldn’t get over the hopelessness I felt that night. The need to see the people I cared about most just one last time. How I took our interactions for granted. 

I watched with gratitude as Jon pressed the back of his hand on my forehead, making sure I didn’t have a fever. Making sure I wasn’t catching an infection, even though my wound had nearly fully healed. The sudden urge to confess my feelings consumed me. This wasn’t how a boss normally treated their employee. This was how someone treated a loved one.

I wished to see his soft side, and now I saw it, and I never wanted to let go.

“Jon,” I whispered, my breath fanning over his face. His blue eyes met mine, urging me to continue with his expression alone. 

Fear drives people. That’s what Jon theorized. And with recent events, I’ve come to realize that he’s right. I was afraid of rejection, and so I kept how I felt to myself. Now, I was afraid he’ll never know how I feel. How much I care for him, how much I admire and appreciate him. 

“Thank you, for everything,” I thanked, taking in just how handsome he was. “Would you be okay with getting a coffee together?”

The faintest look of surprise crossed his features before that barely there grin pulled his lips up, “Sounds like a treat.”

“Then it's a date,” I grinned, closing the distance and pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

#jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #gotham rogues x reader #rogues gallery x reader #jonathan crane #scarecrow #x reader #rogues gallery #gotham rogues #dork squad #dork squad x reader

[pastrydragon]

Accent, speech pattern and Voice headcanons for the Gotham Rogues.

Riddler

In casual settings, Eddie has a slight New Jersey accent and cusses with the frequency you would expect from that.

He almost always has perfect grammar and has a very impressive vocabulary.

But there are some situations where "Fuck" just does not have a suitable replacement.

When he's going against Batman, The Riddler adopts a more trans Atlantic accent since it goes with his gameshow aesthetic.

Also since a LOT of his schemes are publicly televised he doesn't want to cuss on camera or forget to project his voice.

So adopting a different accent helps his brain remember how to act on camera so he can always appear classy.

Edward's voice is a bit more high and nasally than average, but not to an annoying degree. It's not particularly unique either. So if he remembers so change his voice slightly then he can make a phone call to anywhere and they won't recognize him.

Emotional variations include his accent getting thicker when he's angry or exhausted.

Scarecrow

John has a very rural Georgian accent.

Scarecrow: The Master Of Fear has a rather dramatic way of speaking due to his love of classic literature and poetry.

His years in academia have also left him with a very intellectual and scientific vocabulary.

John speaks with a kind of intensity and eloquence that you'd expect on a stage rather than at the front of a classroom.

A smooth baritone only enhances the effect.

Had he not been a professor, he would have made a killing as a raidio star or television narrator.

John only breaks out Southernisms when he's embarrassed. "Well I never!" "Why I outta-" he also stammers when embarrassed. otherwise his speech patterns don't have noticeable emotional variation except the ones he puts there.

Mad Hatter

Jervis has a strong Bristol accent. Which is an English accent that strongly pronounces R's and tends to slap an L at the end of words that should end in a vowel.

The classic example is Opera'l instead of Opera.

His voice is naturally high and soft, often making him sound much more indulgent toward others than he's actually feeling.

Although he does quote the Alice books often, he does not quote longer passages exactly unless he's having an episode.

The rest of the time he'll change them to fit what's happening or merely reference them.

If he's feeling particularly lucid and cheery, you may not even hear mention of the books at all.

Stress will cause longer more accurate quotes and chip at his lucidity along the way.

His only other emotional variation comes out when he's feeling flirtatious.

Jervis's voice tends to get more breathy and cooing around people he likes. He also goes harder on his R's giving some words a purr like sound.

Harley Quinn

We all know and love our girl Harley's Brooklyn accent.

Honestly I can't make an improvement on the BTAS version so scroll down.

Poison Ivy

Pam has a Virginian accent. It's the kind of southern bell accent you'd associate with Blanche Devereux.

Pair that with a voice like a lounge singer and everything that comes out of her mouth sounds sexy.

Even when she doesn't want it to.

It's actually pretty annoying for her.

Unlike John she uses plenty of southernisms such as "I Reckon" "Over yonder" and of course the venom filled "Bless your heart."

Catwomen

The Miami accent is strong on this women, and it tells you exactly why she moved to Gotham.

You can't wear all black leather in the kind of weather Florida's got.

Miami heat isn't sweet to everyone.

Being a second generation Cuban immigrant, she speaks Spanish fluently and while she speaks both it and English seamlessly she has run into one glitch.

She will occasionally forget whether a turn of phrase was originally English or Spanish.

She called John a dancing skeleton once and no one has let it die. From Esqueleto rumbero- Literally: Dancing skeleton, Meaning: Very thin.

Her actual voice is a pretty standard alto. Like Ed, as long as she disguises her accent she can basically call wherever without being recognized.

Another rogue that hits their R's harder while flirting. But it's less a seductive purr and more an "Oh, I'm being HUNTED" kind of sound to hear.

Bane

Bane is directly from Venezuela and has the accent to match.

His English is phenomenal for someone who's only been speaking it a few years but it's not always perfect.

Whenever he doesn't know or forgets the word for something he'll describe it using other words until the other person figures it out for him.

For example, this interaction between him and Riddler: "I need the office knives." "... I'm sorry, what?" "The office knives, with the holes in the handle." "Hmmm, is the answer perhaps scissors?" "YES! I need the scissors!"

Edward is the grand champion of figuring out what Bane is saying if Catwomen or Music Meister isn't there to translate the word from Spanish.

Bane has a naturally loud and deep voice which can make him sound aggressive even when he's not trying to be. His size doesn't help.

But really he's a very calm and levelheaded person.

If he's actually angry, you'll know it from how quiet deliberate his speech becomes.

A quiet Bane is a dangerous Bane.

Joker

New York accent.

Drops occasional NY phrases but doesn’t mention anything culturally significant to New York unless someone else brings it up.

He doesn't remember what part of New York he's from but if asked he'll say Coney Island.

His jealousy over Eddie growing up in Wildwood is real.

Harley swears up and down he's from Staten Island and anyone familiar with the different New York accents would agree with her.

Joker has a pretty distinct reedy voice that all gothamites will recognize as soon as they hear it.

It gets even higher on the rare occasion he's scared or nervous.

Music Meister

SoCal (Southern California) accent.

This accent is also called Valley Girl.

He's originally from San Diego and spent his early twenties in LA so the accent is thick and locked in.

He moved to the east coast to attempt a Broadway career before turning to villainy and kind of regrets not moving back west first.

He's the first person to complain about cold weather and bad Mexican food when the chance pops up.

But he's gotten too fond of the other rogues to seriously consider leaving.

Even if the Scarecrow keeps smacking him with a newspaper every time he misuses the word "literally".

He automatically starts singing his words when he becomes frightened or incredibly nervous. Which made sense until he revealed he did that even before he got his powers.

Odd.

Killer Croc

Waylon has a thick cajun accent, that along with a naturally growly bass voice can make it difficult for others to understand him.

He prefers speaking French to English and will go out of his way to talk to people he thinks might speak his preferred language.

Jervis, Edward, Victor Fries and Joker speak with him in French when in a one on one conversation. 

Yes Joker speaks French, no he doesn’t remember why or how. He honestly didn’t even know he could until he met Waylon. 

Waylon is incredibly charming and personable once you figure out what he's saying, he's definitely the most well liked rogue among his peers next to Harley.

Emotional variants include getting even more growly when angry and speaking completely in French when distracted.

Penguin

A lot of people say he has an English accent, he doesn’t, never say this in front of him.

The man is WELSH, and he has ruined people’s lives over having his accent confused on particularly difficult days.

He takes great pride in his heritage and being accused of being “English” of all things is one of the quickest ways to sour his mood.

No offense to Mr. Tetch of course, it's the principle of the thing really.

He rarely speaks Welsh these days unless visiting extended family.

He does use the proverb “Deuparth gwaith yw ei ddechrau”(Two-thirds of work is starting), mostly to himself but he’ll use the proverb with others when appropriate.

Emotional variants include his voice getting squawk like when scared. He also laughs like a mad pelican.

Clayface

I forget who came up with this originally and I'm kicking myself for not remembering but I've adopted the head canon that Clayface was an "aging" K-pop/drama star that was on tour in the states when his manager coerced him into trying an experimental cosmetic treatment that turned him into Clayface.

So Clay has a very strong Korean accent and probably speaks the worst English out of all the rogues.

It's passable but he understandably just wasn't expecting to need it this much.

Despite his difficulties he still somehow gains control over the majority of his conversations and seems to exude likability.

He's trained for years to make his voice as soothing and pleasant as possible and he's not going to let being a mud monster ruin his hard work.

Until something triggers his traumatic memories and sends him into a frothing rage full of bubbling curses or a depressive meltdown where he becomes a pile of blubbering goo.

He's totally incomprehensible when he's having either kind of breakdown even to other Korean speakers, honestly HE doesn't even really know what he's saying.

Many of the rogues have hired him to put his acting skills to use in various schemes and Clayface is amazed at all the new voices he can do.

He's also been Music Meister's backup vocalist for a few of his schemes so you know he's legitimately good.

Bookworm

He has a rather general east coast accent.

Until he gets angry and starts cursing in Portuguese.

You'd never guess because he's an ashy fucker and his skin never sees the sun since he spends all his time reading inside, but the guy is mainly indigenous Brazilian.

You might be able to get a clue from his facial features if he wasn't wearing the world's thickest glasses and a hat.

He has near permanent "Library voice" so people often struggle to hear him above everything else that might be going on.

His voice is surprisingly sonorous and captivating when he can be well heard.

Since Arkham doesn't often get new books, fresh literature was fought over until Joker suggested "AudioBookworm" which is just Bookworm reading the new book aloud for everyone.

Until his little used voice gives out a bit at which point Scarecrow or Mad Hatter will step in until the end of the chapter.

Mr. Freeze

Victor has a moderate Icelandic accent.

Riddler and Joker have a competition going to see how many lines from Skyrim they can trick him into saying.

Victor figured it out immediately but plays dumb to this day in order to fuck with them.

He said "Hey, you. You're finally awake." to Edward after he woke up from a nap in the rec room once and Victor will treasure the face that nerd made forever.

Victor has a bit of a "resting bitch voice" he always sounds annoyed.

Unless he's talking to Nora, then he just sounds like a simp.

Not really a voice head canon but he gets hiccups very easily from laughing.

BONUS Nora

Nora is from Belarus so she often got mistaken for having a Russian accent.

But unlike Oswald she rarely cares enough to correct people much less get angry over it.

Nora speaks with great confidence and authority, even when she doesn't necessarily have either.

Her voice definitely broadcasts "Don't even fucking THINK about arguing with me."

The personality and accent get her the nickname "Ice queen" wherever she works.

Which is very unfair, she's a kind and compassionate women!

She's just also right and she should say it.

Nora's voice becomes utterly saccharine around Victor, they're absolutely obnoxious to listen to together.

#headcanon #gotham rogues #batman rogues #batman villains #pastry writes #riddler #edward nygma #scarecrow #jonathan crane #mad hatter #jervis tetch #harley quinn #pamela isley #poison ivy #selina kyle #catwomen #Bane #Joker #music meister #Dennis prowell #killer croc #waylon jones #Penguin #oswald cobblepot #Clayface #basil karlo #not his name in this AU but for the sake of simplicity #bookworm #I.N. kingor #mr freeze

[vodrae]

Gotham City top Mole :

- Poison Ivy, talks to plants, always useful if something happens near a park. Hard to convince. Will almost always collaborate without telling it if the victim is a woman or a child. Always ask more space for the green in the city.

- Catwoman. There is strays everywhere in the city, and she understand them. In general more willing than her girlfriend Ivy. Will ask about her criminal record or us to look the other way during her next heist. If it's get to difficult, ask Batman to handle her.

- Harley Quinn. Give informations on the Clown Gang without us asking. Give her a cap, a gun with fake bullets, a badge and let her use the car's siren and she will tell everything we need. She won't work with us if her girlfriends are not happy with our deal. In this case, call any vigilante in town and let them share a batburger with her.

- Viktor Friese. Since WayneTech offered him a lab suiting his condition to conduct his researchs to save his wife, he is always willing to help.

- Harvey Dent/Double-Face. Already save the city more times than it's good to write it down. Everytime, we needed Bruce Wayne.

- Ratcatcher. He can talk to rats, and they are everywhere. Let him calls his family or promise him a better cell. In VERY LAST RESORT, theaten to arrest his daughter for complicity.

#batman #batfamily #batfam #bruce wayne #batman headcanon #dc comics #catwoman #selina kyle #jim gordon #batburger #poison ivy #harley quinn #harlivy #gotham city sirens #harley quinn x poison ivy x catwoman #mr freeze #bruharvey #double face #ratcatcher #gotham city

[st4r-bby]

04. fight .

WE ALL KNOW WHAT MOVIE AND CHARACTER

summary : MAN THEY FOUGHT.

contains : yelling, kys, crying, mentions of y/n's mother, violence, anger, angst, cursing, blood.

"ethan fucking landry!" y/n screamed, ethan left multiple candy wrappers on her floor, this always happened and she always had the same reaction about it. "yes?" ethan answered innocently, he left those wrappers on purpose, expecting her every time to clean it for him.

"GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE AND CLEAN THESE FUCKING WRAPPERS!" she yelled even louder, y/n was a clean freak. every time there's a mess, she gets anxious, when it's someone else's mess in her space, she gets angry.

''okay okay.." he mumbled, he walked into her room and laid eyes on her neck. she was wearing the necklace he bought her. "you got a boyfriend or something? what's with the ugly necklace." he gets on his knees and picks up each individual candy wrapper.

"one, it's not ugly. two, everyone forgot my birthday and this person bought me this necklace. in our dor- did you hear anyone come in?" y/n looks at ethan, "yeah." she furrows her eyebrows, "and you didn't do anything?!" ethan chuckles, "yup."

she rolls her eyes at his casual response to someone walking into their apartment like they own the place. "god, you're an idiot." ethan gets up with his trash in his hand, "you're one to talk." he walks out, throwing his garbage away.

y/n was going to respond back but her phone buzzed. y/n grabbed it and ethan peeked over her shoulder.

"what the fuck?" ethan spat, if there's a main thing y/n and ethan had in common, is that they both hate harley with a burning passion. ethan looked at y/n, she was clenching her jaw and her eyes were glossy with tears. ethan snatched her phone and opened the replies.

"y/n.." ethan starts, "oh shut the fuck up!" she half yells, she walks fast towards the door and looks for something, or someone. ethan follows quickly, seeing y/n walking up to harley. there was plenty of eye-witnesses around so ethan panics.

y/n turns her around and smacks her across the face, leaving a red mark when harley looks up at her. "you dumb fucking bitch! i'm gonna fuck you up!" she grabs harley by her hair and pulls her towards a wall, she pushes harley into it, making her fall.

everyone surrounds them, shouting "fight!" in a chant. harley tries to get up but y/n knees her in her mouth. y/n straddles her and punches her repeatedly until her nose bleeds. she gets off of harley and watches as harley's mascara smudges, her blood dripping down her nose, her hair messed up.

she made sure anyone who even mentions her mother in a bad would regret it severely. for good measure y/n kicks her side slightly and scoffs. she walks away from the crowd and walks towards her dorm. ethan follows, slightly shocked. "what the fuck was that?" he asks, she doesn't respond.

"you might get expelled for that!" y/n stops walking and turns towards him, "why do you care? one less problem, huh?" he rolls his eyes, "who else am i going to torture without feeling bad about it?" se stares at him for a while, she walks closer to him. "find someone else." she looks him up and down and walks back to their dorm.

not this being kind of a filler thing- and i have no idea how to write fight scenes. btw i meant to write "wtf? that's messed up harley." not quinn-

taglist (open) : @hearts4mitski4 ; @athenalive ; @fangirlisms13 ; @aesthetixhoe ; @maybankfr

previous / masterlist / next

#enemies to lovers #ethan landry #jack champion #jack champion x reader #scream fanfic #scream imagine #scream x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x reader #scream 2023 #the enemy series #enemies to friends to lovers

[brookebeamsbig]

💭 poison ivy #13

for its first issue as an OFFICIAL ongoing series, this book had a cover that bamboozled us. but honestly, I'm not mad about it.

ivy's back in gotham, a new situation for her within this series. I think we were all a little curious to see how this would go. what would ivy do now? how would her story remain strongly, vehemently HERS?

wilson nestles us back into the gotham setting right away with reacquaintances, reestablishing ivy's place in the batsphere. she's harley quinn's girlfriend, catwoman's friend, batman's rogue. but don't think wilson lets us forget that she's goddamn poison ivy too.

ivy has always had her private paradises. it doesn't take long for her to find another. but this one comes with a twist.

I LOVED killer croc's inclusion. I love rogue interactions because when done well, they're so complex, not to mention entertaining. and I think wilson hit it spot on. I also love how this set ivy up to continue her environmental justice missions.

final thoughts on this issue: wilson hit the ground running with her ongoing status. this issue addressed where ivy's been, where she's at now, and where she's headed. I can't wait to see how this new storyline goes!

additionally, I'm starting to see the strings between the harley quinn and poison ivy ongoings thread together. this soothes my continuity brain, and it shows me that our girls can have strong individual stories with overlap.

finally, shout out to all the artists in this issue. I was worried it would feel a little jumbled when I saw the credits, but it all came together to enhance the issue. each scene's art style heightened its mood and message. amazing work!

#poison ivy #harley quinn #harlivy #dc comics #comics #poison ivy 13 #comics review #spoilers #pamela isley

[libraryofgage]

Life in Miniature (One)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedediah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One (you're here!)

There will be more Jedtavius in the next parts I promise, I just thought this would be a funner introduction to the AU lmao

I just love those little guy dudes from the museum so much hfjdks and now we get two pairs of them

Also, fun fact, I took Steve's Roman name from, like, an actual king of Rome. The actual sixth king. He seemed like a chill dude.

Anyway, there's a meme at the end and as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

---------

When Robin took this job as a night guard, she didn't think the previous guard's words about history coming to life at night was, you know, real. She thought it was a joke, a predictable and corny joke, but a joke nonetheless.

But now, after being chased by a T-Rex, getting saved by Theodore Roosevelt, and almost being taken captive by fucking Attila the Hun, Robin thinks this job definitely isn't worth $16.50 an hour. Then again, this is the best paying job she's had in a while, and she was living a nocturnal life anyway.

Robin groans, leaning against a wall in the diorama exhibit, and slides down to the floor. She lets her head fall back against the wall, her eyes slipping shut as she slides. "This is crazy. This is insane. I need to find a fucking weapon or something," she mutters.

"Pardon me," comes a voice close to her head, "but might you be the goddess Diana?"

As pick-up lines go, it's not the worst one she's heard. And, based on what she knows of Greek and Roman deities, it wouldn't be too far off. Still, she does not want to be hit on by whatever weird historical thing is trying to flirt with her.

Robin takes a deep breath, opens her eyes, and says, "Do I look like a goddess to you?"

She looks to her left where the voice came from, blinking when her gaze falls on a figurine that would barely reach her ankle. He's dressed in a toga with a chest plate, wrist guards, a sword on his waist, and a deep purple cape over his shoulders. His hair is, honestly, the most impressive thing Robin has ever seen, made only more impressive by the golden laurels resting perfectly against his temples.

He's looking at her with wide eyes, more awed than anything else. "Yes," he says. "I have heard the gods are larger than life."

Okay. Fair.

"Why Diana, man?" Robin asks.

He tilts his head, studying her for a moment, looking her up and down. "You give me the same feeling as statues of Noble Diana with her Huntresses," he explains, pausing for a moment before adding, "A feeling of kinship, perhaps?"

Oh. This...this is like ancient Roman gaydar, right? Robin snorts and turns, resting her elbow on her knee. "I'm definitely not Diana. My name is Robin. I'm the new night guard."

His eyes brighten some, his smile growing wider and certainly charming enough to make the hearts of a few girls and guys flutter. "I am Servius Tullius, Sixth King of Rome, son of Vulcan, weapons master of the gods, and adopted son of Jedediah, Cowboy King of the Wild West, and Octavius, general of the Roman army."

Robin nods, letting all of the those words process in her head before saying, "Mind if I call you Steve? You look like a Steve."

The Sixth King of Rome blinks, looking slightly confused before his eyes light up with understanding. "Ah! A nickname! Yes, I am familiar with this concept. You may call me Steve, Lady Robin, as a show of our newfound friendship."

"Yeah, don't call me Lady Robin. Just Robin is fine," she says, hesitating before offering her hand to Steve.

"As you wish, Just Robin," he says, stepping carefully onto her hand and remaining steady as she raises him higher.

Robin blinks, frowning slightly and about to correct him again when she sees his smile and realizes it's a joke. "Okay, very funny, dingus," she says, carefully poking his side.

"Is dingus another nickname? It sounds like an insult."

"It usually is, but it's affectionate when I say it."

"Oh! Yes, like when Ockie calls Jed a philistine."

"Uh, sure," Robin says, nodding once as she lets Steve move to stand on her shoulder. He quickly sits, holding onto the collar of her jacket as she carefully stands up. "Hey, you know what I'm supposed to do about the dinosaur bones?"

"Rexy? Yes, he enjoys a game of fetch."

"Fetch. Of course."

----------

"What's going on in that head of yours, little man?"

Steve blinks, looks over at Jedediah, and raises an eyebrow at him. "I'm taller than you," he says, gesturing to the good inch he has on Jedediah.

"As long as you're my son, you're a little man."

Doing his best to not laugh, Steve nods once and points to the new diorama set up in the middle of the room. It's a circular diorama, centered on an equally circular stage divided into sections. A cacophony of noise echoes from it, clashing as each slice of the stage fights for dominance. "I'm trying to figure out what in Jupiter's name they're doing over there," he says.

"Well, most of it sounds like music," Jedediah says, "I think."

"It's not any music I've heard before," Octavius says, coming to a stop next to Jedediah and frowning at the diorama. "I would have assumed it the unholy shrieking of the damned."

"Perhaps it would be nicer if they weren't all playing at once," Steve suggests, hands on his hips as he tilts his head.

"Oh, boy, there it is," Jedediah says, his grin audible in his tone. "He's got the King Face."

"What are your intentions, my boy?" Octavius asks.

Before Steve can answer, Robin strolls into the room, grinning when she sees the raving diorama in the middle. She walks over to Steve, Jedediah, and Octavius, crouches down, and says, "Hey, guys. I see you're checking out the History of Rock display."

"History of Rock?" Steve asks.

"What in the sweet hell do rocks have to do with that mess?" Jedediah asks, gesturing to the noisy stage.

Robin rolls her eyes. "No, like, rock music. It's a genre. Anyway, it was sponsored by some musician, so it's a permanent display now."

"And they will be...playing every night?" Octavius asks.

"Probably."

Steve frowns a little more and nods, rolling his shoulders back. "If they are a permanent fixture in our hallowed hall, they must be welcomed. As Sixth King of Rome, this duty falls upon my shoulders. Fathers, I shall return shortly."

"Woah, woah, hold your horses there, little man," Jedediah says, moving to stand in front of Steve. "You're not going anywhere near that snake pit without some back up."

"A few centurions, at least," Octavius agrees.

"I will have Robin. What better protection is there?"

Jedediah and Octavius glance at each other before looking at Robin. She grins and offers them a two finger salute. "I'll guard him with my life," she says, "It's literally my job."

With that reassurance, Jedediah and Octavius move out of the way. Steve steps onto Robin's hand and settles on her shoulder with practiced ease, ignoring the nervous flutter in his stomach at greeting the new museum residents. He hopes they'll get along, but he also knows the might of his Roman army and the railroad workers can crush any who stand in their way.

Robin stops next to the diorama, tilting her head as she studies it. This close, Steve can see the bands playing on each slice of stage, the instruments and fashion shifting as his gaze travels around it. "Uh, excuse me," Robin says, raising her voice.

The raucous noise from the diorama screeches to a halt, the feedback making Robin and Steve grimace slightly. "Uh, hi. We're the official welcome crew for the Hall of Miniatures here. So, I'll need someone to represent your, like, whole display," Robin says, glancing over the bands until she finds one she recognizes. "Okay, I know you guys, so I'll be designating you the spokesband. Now, could the lead singer step forward?"

Steve watches as someone on the "Corroded Coffin" (what an odd name for a band) slice of the stage steps forward. Robin offers her hand to them, carefully lifting it away once they step on. "Great, uh, carry on, I guess. But, like, maybe play some of your quieter stuff for a bit," she says, her words barely out before the music starts up and the crowds start screaming once more.

She sighs and just walks over to the bench, letting off the person on her hand before letting Steve slide down her arm in a move they spent nearly three weeks practicing if only because they knew it would look cool.

When he hops onto the bench, Steve walks up to the other miniature, a man his age with long hair and odd clothes with tears that Robin once said were fashionable. His instrument is still slung over his shoulders, resting casually against his hips much like Steve's sword. Steve suddenly finds himself thinking that the man looks a little like a warrior. An odd one, to be sure, but a handsome one nonetheless.

He flashes his most charming smile, lets his shoulders relax, and says, "My friend here is Robin, Guardian of Brooklyn. I am Servius Tullius, Sixth King of Rome, son of Vulcan, weapons master of the gods, and adopted son of Jedediah, Cowboy King of the Wild West, and Octavius, general of the Roman army. You, however, may call me Steve."

-----

As far as Eddie was concerned, nothing mattered so long as Corroded Coffin got to keep rocking in an endless concert. The energy never waned, the set list never grew boring, and the music never stopped. He was ready to inform this welcoming crew of just that and promise Hell on Earth if they tried to disrupt the music (angry concert goers are a force of nature), when the words just died in his throat.

Because the most gorgeous man he's ever seen slides down that giant lady's arm, easily and smoothly landing on the bench. Somehow, his hair is perfectly windswept, the golden laurels glinting in the lights above them. His purple cape flutters softly as he walks closer, his toned thighs on full display with the toga hem that falls to the middle of them. There's a sword on the guy's hip, a chest plate that Eddie wants to pull off, a smile he wants to taste, and a pair of freckles right next to each other on the guy's cheek he wants to drag his tongue across.

He misses most of the introduction because he's too busy staring. He gets the important bits, though: Robin, a king, son of a god, adopted son of two dads. Eddie licks his lips nervously, a grin of his own tugging at his lips as he steps forward and playfully bows. "It's an honor to meet you, Your Majesty," he says.

It's supposed to come out joking, a little poke at the guy's authority to see if he can be riled up. It actually comes out way too genuine, and Eddie has a sudden realization that he meant it. He absolutely will accept this guy as his king, actually. He'll fall to his knees before him right now if asked, and not just because it might give him a little peek under the dude's toga.

"Please, just call me Steve. There's no need to be so formal."

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek, hoping Steve doesn't realize that the things Eddie is thinking about (the things he wants to do to and with Steve) are just about the least formal things on this earth. "Good to know," he says, relieved his voice sounds normal as he stands up straight and offers his hand. "Name's Eddie Munson, uh, lead singer of Corroded Coffin."

Steve blinks, and his smile becomes a bit more genuine as he steps closer and clasps Eddie's forearm. "A fellow leader," he says, squeezing Eddie's arm. "Welcome to our museum."

"Y-yeah," Eddie says, his arm still tingling when Steve lets go. He clears his throat, idly tugging on a few strands of hair. "So, uh, what's the deal around here? I mean, giant women...Roman kings...cowboys, it looks like."

"Our noble museum is home to Pharoah Ahkmenrah and his tablet, which brings the exhibits to life each night," Steve explains.

"There's a few rules, though," Robin says, sitting down on the bench behind Steve. "One, no getting into fights. Two, be back in your display by sunrise. Three, no leaving the museum at night."

"What? Why not?"

"We have lost good exhibits to Sol Invictus's morning rays," Steve says, frowning slightly. "So, be careful."

Eddie stares at Steve with wide eyes as he nods, amazed at the fact that Steve seems to talk like that so genuinely. And the fact that Eddie is...kinda into it. Holy shit, that's not helping with Eddie's whole "fall to his knees" thing. He wouldn't mind some good old-fashioned worship if Steve would just smile at him again.

Maybe his prayers are heard, because Steve smiles at him again. "Wonderful," he says. "Now, Eddie, could I interest you in a tour of the museum tonight?"

"Oh, you could interest me in a lot of things, sweetheart," Eddie blurts out, his mouth running faster than his brain.

He snaps his jaw shut, relieved and horrified at Steve's slightly confused expression and Robin's "I know what you are" thousand-yard stare from over his shoulder. Before he can try to backtrack, Steve snaps, understanding in his eyes. "Ah! Sweetheart is a nickname, yes? I accept your offer of friendship."

Eddie clenches his jaw, stopping himself from saying that it's more than friendships he's offering, and smiles. "Yeah. A nickname. That's all. I'm just...a nickname kinda guy. I'll probably think of more, too, Stevie. Like that."

Steve practically beams, and Eddie feels his knees go weak. "I look forward to it," he says, turning on his heel to look at Robin, who thankfully schools her expression. "Robin, this is where we leave you for the night. You have my word that Eddie will be back in place before sunrise."

"Well, you two kids have fun," she says, grinning in a way that immediately puts Eddie on edge. "I'd better not hear about any funny business, though. Absolutely no bases should be reached tonight, and you'd better not do any conquering or pillaging."

She definitely looks at Eddie when she says that last bit. Eddie stiffens, doing his best to hold back a blush when Steve glances over at his, the confusion clear on his face. "Conquering requires more planning than this, Robin. I've told you before."

"Don't worry about it, dingus. Just have fun. Here, I'll even call a ride for you," she says, winking at them before turning, holding her fingers to her mouth, and whistling sharply.

Steve walks over to Eddie right as the ground starts to shake, easily catching him around the waist before he can lose his balance. "The shaking does take some getting used to," he says, his tone full of sympathy and obliviousness to the crisis Eddie is experiencing.

When his brain finally catches up enough to ask what he's talking about, a dinosaur skeleton slides into the room, its body wiggling excitedly as it growls. Eddie jerks back, the arm around his waist tightening some. "What the fuck?!" he shouts.

"Worry not," Steve says, leaning closer. His voice is a little softer now, his breath fanning over Eddie's ear. "This is Rexy, our steed for the evening. He's very friendly."

"Friendly," Eddie mumbles, letting himself be dragged over to Rexy and placed on the dinosaur's head by Robin. "The dinosaur is friendly."

"Many of the exhibits are," Steve tells him, grinning brightly as Rexy begins moving after a pet on the snout from Robin.

Eddie looks at him, feeling blinded by Steve's smile once more, and completely forgets about the living dinosaur skeleton.

--------

Lemme know if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

(Also I know there are like one or two upcoming parent AUs that people have asked to be tagged in and I tried to see if this was one of them but couldn't find anyone for the life of me hfjdks so I'm sorry if you asked on another post and I missed you orz)

And, finally, a meme for you

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #Mini Steddie #the tag for this series #steve deserves good parents actually #night at the museum #natm crossover #natm jedediah #natm octavius #jedtavius #the worship kink was a surprise to me too actually #and then i realized it was v on brand #have fun guys #there ought to be shenanigans aplenty

[queer-media-tourney]

Here are the match ups for round 1:

Rent vs Orphan Black

Heartstopper vs Orange is the New Black

Carol (2015) vs Bugsnax

The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern vs Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Fienburg

Red, White and Royal Blue vs This is how you lose the time war by Amar el-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

Our Flag means Death vs Always human by Ari North

The last of us two vs On a Sunbeam by Tillie Walden

Heartbreak High vs Shameless

Undertale vs The Handmaiden

Young Royals vs Revolutionary Girl Utena

Sens8 vs Carry on by Rainbow Rowell

Bee and puppycat vs The Rocky Horror Picture Show

Yuri on Ice vs Ranma ½

Q-force vs Feel Good

Torchwood vs The interview with a Vampire (2022)

Homestuck vs Good Omens

Some like it hot vs Killing Eve

Scott Pilgrim Takes Off vs Bound (1996)

It's a sin vs Magnus Chase by Rick Riordan

Doctor Who vs Portrait of a young lady on fire

Steven Universe vs Saltburn

Xena Warrior Princess vs Cyberpunk 2077

Welcome to Nightvale vs Schitt's creek

Night in the woods vs A league Of their own

Lisa Frankenstein vs The boys in the band (1970)

Black Sails vs Owl House

Hannibal vs The Traitor Baru Cormorant

Bottoms vs The Locked Tomb series by Tamsyn Muir

The picture of Dorian Grey vs Adventure time

The Sandman (comic) vs Supernatural

Maurice (1987) vs Hazbin Hotel

Nimona vs Love Simon

Epithet Erased vs What we do in the shadows

Buffy the Vampire Slayer vs The Other Two

One Day at a time (2017) vs Falsettos

She-ra and the princesses of power vs Dykes to Watch Out for

Celluloid Closet vs Harley Quinn

But I'm a cheerleader vs Vida

Angels In America vs Glee

Hooky by Míriam Bonastre Tur vs They both die in the end by Adam Silvera

[britcision]

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

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

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

(Jason is thrilled, believe me)

First Chapter:

Previous Chapter:

———————

Yeah This Might As Well Happen

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

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

Not until Danny came back.

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

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

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

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

Finally, finally, Danny’s aura shifted again.

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

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

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

Well.

Affection-amused-teasing.

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

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

Whatever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jason shrugged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jason raised both hands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know Batman?” He asked incredulously.

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

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

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

“Yeah… sorry.”

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

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

There was a reason Jason loved her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Both of Harley’s brows went up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And ghosts, now.

Harley gave him a nod anyway and patted his hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘DannyP: who tf is Constantine??👀👀🤣’

**

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

He fucking hated magic.

So. Analysis.

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

Did Bruce count as a malicious force?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

Shit, John didn’t like thinking about it.

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

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

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

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

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

“Amity Park.”

Fuck.

**

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

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

That there might be one.

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

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

“I’ll see you in an hour.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes.

Perhaps he could bait that tendency by being innocuous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His opponent was a cunning one.

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

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

No.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bruce nearly crashed the car.

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

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

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

And shrugged, like it was nothing.

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

Add mind reading to the list of suspected powers.

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

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

Danny snorted like he’d told a joke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**

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

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

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

‘JTodd: Yeah Dickie comes by it honestly.’

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

‘DannyP: 👀👀 think he’s mad at me’

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

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

‘DannyP: Imma make it worse 😈😈’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Checked his phone.

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

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

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

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

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

He felt surprised too though. Surprised and suspicious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Feeling suspicious. Sounding worried.

“Danny?”

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

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

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

‘JTodd: Sorry. Probably my fault.’

Well that was bullshit.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, well, don’t go throwing a public party to all of high society about it. Trust me, I do not need a second creepy billionaire trying to make me a show pony.”

Another block of silence, but Danny was satisfied that this one was at least less certain. Felt like a big decision was afoot.

Finally Bruce sighed and deflated, and for once his aura matched the gesture.

“It was a mistake, wasn’t it?” It almost wasn’t a question. Danny figured that progress deserved a reward anyway. Kinda.

“Well again, Harley Quinn came back from the Amazon to kick your ass about it, so yes. I think we can both agree that was a bad life choice.”

Bruce’s grip tensed on the steering wheel a little and Danny relented. Fuck him for being a softie.

Even when he was also still kinda pissed, it was hard to ignore the sudden doubt, fear, guilt suddenly stinking up the car.

The anger, much more familiar. Danny knew exactly what to do about angry people, but Bruce’s anger felt a little too familiar. A little too internal-only.

“He said you’d never told him you were sorry before, man. Not even once until you shoved him right into the spotlight. What does it say that you can say it to me but not him?” He asked softly.

Bruce was quiet for most of the rest of the drive, but since he actually seemed to be thinking about what Danny had said, Danny left him to it.

It was as they were finally pulling up to the gates of Wayne Manor that he spoke again.

“I may not have been much of a father to Jason, but I won’t see him hurt again. Not if I can help it.” There wasn’t actually any menace in the tone.

Just a stone cold certainty that was way, way scarier.

Well. Probably for anyone who wasn’t the actual ghost king. Or just uncontrollably sarcastic.

Danny grinned.

“Well if this is gonna be your shovel talk, you should be aware that I’ve already been six feet under. It takes a lot to scare me,” he teased, resting his bare feet on the console in front of him.

Outside, the gate swung slowly open. Bruce took advantage of the pause to stare directly at him again, those blue eyes suddenly piercing and not even trying to hide the intelligence within.

“Noted.”

And okay. Maybe Danny needed to invest in some more one liners, cuz that was way fucking cooler than any complicated threat or pun.

Kinda hated how cool it was, actually.

He let just a little of the eldritch creep into the smile he gave back.

“Oh, and Bruce? Samesies. Seems like Jason has a lot more people who have his back than he thinks he does, but now? He’s also got me. And Harley’s probably the nice one.”

If the guy was going to think the fucking worst of Danny no matter what, might as well use that to try and make him be a less shitty dad.

Shovel talking the Ghost King? That took some balls.

Bruce didn’t seem to be noticeably intimidated though. Just stared at Danny for a long moment, eyes narrowed, before he nodded again.

“You don’t know Harley well,” he remarked dryly, heading on up the ridiculously long driveway to the house.

Danny didn’t actually manage to pull all the way back into human tones before he laughed, the shadows stretching and creaking around the sound.

“Yeah, fair point.” He sure as shit wouldn’t argue it where she could hear him after all.

**

It took Steph to finally bring the conversation back around to the thermos.

They’d moved on to telling Harley the actual details of what had happened at the gala, from Bruce’s crimes to Sam and Danny’s.

Harley was absolutely delighted by the whole story, and it was Steph who gave Sam a gentle nudge, grinning at her.

“Y’know, I never got around to asking why you even had that giant thermos. I was with you most of the night and I never saw you drinking from it?” She asked.

Sam chuckled softly, reaching into the deep pocket of Cass’s pants and pulling out the thermos in question. She always had one on her.

Tucker was supposed to as well, but if he knew she was gonna be there? Yeah, he tended to forget. Or save the space for something more interesting.

“Oh, this? Yeah this really isn’t a drinking thermos,” she explained, setting it on the table and sharing an amused glance with Tucker.

Maybe side eying Jason. It was gonna be a drinking thermos for him, poor bastard.

Steph’s eyebrows rose and she reached out, taking the thermos when Sam nodded her assent. Turning it over in her hands.

“Wait, so it’s strictly a combat thermos?” She asked like it was a joke, grinning at Sam as she unscrewed the lid.

Tucker stifled a laugh from across the table and Sam grinned back, leaning back in her chair. The table had been cleared of dinner by now, but dessert they’d wait on Bruce and Danny for.

Speaking of Danny…

“Actually, yeah. The Fenton Thermos is pretty much our best tool for the rogue attacks we get in Amity Park,” she explained with a modest shrug.

Steph looked even more surprised, hefting the unexpected weight of what looked like an empty thermos.

“It made a pretty good throwing weapon,” Dick offered from the end of the table. Tucker snickered and shook his head, holding out a hand to Steph.

“It’s not actually meant to be for throwing, but that definitely worked,” he agreed, gesturing for the thermos.

Turning it to show the table, Tucker pointed to the big green button on the side. The big, obvious green button that you could pretty easily press by accident.

“You can capture ghosts with it once they’ve been weakened, and then Danny lets them out back in the Ghost Zone. It doesn’t actually hurt them, but apparently it’s not comfortable.”

“How do you know, if it only catches ghosts?” Duke asked, a slight frown on his face and he leaned forward to see around Tim.

Tucker shot him a smug grin, twirling the thermos and passing it back to Sam. Clearly enjoying his time in the spotlight, and Sam wouldn’t begrudge him that.

Not when she could bully him about showing off for his new boyfriend later. It was kinda cute watching that hero worship turning into an actual proper crush.

Cuter that Tim was being just an average guy, and Tucker was still losing his shit over it. Sweet revenge for all those times the boys teased her about her crush on Val.

“Well, for one thing pretty much all of our ghosts have stopped trying to attack these days, and some of them are actually pretty chill? Buuuut you can also use it to catch half ghosts,” Tucker explained with a smug grin.

Sam chuckled, taking the cap back from Steph and screwing it back on.

“Danny says it’s like being squished into a really tight sleeping bag. Worse if someone else is in there with him, but they can’t really move or fight in there.”

“If someone’s been a real pain in the ass sometimes Danny keeps them in Soup Time for a week or so as punishment,” Tucker added, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms behind his head.

“Isn’t that unethical?” Dick asked, down beside Damian, and Sam raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, do the people you arrest only get locked up for a day or so?” She asked dryly and Dick grinned, raising both hands.

“They don’t get locked in really tight sleeping bags. But what happens after they’re let out? They just go back in the Ghost Zone?” He prodded, not quelled by her stare this time.

Good. More fun when people fought back. And, for a cop, Dick wasn’t really all that bad.

He’d probably get fired for that pretty soon.

Sam shrugged, taking over the explanation for now and tucking the thermos back into her pocket.

“Pretty much. Most of the ghosts pretty much just showed up to fight Phantom and the trouble they caused around town was part of that.”

“Phantom being Danny’s superhero name?” Tim asked, looking extremely covetously at where the thermos had disappeared under the table.

Sam stuck her hand in the top of the pocket, keeping it on the lid of the thermos. They didn’t exactly have enough to spare.

Of course Tucker swept in when his boytoy had a question.

“Yeah, that’s him. The town used to call him Inviso-Bill until he actually told someone to call him Phantom instead,” he added, snickering.

Sam couldn’t resist chuckling along; honestly, if she ever learned who’d started that nickname she’d send them flowers. It was fucking priceless.

“Yeah. There were some rowdier ghosts, usually when their Obsessions got triggered, but honestly? Once they were beaten most of them settled down. It was just the ones that wanted to brawl with Danny that kept coming back.”

“We didn’t really have anything else to do with them either,” Tucker pointed out with a snicker, shaking his head, “it was Soup Time, back home, or the Fenton family dissection table.”

Their hosts looked suitably disturbed at that, Harley leaning in from her end of the table to be the voice of the room.

“The Fenton family what the fuck? Didn’t ya say the kid was a Fenton?” She asked sharply.

Sam ran a quick mental check of the list Danny had cleared them to talk about. Yeah, the Fenton parents were on it.

Just not the Ghost King stuff, anything about Jason, and anything specific about Ellie. No worries there.

She shrugged again, fingers tapping on the table. From her guess and Jason’s texting, Danny should be back soon.

“The Fenton parents were the ones who made a portal to the Ghost Zone in the first place. They were really interested in dissecting and studying any ghosts they could catch for a long time,” she explained dryly, not bothering to hide her feelings on the matter.

Duke looked a little sick. Maybe she should tone it down some, for the young and innocent among them.

“But that’d include Danny,” Dick pointed out, suspicion rising towards horror.

Sam fixed her gaze on him, not letting him look away.

“Yeah. It did. Which is why the three of us spent our high school years fighting ghosts and protecting the town in secret, cuz if we told anyone we thought Danny would go on the table.”

“They totally took it way better than we thought though,” Tucker tacked on quickly, searching something up on his PDA, probably for pictures of the GAV. “They’re Phantom’s biggest fans now.”

He tilted the screen to show Tim, whose jaw dropped.

Yeah, to be fair, words didn’t do the GAV’s new paint job justice. Tucker passed the tablet on to Tim to show Duke and Harley, and it made its way around the table.

They were probably running out of time.

Sam leaned in, catching the attention of the rest of the table and making eye contact with most of them.

“Some basic etiquette though, before Danny gets back? You never, ever ask a ghost how they died. They might bring it up, but you don’t ask. Okay?”

“Wait, why not?” Tim asked, his brows furrowing as he turned back to her. “Isn’t that the first thing they do in all those ghost hunting shows?”

Which. Well. Sam had a whole special rant about ghost hunting shows and their bullshit, but before she got started Jason cut her off.

“Cuz dying fucking sucks, Timmy. Do you wanna bug Steph or Dick about the times they died?” He asked pointedly, and Tim flushed.

Yeah, that kinda explained the death taint Sam could just about taste from half the table. She wasn’t going to mention it, because she had some damn manners.

Tim seemed to have gotten the point though, stammering a quick apology and sinking back into his seat. Tucker gave him a conciliatory pat on the shoulder.

“Pretty much the first thing you gotta learn about real ghosts is that ghost hunters have no idea what they’re doing. They don’t even ecto infuse their tech,” he added with a derisive snort.

Sam rolled her eyes, stifling a grin. Alfred had disappeared, which probably meant Danny was imminent.

“Harder to do without a ghost or half ghost on your team, Tuck. But more to the point, do you guys wanna see the Fenton Thermos in action?” She asked innocently, pulling it back out of her pocket to wiggle.

Once again, Harley spoke for the table.

“Hell yeah. Are ya gonna throw it at Brucie again too?” She asked brightly, and Sam paused, considering.

Finally sighed and shook her head.

“Probably not. I’ll let you handle him,” she decided, smirking as Harley reached back down for her trusty bedazzled bat.

“That’s what the ol’ Therapy Bat’s for,” Harley agreed brightly, getting to her feet. She’d clearly clocked Alfred’s exit too. And the approaching sets of footsteps.

Sam grinned and readied the thermos.

**

Bruce had almost forgotten that Harley would be waiting until Danny reminded him. An unusual lapse for him, but he had a lot on his mind.

The only thing he wanted to do was get down to the cave and talk to Constantine; to finally get some answers, both on what had gone wrong in Amity Park and precisely what was keeping them out now.

He had the very tiniest bit of hope that one question might also hold the answer to the other; that it was perhaps something Constantine had done, or could undo.

He did not like having to rely on biased secondary sources for data. It was frustrating to run into so many dead ends.

Luckily for him though, Danny had reminded him, which meant he could take Harley aside, find out what she wanted, and get it dealt with instead of going straight to the cave and being surprised.

As little as he liked John Constantine, he wouldn’t subject the man to Harley if he could help it. Harley was something of a kryptonite to many of the magicians; she broke their rules in ways they couldn’t reconcile.

Bruce absolutely did not doubt Zatanna that Harley had temporarily sold herself to a demon prince and within 24 hours annoyed him so much that he gave her back, deal intact.

She was a force to be reckoned with. And privately… Bruce would hang up the cowl if Constantine decided he wanted to give her methods a try on top of his own.

No. Best keep them as far away from each other as possible.

So he was accompanying Danny and Alfred to the family dining room, where he’d collect Harley and take her to his office.

Half an hour to get through whatever she wanted, and then he could go down and talk to Constantine. The perfect plan.

Part of him hoped that Danny had been right, and she was here to explain what he’d done wrong with Jason.

Bruce would be the first to admit that he just… couldn’t seem to do right when it came to his second son.

He loved Jason dearly, but his death was something Bruce had never gotten over. He’d seen Jason so many times, as he died and as Bruce imagined he’d have grown over those years.

It had been hard for him to believe Jason really was himself, even if he looked nothing like Bruce had always expected. He’d always been so small.

No. He’d refused to believe it. Refused to believe the kind, loving boy he’d known could have become this large and angry killer.

It had coloured their relationship ever since. The things Jason had done, the things Bruce had done to stop him.

The fury with which Jason had forced his real identity down Bruce’s throat until he couldn’t deny it anymore. The one person he thought he could never let down again.

Jason was calmer now. Had a lid on the rage, and just plain walked away when he was on the edge of his control. Bruce admired that, as much as he could.

The only thing Bruce knew how to do with his emotions was push them aside and try to keep soldiering on, and it had cost his family so many times.

He’d thought he was getting better, but when it came to Jason… Bruce knew he still wasn’t thinking clearly. He’d upset Jason at the gala, he knew he had.

He’d seen it in his face, even if Jason had covered it before reaching the stage. He just wasn’t sure how.

Bruce prided himself on his ability to read faces. He was certainly no Cass, but it was his most used skill. Jason’s had never been a mystery to him before.

But somehow all Bruce could see in the older Jason’s face was the shadows of the bruises, the beating that face had worn the last time Bruce held him in his arms.

Cold. Lifeless. A death mask that only ever seemed to clear under Lazarus green rage.

He didn’t know when his baby boy had become so unreadable to him. What part of the horrors which Jason had lived through had made him put on a mask so thick Bruce couldn’t see through it.

And he was afraid to ask. Afraid of what he might see under that mask, and afraid to hear everything Jason had been put through because of Bruce’s failure.

He could have asked Danny in the car. At least where he’d gone wrong last night. They’d been alone, without anyone to overhear. And yet…

Bruce couldn’t bring himself to trust Danny. Oddly he found himself liking the boy more since Danny had threatened him, but his doubts remained.

Vlad had been personable, charming, and open during their meal together, and Bruce knew all too well how vile men could put on a front like that.

Normally he would have trusted Danny’s impression of Vlad over his own implicitly; it was part of the reason he brought his children to galas.

Brucie Wayne was too well known, too powerful, too influential. No one wanted to show him anything but their best, the sides they thought he would like to see.

The truest measure of a person came in the way they treated those they saw as beneath them, and for most adults that would automatically always include children.

Danny’s words tracked with the odd moments of quiet regret in Masters’ face when he talked about his godson. Far more egregious than the “misunderstandings” he’d hinted at, but a testament nonetheless.

There had been no trace of a lie in Danny’s voice or face. And yet.

There was no fear either. Not a trace of concern at being alone in the room together before Bruce returned.

None of the wariness one would naturally expect when a young man faced a much older adult who had at the very least made serious threats towards his family and possibly psychologically abused him.

It didn’t make sense. There was no right or wrong way to respond to an abuser, but Danny’s open antagonism of Vlad pointed at something else. A piece Bruce was still missing of what passed between them.

There were too many unanswered questions about Danny Fenton, and the situation with Jason was too delicate to rely on a single unknown factor.

No.

Danny may take advantage of any perceived weakness to steer him wrong, push him to another mistake, widen the rift between Bruce and his son.

It wasn’t safe. Wasn’t the plan.

For all that she’d been a rogue, Bruce trusted Harley implicitly… at least in matters of the heart. On the off chance she was there for anything else, he could still ask her before she left.

Maybe after he was done with Constantine.

Of course no one was around to give him answers when he had plenty of spare time on his hands. No, they had to come all at once.

Fine.

He may have to leave Jason with Danny for now, but they would hardly be unsupervised. The others would keep a watch for him while he got answers.

Bruce was actually beginning to feel pretty good about the evening by the time they reached the dining room.

And then the door opened, Danny walked through, and vanish in a blur of bright blue light.

Bruce threw up a hand to shield his eyes as light flashed across him, and it went dark a moment later.

Sam Manson was holding the thermos again (his head throbbed a warning), screwing the lid back on with a satisfied smirk.

Danny Fenton was gone. Just gone. Like he’d never been there, until.

“I fucking hate you so much.”

That was Danny’s voice, no doubt about it, coming from… the thermos.

What.

As Steph would say.

The fuck.

**

Harley was the first to recover her voice, throwing both hands into the air and whooping.

“Now THAT is what I call a party trick! You kids ever wanna come out Coney Island way ya can stay with me an’ take a turn at th’ Freakshow if ya want!”

The room froze, temperature actually plummeting as the Amity Parkers both flinched.

(Danny mighta also flinched but he was in a soup thermos, it was harder to tell.)

Tucker spoke up, making a face and exchanging a look with Sam.

“Uh… pass, thanks. Had some pretty bad experiences with clowns and circuses,” he explained, and Harley nodded understandingly.

No matter how much he liked to pretend he was, Joker was hardly the first asshole to wear the face paint.

It was why she didn’t wear hers if she was gonna be anywhere around Jason.

Not like she’d liked the full face stuff Joker did anyway. She could have a lot more fun with eyeshadow and a little lipstick, but some people needed to be terrified.

Harley Quinn’s war paint was satisfyingly terrifying enough that she’d pull it out for special occasions.

“Yeah, that’s fair,” she agreed easily, noted the air began to warm.

So it was one of them doing it. And from the way the two she could see relaxed just after, she’d put her money on Danny. Made sense with the ghost thing.

Anyway, she’d come here for a reason. Strolling casually over towards Brucie, she ruffled a hand through Jason’s and then Sam’s hair.

“Yer all still welcome to come visit though, just call ahead an’ I’ll tell the crew to put the theatrics on hold. I got a whole floor full of puppies and kittens that need some love,” she told them cheerfully.

And paused at a sudden horrible ripping sound, like part of the universe had been velcro and just pulled itself apart.

A glowing green hole opened just behind Sam’s chair and Danny’s head poked through, just a little below Harley’s height.

“You have a fucking what?”

She ruffled his hair too, grinning.

“Yeah, building I inherited had a free floor my aunt used ta rent, I didn’t want anyone upsettin’ my crew and all these lil cuties were just wasting away at the pound so Ivy did me up an indoor park. There’s about thirty of ‘em,” she explained brightly.

Sam snickered, settling comfortably in her turned chair.

“Bet cleaning up after that many is a treat,” she commented dryly and Harley tipped her a wink.

“It’s no trouble! I do the scoopin’ and once a week we load the big bags up on th’ roof catapult and shoot ‘em into the city. At the mayor’s house if he’s bein’ trouble.”

“Harley, I have a theory about who might want you gone,” Duke put in from the other end of the table, all dry sarcasm.

Harley laughed and blew him a kiss, giving her bat a lazy twirl.

“Hey, if he wants me ta stop all he’s gotta do is stop bein’ a pain in my ass an’ I’ll shoot ‘em at the dump,” she told him cheerfully, then turned back to Danny.

Back in the black hair. Didn’t seem like it mattered if he was actively a ghost or not gettin’ sucked inta the thermos. Interesting.

“You need a tow out?” She asked, other hand dropping back to his hair to give a gentle tug.

Danny gave her a slightly suspicious look.

“Do you promise no mind control or creepy clown shit?” He asked warily, and Harley loosed her grip to pat him on the cheek.

“Pinky promise, suga. I’m about to go give Brucie ‘is own private dose of scary clown shit that I’m sure he’ll completely understand that he wants to be in private,” she added more pointedly, giving Bruce a sharp look over her shoulder.

Behind her, Danny shrugged and pulled the rest of his body through the green rip, giving Sam a smack upside the head as his feet touched the floor and snatching the thermos from her.

“Confiscated til you’ll only use it’s power responsibly,” he told her, sticking his tongue out and dropping down into his seat, thermos held preventatively back and over his head.

Which made it all too easy for Jason to reach up and grab it from him, tucking it into the front of his hoodie pocket when Danny whipped around indignantly.

“You’re not responsible either,” Jason pointed out smugly and Danny sputtered but didn’t quite find words to argue.

They were fucking adorable.

If she didn’t have ta go try and beat the sense back inta Brucie’s head she’d have the time of her life just pinching their cheeks and winding them up about what to her studied eye was a pair of oblivious fresh forming crushes.

Young love was just the cutest when it was in that awkward blushy denial phase.

Yeah, Brucie was getting an extra whap for tearing her away from that.

Turning back to the big man, she prodded her bat into the center of his chest.

“So! Whaddaya think, big guy? Wanna give a nice big public apology for ya fuck up or shall we go talk somewhere in private?” She asked firmly, emphasizing those last words into a threat.

Bruce’s attention snapped away from glaring at Danny and Jason to fix on her, clearly analyzing her words. Of all the hopeless little shits…

She was gonna find someone to get him his proper diagnosis. Had to at this point.

Couldn’t be her, she was technically a conflict of interest, but holy fuck the man screamed emotional disregulation with a hefty side of autism spectrum.

At least he’d know what direction he needed help in, as if he wouldn’t promptly ignore any advice that included “talk about ya damn feelings”. Too bad for him.

She gave him another firm poke with the bat and he nodded sharply, gaze snapping from her around to the door.

His shoulders settled just a little, posture relaxing in what she knew was relief as he motioned for her to follow. Still looked tense as hell, but she’d probably only get a dime back for bouncing a nickel off him now.

That was real relaxed for Brucie.

Maybe he was finally self aware enough to accept that he needed some help with all the emotional stuff.

Good. Maybe she’d only do one kneecap.

**

As Harley followed Bruce out of the room, Sam’s phone began buzzing dramatically in her pocket. Abandoning her quest for the thermos, she pulled it out and glanced down.

Grinned wickedly. She’d been expecting this for a while now actually.

“Aw, look, my parents saw our selfies on Twitter,” she cooed sarcastically, Manson Party Voice making a brief return.

Danny scooted just a little away from the still buzzing phone.

“So are you gonna get that?” He asked as Alfred brought him a perfectly reheated plate. “What? Oh, thanks.”

Sam shrugged, hit speakerphone, and set it on the table. They’d posted those pictures pretty much solely for the incoming reaction.

“Hey mom, what’s up?” She said sweetly, still in her public facing voice.

Her mother did not sound nearly as composed.

“SAMANTHA. Where ARE you?! What are you wearing?! Where are your clothes and WHY, in the name of all that’s good, are you anywhere near HARLEY QUINN?! Have you been kidnapped?!”

Sam rolled her eyes hard enough that Tucker faked a fatal injury across the table. She flipped him off as Tim and Duke stifled laughs.

“Yes, mother, I have been kidnapped and just answered my phone completely normally. I’m at the Waynes’,” she added quickly, before her mother could jump to conclusions.

And gave her some new conclusions to jump to instead, but who cared. Still, something seemed to be sticking in her mom’s mind.

“With Harley Quinn?” She asked suspiciously after a moment’s silence.

Which, to be fair, was kind of a good point.

“Apparently she’s a family friend? Like Grandma and Ivy,” Sam added delicately, a vicious satisfaction rising through her.

She’d gotten to say her piece at the gala yesterday and had thought she was done, but. Well. Years of restriction and so on.

She was definitely still having fun winding her parents up.

Her mom’s sharp intake of breath was clearly audible even over the phone, and then the shouting started again.

“Samantha MANSON do not even THINK about going anywhere with that woman! You have responsibilities! School! Your work! We’re coming to pick you up RIGHT NOW, and… where are your CLOTHES?!”

Alfred cleared his throat from behind them, where he’d stayed from delivering Danny’s dinner. Sam half turned and he raised a brow, inclining his head slightly.

She scooted her chair out of the way to let him get closer to the phone, waving a hand in open invitation.

“If I may interject,” Alfred said calmly, not a trace that anything was even slightly amiss, “the young lady’s clothes are in the dryer at present. They will be finished shortly.”

Another long silence. Her mom probably realizing that Sam had her on speaker. And that she would still be on speaker the next time she spoke.

Finally she choked out a terse, “thank you. I do hope she has been behaving herself. We will be there to pick you up in half an hour, Sammy, and we will Have Words.”

Which Sam kinda doubted, given where the hotel was and how long it had taken Danny and Bruce to get back, but time would tell.

At least they weren’t hiring a helicopter.

It sucked to have to leave, but she’d have needed to head out soon anyway. Her flight back to university would be leaving this evening, and at least this way she could hang out with the others until her parents arrived.

No reason not to needle them more though.

“Aw but mom, I’m having such a good time hanging out with Cass,” she sighed, switching from Party to Heartfelt Woe expertly.

Down beyond Jason, Cass stifled a giggle. It clearly sent Sam’s mom into another spiral of conflicting emotions; delight, hope, ecstasy, and ongoing horror at the presence of Harley.

Who, technically, was no longer present in the room, but telling her mom that would only make her feel better, so Sam wasn’t gonna bother.

Honestly, if she wanted to run away and be an ecoterrorist with Pamela Isley, she could just ask Grandma to text her. She didn’t need kidnapping.

Still, apparently the risk of a close contact with Poison Ivy outweighed her mom’s desire to see her cozy up with the Waynes.

It’d have been real sweet if it had been a worry for Sam’s health instead of a worry about what Sam would do to other peoples’ health. The lack of trust stung, truly.

“We’ll be there in half an hour, Sammy. Get your clothes back on and say thank you for having you,” her mom warned, tone sharp and clipped.

And then hung up the phone before anyone could argue, because while she never used to listen to Sam before, she did somehow still know her. Ah well.

Sam sighed, stuffing the phone back into her borrowed pocket.

“Guess my parole has ended. I’ve gotta get back for my next semester anyway, but you have my number?” She asked Steph, looking from her back to Cass.

Both women nodded enthusiastically, Steph sighing and slumping forward into the table.

“Do you really have to go? Harley probably won’t be done with Brucie by then, you’ll miss the best part!”

But in all honesty, Sam wasn’t too upset about that. She’d made her feelings perfectly clear via thermos, and if Jason wasn’t satisfied with Bruce’s real apology she could always come back.

So she shrugged, grinning.

“Guess it’s my turn to get the video recap once it’s all over. You guys’ll film it for me, right?” She asked, looking from Danny to Tucker.

Both of whom gave her a thumbs up.

“We should make a new group chat,” Tucker mused eagerly, already pulling his phone up, “one for all of us.”

“Then we’d know which galas you were coming to!” Steph agreed at once, her own phone magically appearing in hand.

Dick snickered, leaning back in his seat.

“Said like Steph’s ever let Bruce drag her to one against her will,” he teased and Steph flipped him off.

“Hey, if you’d had the good sense not to let him adopt you you wouldn’t have to do them either,” Steph told him primly. Dick rolled his eyes.

“I’m his ward, not adopted,” he argued mostly futilely, and Sam snickered.

“And still have to go apparently. Doesn’t the ward thing end once you’re a legal adult?” She asked innocently.

Dick gave her a deadpan stare.

“Ma’am, if you want to try and wrest an orphan from the hands of Bruce Wayne you be my fucking guest, I gave up years ago.”

Which, fair. Their rifts had been legendary enough to make the circuit. She toasted him with her phone and settled back.

“Point taken. If being a cop didn’t make him give you up nothing will,” she added slyly, and Dick mimed grievous injury, slumping forward onto the table as the others laughed.

Grinning her triumph, Sam turned back to Alfred.

“So if you just show me where the laundry room is I can grab my clothes?” She offered, trying yet again to be helpful.

Being from a rich family didn’t mean having no damn manners, no matter how often it looked like it.

The old man gave her another of his extremely arch expressions, an eyebrow rising as if to question her impertinence. He had to be fucking with her.

“I shall bring your clothes to the downstairs bathroom on this hall when they are done so that you may change, Miss Manson,” he said coolly.

She’d never heard anything like it.

It didn’t sound like he was upset or offended the way people usually did when their voices iced over that sharply. Just… not an ounce of wiggle room.

Not a sliver of a hint that anything he was saying would not happen exactly as he’d decreed it. He sounded more imperious than a king, and she’d seen those.

Sam kinda imagined that’d be what Clockwork would sound like if she ever met the guy.

Duke misinterpreted her decidedly impressed stare with a wry chuckle, apparently misinterpreting her expression.

Fair, since he couldn’t know she was comparing him to the living manifestation of Time.

Well. Ghostly manifestation. Same difference.

“Miss Manson’s probably the best you’ll get out of him,” Duke said almost apologetically, grinning. “It’s gonna be that or Miss Samantha.”

Which admittedly was enough to make her turn to face him, curiosity peaked.

“What do you mean?” She asked, glancing back up at Alfred.

She couldn’t read anything but serenity in his face, but mild amusement practically radiated off him. She’d have to ask Danny what he saw in his aura.

Dick took this one too, sitting back in his seat and grinning at her.

“Alfie’s serious about the whole “proper titles and full names” thing. I’ve been trying for almost twenty years to make him call me “Dick”, and I think he’d be slower to give that up than Bruce’d be to unadopt me,” he explained cheerfully, arm tossed over the back of his chair.

Alfred treated him to a slowly raised eyebrow too.

“As you say, Master Richard,” he agreed placidly and Sam pressed her lips together on a smile.

She didn’t have to turn around to know exactly what face Danny would be making. The last thing he needed was another scary old man full naming him.

And right on cue…

“Uh… can I specifically request Mister Fenton then?” Danny asked and sure enough when she turned, yup, he even had his hand in the air like a child.

Alfred treated him to that calm stare as well.

“May I ask why, Mister Daniel?” He asked, clearly prodding despite every line of both face and posture oozing nothing but polite respect.

Danny fully flinched, which was interesting. He barely reacted whenever Vlad said his name.

Sam adjusted her opinion of Alfred along a couple “scarier than Vlad” levels.

“I have name-related trauma from another billionaire who refuses to call me anything but that,” Danny admitted sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It’s a really not-fun association.”

“Vlad again?” Tim asked from across the table, sounding sympathetic.

Danny pulled a face at him, sort of grimacing more than a smile.

“Oh yeah. And let’s just say he also does it in super bad situations, so I’d be happier to just never hear it again.”

Sam peaked back over her shoulder at Alfred, wondering what he’d do with this news.

If Danny was gonna be a fixture in Jason’s life (and let’s be honest, he’d be a fixture in Jason’s bedroom by the end of the month), and Jason was a fixture in Alfred’s… they’d see more of each other.

Everyone knew Bruce had been basically raised by Alfred. If he was half as emotionally constipated…

But there was an actual human expression on the old man’s face now, and it looked a damn sight like shame. He cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him.

“My apologies, Mister Fenton. Would you perhaps prefer Mister Danny?” He asked, which would have seemed completely innocuous on its own.

Dick slammed both fists into the table, making half the table burst into giggles.

“Fucking SERIOUSLY?! Is it just me! This is bullshit Alfie!” He declared dramatically.

Tim looked equally gobsmacked, jaw on the proverbial floor as he stared at Alfred, and even Steph looked put out and impressed.

Danny, deeply confused but relieved, stuck his tongue out at Dick.

“Hey, if you want another overly possessive and creepy billionaire determined to control your life you’re welcome to take him off my hands,” he declared smugly, and Sam snorted a laugh.

There was a decided devilry in young Damian’s face too, which vanished almost immediately after it appeared as the youngest spoke up.

“Honestly, Richard, you must admit that Danny’s situation is decidedly more grave than your own,” he said simply, a strong undercurrent of smugness under the words.

Tim threw both hands into the air so hard he almost tipped his chair over.

“Him too?! Come the fuck ON!” He proclaimed to the world at large as Duke snorted half a glass of water out of his nose in a choked laugh.

Tim gave him a hearty slap on the back that was probably supposed to help, the younger boy still wheezing and gasping for air, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge him.

There was clearly something of an inside joke going on, and it wasn’t exactly a complicated one.

Danny had already settled back in his seat, perfectly happy with the consternation he’d caused, and Sam joined him.

Watching the dramatics of the extended Wayne clan was even better at home than it had been at the gala. For a show this good, she’d have bought tickets.

**

As she closed the office door behind her, Harley took a moment to give Bruce another, slower once over.

It had been a while since she saw him last, and between what Selina had told her and what the kids told her, she wanted a read on his headspace.

He looked… well, like he had a stick up his ass a mile high, but that was pretty much default for him when he wasn’t being Brucie. Never learned how to take a breath, that guy.

But from the way he moved straight to his desk, not even pausing to see if she shut the door before dropping into his seat, she’d put money on “tired”.

Not just regular nightlife tired either, if he showed it this easily. Freshly shaved, dressed immaculately, face done up with minimal but flattering makeup.

He’d put himself together pretty today, but something was cracking underneath.

Once she was satisfied she’d gotten the big picture, she sauntered after him and hopped up to sit on his desk, foot pressed firmly to the middle of his chest to go for the details.

“So, Brucie, do ya know why I’m here?” She asked expectantly. It’d tell her a lot about where they were starting from; it was hard to fool the big bat, and none of ‘em had been trying.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at her foot, but wisely didn’t move to touch it. Clever boy. He might win a physical fight if they got serious, but he also knew she was damn good at what she did.

If they threw down, she wouldn’t be helping him untwist that mess in his head. And he wouldn’t be walking away unscathed either.

No good with some fresh heroes who weren’t in on the Secret around. She could assume he’d made the calculations, but none of them showed. And wouldn’t it be nice if he hadn’t needed to?

Instead he sighed, leaning further back in his chair and rubbing both hands down his face.

Harley adjusted her estimate from “tired” to “fucking exhausted”. Not a good sign.

“I hope it has something to do with Selina texting you last night about the gala,” was all he said though, cryptic fuck.

Harley pushed with her toes just enough to make the chair roll back.

“Specifically, Brucie. If you can tell me what ya did wrong I’ll make it easier on you,” she teased, waving her bat playfully.

Like they didn’t both know the real damage would be with her words. Bruce preferred the bat though. In all ways, which, ha! She could still rock a killer joke.

He gave her one of his grouchy bat glares too, then slumped. Practically pre-broken. Something had to be up.

“I gave a speech. I… apologized to Jason for not being there when he…” he trailed off and Harley nodded, willing to accept that. Hard topics, and not one they’d discuss today.

Not that she wasn’t waiting with baited breath for Bruce to FINALLY decide he wanted to unload some o’ that trauma. But hey, baby steps.

He looked back up a second later, the mask gone as he met her eyes. He looked agonized.

For Bruce, anyway. Perfectly normal to anyone who didn’t really know how he ticked. But those lines around his eyes, the tension in his jaw?

Harley knew. From watching him when he’d thought he’d failed long ago, and from comforting him when one of the kids got hurt more recently.

“He looked like he’d seen a ghost, Harley. I’ve never seen him so shaken.”

Which Harley did have to bite back an entirely inappropriate laugh at. Jason looked preeeeetty happy to be canoodling with an actual ghost in the dining room right now.

She kept it on lock though. Totally professional.

Honestly, she was a little impressed Bruce had noticed. Jason was infamously his blind spot.

Humming softly she nodded slowly, fingers drumming along the shaft of the bat as she regarded him.

“And why do you think he did that, Bruce?” She prodded gently.

She was gonna have a check in with Jason later, not least for all the deets on his adorable new “friend”. Somewhere private, where the others couldn’t see.

But from what she’d seen tonight… Jason looked good. More relaxed, at ease with himself in a way that really tugged at her heart.

She hadn’t seen a lot of Jason since his return; she hadn’t stayed in Gotham long after breaking free of the Joker. But she’d come back when Selina called, and heard Waylon’s stories.

Of course he hadn’t come back as the happy, cheeky kid full of sunshine and magic. Even if he’d survived the warehouse he’d have changed.

The kid who’d cried at the thought of letting Bruce down so hard she’d foiled Joker’s plans herself so it wouldn’t happen… had been let down even more.

Even from a distance she’d read it in every inch of him; festering rage, pain, moving more like the big Bat than ever. Like his body was just a weapon he was barely connected to.

Like nothing else mattered but his mission, and he’d run on broken legs without even noticing. Like he didn’t think there was anything about him worth protecting.

(It may have factored into one of her own visits back to Arkham, even if Mister J had left her alone.)

The poor guy had been so full of anger ever since he came back, and for all that she’d been Joker’s when he died he’d never blamed her.

If anyone else on Earth knew what it was like to have your life torn to the ground by that bastard, to have nothing left even after you crawled away, it was Jason.

Harley wouldn’t have blamed him for hating her just as much as the clown himself, but he hadn’t. Not even full dark side. Not even that first time, Tim’s blood still on his suit.

He’d tensed to fight, admitted he’d heard about the big split, and believed her when she swore it was true. Even accepted her number, though he hadn’t called for almost a year.

They weren’t close, not like she was with the baby bats these days, but Harley worried about him.

There was something broken in Jason that still hadn’t healed, that he kept gashing himself on its sharp edges. Something that might finally be scabbing over.

So yeah, this was 1000% not the fucking time for Bruce to be all up in his bullshit.

At least he seemed to know that too, shaking his head and slumping forward against her foot so he could rest his head in his hands.

“I… I don’t know. I thought I could show him how sincere I was. Have witnesses who’d hold me to it. Not force him to be alone with me when it’s clearly not what he wants,” he admitted bitterly, shoulders slumping.

Harley let out another low hum, tracking every inch of his posture with alert eyes.

Yeah, that was true. Fucking stupid, especially from a guy as sharp as Brucie, but true. And fully consistent with his character.

Then she sighed, pushing him back upright, foot rising up almost to his collar to make him look at her.

“Did ya think about asking Jason what he wanted?” She asked dryly, fully aware of what the answer would be.

Watched Bruce’s face pinch in annoyance. Probably at himself, which would be good. Sometimes the answer literally was that easy.

He still shook his head, even if he didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“I thought…” he sighed again, running a hand through his hair, but didn’t try and hunch. “I didn’t think. I assumed he would see it the way I did.”

Which he’d clearly already noticed Jason hadn’t. Honestly, Harley was almost proud of the man. He wasn’t usually this emotionally aware.

No wonder he was exhausted. Lotta introspection, using all those brain muscles he abjectly refused to hone.

Harley nodded and crossed one leg over the other, switching out which foot kept Bruce pinned to his chair.

“It’s one helluva lot ta throw at someone in front of an audience, Brucie,” she agreed plainly, and watched with interest as that moment if irritation sharpened.

Almost pulled him back to bat face.

“You sound like Danny,” he grumbled, not actually arguing. Might have tried to cross his arms if her foot wasn’t in the way.

Harley wasn’t having any of it. She knew she’d liked the kid.

“Good, he’s got two braincells ta rub together. What’s more important: that people see you say you’re sorry, or how Jason feels?” She asked sharply, her patient tone evaporating.

To his credit, Bruce didn’t hesitate.

“Jason.” This, there was no question of. Good.

“And who knows best how Jason feels?” She pushed on, eyes narrowing when he hesitated.

“Don’t make me use the bat, Brucie,” she warned him, and Bruce sighed again, shaking his head.

“I know what you want me to say, Harley. But Jason… his emotions are unpredictable. Out of control. I doubt even he knows what they are half the time.”

Which, frankly, they weren’t going to get into at the moment, if ever. Jason’s emotional state was Jason’s business.

Harley fixed Bruce with an unimpressed stare, raising an eyebrow.

“Good thing I didn’t ask anyone to control it, huh? But who. Knows. How Jason feels.” It was barely a question anymore, the tapping of her bat against the desk more an empty threat.

She wasn’t against percussive maintenance, especially where Brucie was concerned; he responded better to violence than words half the time.

Kinda like he needed the stubbornness actually knocked out of him before he could listen. It was why she wouldn’t recommend him to any ol’ civilian friends still in the biz.

Not that they’d have appreciated her recommendation.

He stared her down for a moment, defiant even with the bat to hand. Harley let the other brow rise slowly and crossed her arms, leaning forward to lean on her knee.

Bruce could outstare a cat, but he couldn’t impress or intimidate her and he knew it.

He said nothing, still staring her down, and she could see where his brain had turned off and the stubbornness kicked in.

Fine. She’d played this game before, and she knew what he expected to come next.

Sometimes she even let him have it, a little rough and tumble so he could wrestle himself out of his head by wrestling her. But today, there were way more interesting things for her to do with her time.

Nothing short circuited a pattern of habit like the wrong response. Or a response that pulled up an older pattern.

Still staring him dead in the eye, she stuck her finger in her mouth, licked it wet, then leaned forward to shove it in his ear.

Bruce jerked back, hands almost rising defensively even as he made a disgusted face.

“Harley! Stop!” He protested, already losing a little of that stoic wall, and Harley grinned. It’d worked since they were Jason’s age in college and probably always would.

In his bat-suit, Bruce could take any torture, any indignity and never break. Without that cowl though, he was the same dweeb who’d joined the cheerleading squad with her because Harvey pouted.

It was really a very good thing she’d been on her way out of the rogue business before she cracked his identity, but since he’d always known hers he probably had plans against her.

He didn’t use them though, and she appreciated that, even as she licked her other finger fast and stuck it in his other ear.

“Say it, Brucie, or I’ll lick every pen in this office,” she threatened, watched a smile almost crack. And watched him sag, one of her wrists in each hand, his expression sobering.

Not closing off again though. Now his exhaustion was plain to see, along with the lingering sorrow and regret.

Looked like that little tussle would be enough for today. Probably.

“Jason knows what he’s feeling best. I am sorry, Harley. I never meant to hurt him,” he confessed almost in a whisper, and Harley let her own dramatics subside too.

It wasn’t what he needed anymore.

Hooking her foot in under the arm of the chair, she pulled him back in towards her.

“I know, kid. An’ lucky for you, Jason’s got a lotta people in his corner, and he’s a resilient boy. He’s gonna be alright.” His relationship with Bruce could only get so much worse, honestly.

No matter how the two disasters kept rubbing each other wrong, there was still love there. That was what had hurt Jason so much in the first place.

If he hadn’t loved Bruce, he wouldn’t care what the man thought of him. If he hadn’t thought Bruce loved him once, he wouldn’t care that the Joker lived.

Maybe one day she’d knock their heads together and make them talk it out.

Today, Bruce gave her a helpless look.

“I don’t even know how I hurt him, Harley. I should have asked, I know I put him on the spot, but I never thought… how can I stop if I don’t know what I’m doing wrong?”

Harley sighed softly, straightening back up and tugging her hands back easily, propping them on the desk behind her.

It was a tough one, not because the answer was hard, but because it’d be hard for Bruce. But he might finally be ready to hear it, if he’d done this much of the work without her.

“You know what I’m gonna tell you,” she prodded gently and didn’t push back when he pulled the chair in enough to brace his elbows on the desk on either side of her hips and bury his face in his hands.

Muffled the hell outta his voice, but she could still make out the words.

“Talk to him.” Which, yeah, she had a chuckle at the irony, petting mussed black hair.

“Yeah, yeah, the Bat’s one weakness, clear communication. But you don’t know Jason as well as ya think ya do, Brucie. He’s not the kid you brought home.”

He pushed up at that, frown on his face and mouth open to argue, and she placed a finger across it to shush him.

“I know ya think you know that. But he’s really, really not. And thinking ya still know him the same way is how you keep hurting each other.” She gentled her voice, kept it soft, but he still slumped like she’d punched him.

She went back to petting his hair. He preferred punching.

“Stop trying to surprise him. Ask what he wants. And if you can’t tell him how you feel…” she paused for a moment, let Bruce huff out the beginnings of a grumble, and chuckled softly.

No surprise there.

“Then try writing it down. Write him a letter, and keep it to yourself until you know what you want to say. As many as it takes, and toss ‘em right in the fire. And if ya still can’t say it aloud, hide one in yer underwear drawer or somewhere personal.”

That prompted him to look up again and Harley cocked a brow, grinning.

“What better way ta make one of your nosey lot read it?” She asked, grin settling to a smirk when Bruce’s lower lip slid out in a pout.

Not that fake pretty boy play one he did for cameras, the real Bruce Wayne Does Not Like You’re Right.

Catching it between forefinger and thumb she gave it a gentle tug.

“Seriously though. Try it. It’s easier than tryin’ ta improvise. And always, especially double important if yer gonna be in public, talk ta Jason first. No more surprises, or how’s ‘e gonna trust you?”

He knocked her hand away, but his eyes did that far off thing they always did when he was calculating, so she assumed he was taking it on board.

Finally he nodded, glanced at the clock, and frowned. Rigid mask falling back into place, her old classmate disappearing again.

“I’m afraid I have a meeting, Harley. Cape business. Was that all?” He did actually sound kinda sorry, so Harley forgave him for switching himself off before they finished.

“Fine. But I’m stickin’ around fer a bit, so we’ll talk about the apology thing later,” she warned, giving his chest another sharp poke and then trying to neaten the mess she’d made of his hair with her fingers.

Gave it up as a bad job.

“An’ put the cowl on, ya look like a drowned bat.”

He raised a pointed eyebrow at her, the gesture saying more clearly than words whose fault that was, and let her push him back far enough to stand.

“Thanks, Harley. I probably won’t be back tonight,” he told her, voice already lowering into that bat growl Selina went crazy for.

Hopping off the desk, Harley waved him away and bent to scoop her bat off the floor.

“Yeah, yeah. I gotta check on Waylon tomorrow anyway, but I’ll drop by when I have a minute.” She paused at the door and grinned over her shoulder at him. “The little one didn’t even try an’ stab me today.”

Bruce gave her a tight smile back, already at the clock. Ready for his Grand Descent. Dramatic bitch.

“High praise, from Damian,” he acknowledged, and Harley laughed, heading back out into the manor.

Maybe she’d join the kids for dessert.

**

Bruce had to admit he felt lighter as the door closed behind Harley.

She hadn’t told him anything he didn’t know, not really, but just. Knowing she was here. That she knew why Jason was upset, and would help him fix it.

He was always grateful that she’d been one of the rogues who turned… well, not exactly straight, he kept up with her exploits in Coney Island, but good.

She cared about people, and protected what she considered hers fiercely. Luckily for him, that included his brood.

And. Maybe. Just maybe.

Danny might have had a point.

Perhaps Harley could help him work out why it was easier to tell Jason he was sorry to a room full of people than it was at his son’s hospital bed after a bad patrol.

He changed in the elevator on the way to the cave, the spare suit from his office easy and familiar to put on.

A good thing too, since just as he arrived and settled in front of the Batcomputer to pull up anything he thought he might need (and telling himself it definitely wasn’t evidence against a colleague), the zeta tube activated.

::B069 - John Constantine::

Tonight was finally going to be his night.

**

A hundred feet up in the dining room, Danny Fenton stiffened abruptly mid conversation, senses prickling as someone new crossed his aura.

Well. Someone different. There was no mistaking that potent, crackling cloud of mixed wards and magic. It had been a while since they’d been to Amity Park, but it certainly wasn’t someone new.

A slow, thoughtful smile spread across his lips and he settled back in his chair, ignoring the surprised looks from his companions as he considered this development.

It certainly answered his earlier question.

A hand rose slowly to cup his chin, fingers drumming along his jawline as a slow chuckle slipped free.

Tonight might just be more interesting than the gala after all.

“So that’s John Constantine… huh.”

———————

Next:

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#dp x dc #danny fenton dead and loving it #dead on main #danny x jason #jason x danny #yeah this might as well happen #chapter 11 #answers time #somehow bruce is temporarily still in the dark #bruce heavy chapter #getting into the angst a wee bit for brucie #sucks to suck buddyboy

[yona049]

𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Part 4

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Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

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𝘿𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙧!!!

𝗜 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀! 𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝗶𝘀 𝗲𝘅𝗰𝗹𝘂𝘀𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝗗𝗖 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗰𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗲 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝘄𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝗗𝗖! ^○^

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Warning!!

>Blood

>fainting (again ik)

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Superman was flying right beside the bat jet, fully in thought when the comm in his ear beeps.

"She left you a voice message, you know." Batman says sitting comfortably in the cockpit of the jet.

Superman smiles a little with his fists stretched out in front of him, per usual.

"Did you listen to it?"

"Of course, she could've been contacting another villain."

Superman rolls his eyes. "She's not a villain! Why do you always have to be so suspicious!"

Batman turns his head slowly and Clark didn't have to use x ray vision to see Batman's eye roll.

"You know what! Nevermind, play the message."

The light banter between him and Batman brings little smile to his face before he straightens up and listens to the voice message.

(Voice message Y/n recorded in Part 3)

Clark smiles hearing the nickname 'Glasses' then hears a little chuckle from batman.

He looks back to see batman totally straight-faced and not having moved since the last time he looked.

"I have super hearing remember?"

Batman presses his lips together, a little embarrassed getting caught laughing, before quickly starting the jets decent.

"We're here."

Superman snorts before following behind, and the jet finally landing on a small decserted island.

Once their both firmly on the ground, Batman confidently walks into the jungle.

"Who exactly is our lead? We're really far off from Gotham right now, there's no way any bad guys are around here."

Batman shakes his head, pushing a few leaves out of the way.

"I wouldn't call them bad guys, more like, reformed, thanks to my help-"

Making a quick side step, Batman avoids a vine charging right at him that superman effortlessly catches with his hand. Only after he grabbed it a red and black hammer is swung against the back of his head and breaks into hundreds of little woodchips.

"Hey! That was my favorite hammer!" a girl walks out from the bushes. Harley Quinn! Dressed in casual clothes but hair still tied into two ponytails.

"You should've warned me you'd be coming Batman!" Ivy, also wearing casual clothes stepped out of the bushes and yanks the vine out of Superman's hands.

"I sent a communication through hours ago, you should've gotten it by now."

Ivy's eyes slowly slide over to Harley, who giggles innocently.

"Red! Baby, did I mention Bat's is gonna swing by?"

~~

Y/n was slumped down on the floor right where Batman and Superman left her. Her fist was clutched shut tightly with blood leaking from between her fingers.

"Why is my hand bleeding? Why can my blood burn things?!"

Her heart beats quickly but she quickly takes deep breaths in through her nose then out.

"Ok, ok! Calm down, it's probably fine! Just bandage it up!"

She shakily pushes herself back up to stand. She slipped suddenly and almost sent herself flying over the railing and into the cave rocks below.

She growls and hits her head with her free hand.

"C'mon Y/n! Pull yourself together!"

She quickly runs to the medical cabinet, grabbing a hand full of bandaid and wrapping her bloodied hand quickly.

Once it was neatly and tightly wrapped up, Y/n felt herself breath again, until the bandages drop from her hand as the blood melted through the cotton material.

Y/n growls and squeezes her first shut again. She looked around for anything she was able to use to keep her blood frop dripping holes into the ground.

"Computer! Is there any way you could contact Batman right now?!"

The computer beeps once before it's voice echoes though the Bat-cave.

"I'm currently unable to reach him due to comm's being out of range. I will alert him as soon as he's back in range. Is there anything I can help with?"

Y/n scrunches her nose before stomping her foot on the ground in frustration.

"UGH! Shit!"

She looks back down at her hand before getting a small idea.

"I-I need something indestructible! The Bat's gotta have something like that here!"

The computer takes a moment before it makes a accepted sound.

From one of cases where Batman's suits are displayed, a door opens to a suit that looks close to all the others with the exception of bits of a golden metal embedded in it.

"This suit is made of Nth Metal. A metal that is used by Hawkman and others of his kind, nearly indestructible."

Y/n bites her lip and takes hold of the chest plate before yanking it off the mannequin.

"Sorry Batman!"

Feeling a bit of relief she looks around before spotting a notebook and pen.

After a few moments she's comfortably sat against a wall on the ground with her hand resting in the chest plate letting her blood drip from her palm into the chest plate like a bowl.

The notebook was resting on her leg as she scribbled down notes. Perfectly content and distracting herself with small doodles and notes.

"I really hope Batman and superman get here fast!"

She mumbles before leaning back and looking up at the roof.

"Clark, I really need you right now."

~~

Back in the jungle, Batman and superman were sat up in Harley and Ivy's small tree house.

The house walls made from vines and wooden floors, of course mixed in with some solar panels for electricity for Harley.

"This girl, she's got my Toxin in her blood? And she hasn't died? That's not possible, her organs should've melted from its acids by now."

Batman spots a visible flinch from Superman before quickly adding,

"Well, they haven't, we believe that the Joker venom and Scarecrow toxin have something to do with that. Was there anyone on the island recently?"

Harley was sitting next to Ivy playing with her hair when she chimed in.

"Well, There might've been some nasty looken guys on the island a few nights ago."

Harley pouts and looks up at Batman.

"They grabbed some of the Hogweed on the far side of the island, one of the plants carrying Ivy's toxin."

Superman growls before yelling,

"And you let them?!"

"Of course not!" Ivy yells back.

"We killed alot of them, but one guy got away! With a very small amount of the toxin."

Batman lifts his forearm and types onto the small screen in his cuff.

"This means they didn't have enough to make more than 1 green vile. Their intended target was one person from the start."

Superman clenches his fists with a few small knuckle clicks.

"That night I went to the storage, there weren't any other viles, only the one I took straight to you. It was a trap intended to poison Batman."

Batman looks down thinking for a second before swiftly standing up.

"We need to get back to the Reporter, make sure there aren't any other Toxin's we missed!"

Superman agrees and they both walk to the exit together before hearing Harley's voice, stopping them for a second.

"If I know anything 'bout Mister J, it's that he never makes mistakes. And if he does, it's always included in the plan somehow."

Batman only nods back at her before using the grappling hook to swing down from the tree.

It was a few minutes away from the island when batman gets a notification in the bat jet.

"What is it?" Superman asks having heard the alert.

"It's the girl, she asked the computer to call for us about 2 hours ago."

Superman feels his heart skip a beat and without another word a sonic boom follows his speeding up.

Batman puts the jet into super-speed and follows quickly behind Superman.

Landing aggressively onto the floor of the bat cave he scans for any sight of Y/n. When he spots her sitting on the ground, the chest plate was almost overflowing with blood and Y/n was out cold. The note book she'd been writing in had fallen onto the floor beside her.

He speeds over to her and lifts her hand out of the pool of blood that had burned her sleeve and only slightly burned her skin.

"She's lost alot of blood!" Superman yells to batman when he puts her back down on the med bay bed.

Batman makes quick work of her hand when he uses a thicker bandage used for Super's to wrap her hand.

"Stupid girl! Get her linked to the monitors!" Even for Batman, he had a slight bit of worry entangled in the anger in his voice.

Superman takes a stick on heart rate monitor and placing it on her chest right beneath her collar bone.

"She needs blood, but no human blood is gonna save her now!" Batman declared.

Superman realized what Batman was suggesting and shakes his head quickly stepping back.

"No! We have no idea what my blood will do to her! We don't even know if my blood is Human compatible!"

"CLARK!" Batman yells aggressively grabbing Superman by the shoulders.

"She may not have a choice! Save her, Clark. I know what she means to you."

Superman clenches his teeth giving Y/n a small glance over batman's shoulder.

"Alright, but I don't know how she's gonna handle Superman giving her blood."

"Then don't be Superman."

#batman #clark kent #clark kent x reader #clark kent x you #clark kent x y/n #superman #superman x reader #superman x y/n #superman x you #scarecrow dc #dc joker #dc comics #dc universe #dcu #henry cavill #henry cavill superman