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Similar Deviations
3. I Wanna Be Free~
~I Wanna Be Free, I Wanna Be Loved

I Wanna Be More Than You're Thinking Of

Everything Seems To Be Estranged When You’re Alone...

One Day I'll Stop Keeping Track

And Give Myself Time To React

-Panic! at the Disco (I Wanna Be Free)


The doe-eyed child stared, slack-jawed, back at me.
I wondered idly what she would look like with white face paint over her porcelain face, a diamond pattern decorating her attire that, naturally, clung to her perfect skin.

Whoa, fuck.

I sit back in my chair and tap my toe, feigning impatience.
"I'm a-waiting doll-face." I arch my eyebrow again, letting my eyes turn dark and cold. I was tired of this game already. I only put the effort into warmth because she was pleasing me with her wonderful naivety. But now, I shook my head internally. This may not be worth the effort after all.
"Mister Joker, my name is Doctor H. Quinzel. I am here to help you," she sauntered over to the table and slammed her hands down on the table.
Ooh, kitty got claws.
“And it would be a helluva lot easier without your incessant toe-tapping!" I looked down from her icy blue stare and to my lap, I internally shook myself, I had stopped tapping my toe.
Looking up at the doctor through my eyelashes, I grinned. Seems like this was going to be fun after all. I sighed and then looked her full on.
"Listen sweet-um-" I waved my hand at her.
"Doctor Quinzel." She insisted.
"Doll-face-" I cocked my head to the side.
"Doctor Harley Quinzel." I coughed suddenly on my own saliva. That name. Why did I know it? It wasn't until she had put it like that, that I had remembered the spark.
I smirked, trying to forget the little match that was burning in the back of my mind. Something told me that I didn't really want to remember.
"Harley Davidson." I leaned back in my chair tipping in onto two legs, kicked my feet up, and grinned.
The movement surprised her and she stood up and glared at me. This Harlequin, was very good. Bratty, but mostly hilarious. I just grinned and laughed.
"You find me funny, Mister Joker?" She growled- or at least tried to growl, at me.
"Actually, little Harlequin-"
"For fucks sake, Mister Joker!" My green eyes widened. Oh my God, did this little innocent child just swear at me?
I leaned my chair foreword, the feet slamming onto the tile.
"Well, little Hateful-Quin, if you would let me finish one Goddamn sentence, then maybe we would be getting somewhere past the introductions." I quipped at her, rising from my seat. I easily cleared her head by more than half of a foot.
I tasted the metallic pang of adrenaline in the back of my throat, and my heart began to race wildly against the confines of my ribcage.
What was this little Gotham City siren doing to me?

"Fine. Please, go on." She crossed her arms at me and started to tap her own toe.
What a little minx!
"First things first, then, Har-ley.” I sat back in my chair and pointed at myself. “Don't you think 'Mister Joker' is too serious of a name for me? I mean, look at me!" I gestured my hands from my face, which was slathered in face paint, then slowly down my slender form, clad in a purple with yellow pinstripe suit, orange vest and light gray dress shirt.
"And secondly, I do love your name! It makes me smile and leads me to think... Sidekick." My lips twitched involuntarily at the corners at her disapproving look.
She rolled her eyes at me. "Alright then, what would you like me to call you? Because I obviously can't make you call me Doctor Quinzel." She smirked at me with false exasperation, I could see it in her swimming-blue eyes that she liked this game as much as I did.
“Why don't you tag me with a name that you actually like? Hmm? I've chosen you as my Harlequin, so what am I to you, Doc?" She bristled at that.
I had to try very hard to stifle the giggle that threatened to bubble from my lips, “I'm sorry, did I hit a nerve?”

"Mistah J. You are nothin' to me. You are, at the highest point, just a patient. Nothin' more." She turned away from me and deliciously swung her hips as she sauntered away towards the door.
"Awh, and I thought we were getting somewhere. Where ya goin' little Doc?" I got up from my chair and slid to sit Indian-style on top of the table. She turned back to me with fire in her eyes.

Something deep in those eyes I recognized. And her being mad at me, only made the little spark grow larger, into a fire. It then became deliciously uncontrollable as it made scorched pathways through my mind, intent on making a connection with the past.

That little voice in my head began to scream louder: Forget!

Harley stomped her way back to me and poked her finger to my chest.
"Let me clarify some things Mister J,” She jabbed her index finger into my chest,
“Number one: I'm not 'your' anything, you do not hold any part of me." She now added her middle finger alongside the index,
"Number two: we are not friends."
Ring finger,
"Number three: I am your therapist. You will treat me with the respect that I deserve."
"And number four: You think you got all the power, don't you? Well news flash buddy. You don't.” She flattened out her palm to my chest and shoved me. Although, before she stepped away, she allowed her palm to rest against my chest- directly over my heart, for a moment. And it was only for a second that her clear half-lidded gaze met my wide-eyed expression, but it threatened to paralyze me forever.
She took her palm off my chest and walked away from me again.


Then, my racing heart felt like it stopped altogether.
I saw the reflection of something in the two-sided mirror as the doctor, my little Harlequin, left. It was something that I haven't seen on a woman for more than ten years. It was a rose-pink blush, and it was her blush alone that I could have recognized, for it was the only one I ever remembered.
Harley Quinn.

That's when I vowed to myself to escape this Asylum and escape now.
These feelings that I am recalling are no longer apart of who I am.
There is no room for this girl in my life anymore.

But fuck it all I wanted there to be.
Gallery with all the chapters:…
Make sure to read the proceedings before this one, c'mon guys this isn't first grade.

This again is written in Joker's POV, so again, this is a madman we're talking about, he will use cuss words and not give a damn about it.

I changed it from 30 years to more than ten years. my mythology timeline was screwed up... sorry!

as always, I love you all and there will be more!

:iconawwwyeahplz: YUSSS
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"You think I'm pretty, without any makeup on. You think I'm funny, when I tell the punch line wrong. I know you get me, so I let my walls come down, dooowwwwnnnn! Let's go all the way tonight, no regrets, just love. We can dance until we die, you and I, will be young forever!"

Joker looked up from a newspaper he had spread over the lap of his dirty purple suit and looked at the closed bathroom door where, behind the rotted wood, Harley was showering and singing an annoying pop song about love at the top of her lungs. "That girl couldn't carry a tune with a bucket," he muttered as he looked back down to the paper. He circled the obituary of a death he had caused, a smile spreading on his dry, scabby lips.

"…You brought me to life, now every February, you'll be my valentine – valentine! Let's go all the way tonight, no regrets just love. We can dance until we die, you and I will be young forever!"

"Harley! Shut up!" Joker snapped as he threw his paper to the ground and stomped towards the bathroom. He rested his hand on the doorknob but didn't go in. He pressed his ear to the door and listened to the words of Harley's song.

"You make me feel like I'm livin' a teenage dream. The way you turn me on I can't sleep. Let's run away and don't ever look back, don't ever look back!"

Harley certainly had never looked back when it came to her relationship with Joker. She'd been his psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum. She'd been an A level student with a scholarship to Gotham University for gymnastics. She'd petitioned the higher-ups for months for a chance to interview Joker. She'd gotten her wish and Joker had, in a way, gotten his.

Here was a girl so eager to make her mark on the world of lunatics that she had yet to build a wall between herself and her patients. She was young and naïve and oh-so-easily charmed. Harleen Quinzel was like putty in Joker's hands. Just the way he liked his women and just what he needed to break out of Arkham Asylum.

At first she acted professionally: she jotted notes, nodded her head, asked appropriate questions at the appropriate times, and kept her distance from Joker's advances. It wasn't long though before her naivety and, honestly, her academic arrogance, led her to believe she was making actual progress with the Joker. She believed that his lies were truths and she let her guard down and fell in love with Joker.

"My heart stops when you look at me. Just one touch, now baby I believe. This is real, so take a chance and don't ever look back, don't ever look back! We drove to Cali and got drunk on the beach. Got a motel and built a fort out of sheets. I finally found you, my missing puzzle piece. I'm complete!"

Joker wondered if she did have regrets. He wouldn't blame her if she did. That night when Harleen Quinzel died and Harley Quinn was born was a moment in the girl's life bigger than anything else she'd ever do. She threw away her family and friends, her career… her sanity. She adopted a life of crime and abuse in the form of bleached white skin, slicked back green hair, and a manic smile.

"Imma get your heart racing in my skin tight jeans, be your teenage dream tonight. Let you put your hand on my in my skin tight jeans. Be your teenage dream tonight!"

Harley had fallen madly in love with Joker and was willing to do anything for him. Her first night as Harley Quinn the harlequin she broke him out of Arkham Asylum – and has done many, many times since.

Joker, at first, had used her affection for his advantage, believing himself to be immune to the girl's stupid charms and bubbling laughter. All to quickly though he found himself staring at her stark white face when she wasn't looking and he very nearly purred when she called him Puddin'. He even found himself smiling at her pathetic attempts to tell jokes.

"The song has a ring of truth," Joker smirked as he went to sit back down. "You always do tell the punch line wrong, Harley."

"Yoooouuuu make me feel like I'm livin' a teenage dream. The way you turn me on I can't sleep. Let's run away and don't ever look back, don't ever look back! My heart stops when you look at me. Just one touch now baby I believe. This is real, so take a chance and don't ever look back, don't ever look back!"

They'd been together for years. Years and years. He was abusive and manipulative but she stuck around. Could she love him that much? It's possible that during the few and far between moments of playfulness he had had with her, she mistook his good humor for genuine affection and stayed because she thought he loved her…

Did he love her? He had certainly never said it to her. He hadn't even said it to himself. He thought he loved Harley, but putting the words 'I love you' together just seemed wrong and unnatural to him.

The shower and Harley's singing stopped. Joker heard the shower curtain rings scratch against the metal shower curtain rod. Harley's small feet shuffled across the dirty tile floor and flung open the bathroom door. Steam poured forth like the fog off a horror movie swamp and Harley emerged. She scarcely paid any attention to Joker as she headed for their bedroom.

Joker cleared his throat and Harley stopped to look at him. Her eyes lit up as a smile spread across her face. She loved him, it was easy to tell. His love was much more hidden, much deeper, much more… complicated. When he first began toying with Harley it had merely been to get his own way, but after so long with her he found it harder to manipulate her like he had in the beginning. Not because she was weary of his cruelness but because he was hesitant to do it at all. He was even horrified to find that she had found ways of manipulating him!

Maybe that was the mark of his love.

Was she able to see that though? Joker's heart lurched. Was it time to actually say the words?


"Yes Puddin'?"

"I've got something to say to you."

"I'm all ears."

"I… just wanted to say… we've been together for a long time… I think it's time… I want tell you… that… I…" Harley looked on expectantly and Joker lost his nerve. Kind words were too hard. "Never mind."

"No, go on."

"I said never mind."

"And I said go on."

"You really don't know when to shut up do you, Harley?"

"If you wanted to shut me up you'd've done it all ready. You obviously have something to tell me, so you better tell me because I'm not gonna let up until you do."

Joker sneered. He forgot from time to time that Harley was actually intelligent. "I just wanted to say…" Kind words were too hard. Easier to go back to what he knew best. "I… just wanted to say that I think you are the most horrid creature I've ever crossed paths with and I regret every day that I don't kill you."

Harley cocked her head to the side with a thoughtful look on her face. After a moment she smiled.

"What are you smiling about, Harley? You're a cancer on my soul and I wish I could tear you out and label you medical waste! I wish you'd leave me alone – disappear off of the face of the Earth so I could have some peace and quiet! You're awful. You're dreadful. The next time you land in Arkham, I'll leave you there to rot! So tell me, after hearing all this, why the hell are you smiling?"

"I'm smiling because I know what you're trying to say."

"Oh, do you miss psychiatrist?"

"Yup. And you know perfectly well that I know."

"You don't know anything."

"Well, then correct me if I'm wrong."

Joker considered standing up to slap her across her arrogant face. But quickly decided against it. He couldn't say 'I love you' to her directly, but he could stay quiet and let her draw her own conclusions. He saw it as a type of neutrality. He was neither proclaiming his love nor denying it.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." She blew him a kiss. "I love you too, Puddin'." She bounced away happily without waiting for Joker's reply and he couldn't help but laugh. She was back to her old self, as she had first been at Arkham. Hell, maybe she had never changed from the girl he had first met... Maybe she'd been playing him this whole time...

"Harley… playing me?" Joker thought about it briefly before shaking the very notion of it from his mind. "That's even harder to swallow than her fairytale notion that I might even consider falling in love with her…"
here's a one-shot about how much Joker secretly loves his Harley! :D

i banged this one out in an hour and didn't proof read it so if it sucks (story wise or grammar wise) i'm very sorry - i'll fix it up over the next few days. i just had to post this because it's the first thing i've posted in weeks!

fyi, the song Harley sings is Teenage Dream by Katy Perry (as if we all haven't heard it enough to know immediate what it is!)


Disclaimer: i do not own Batman in any way and this is purely for entertainment purposes.
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Mount Justice was empty, no one was there. The Fridge was full, a stack of movies lay untouched on the coffee table. The training room was empty, no sounds were heard. Anywhere. Perfection thought Artemis, as she grabbed her large green hoodie, a mug of coffee and her favourite book.

She sat reading for approximetly 7 and half minutes before...
*Reconized Kidflash B03*  
No! Artemis Panicked! Hide, then he'll see no ones here and leave. Yes! Hide!
Artemis grabbed her book and ran to the side of the sofa, slide her self under.
Everthing was going to plan the coffee cup!

Wally walked in, he thought her heard somthing, but it was proablly his imagination, his brain was probally playing tricks from lack of food. I mean he had't ate in like half an hour...but what was that? A mug. He picked up the coffee cup,still warm.
Hmm...he thought, noticing that the mug beared artemis' arrow logo on he went to investigate. And they're sticking out from the sofa was a single lock of blonde hair.

"Ha!" he shouted. "I caught you!"
Artemis climbed out. ""
"Cause mum and dad are on some romantic trip, flas-i mean my uncles out on...Work and i hate staying at Jay's cause the only thing to do is checkers! What are you doing here?"

Artemis sighed, "My mums out of town, on Buisness and i'm not even gonna think about staying at my dads and my aunty's a little to... involved with her work to be any fun."

"Oh," Wally said,"Well...Old Friend of mine, wanna watch a movie?" he said looking at the stack of flicks on the table, but before she has a chance to reply, or protest he had pulled her onto the sofa.
"So...What movie?" said Wally almot begging for her to stay.
"Hmfff...fine. And that one." she pointed to a case with a scary face on.

They sat far appart, but close enough to share wally's large yellow double bed quilt with red lightning bolts on. A bowl of popcorn lay in the middle.
They both decided to wear they're pj's for comfort.
Kidflash, thinking he'd be alone only packed some pj pants, long, with lighting bolts on, like most things the speedster owned.
Artemis wore a tight tank top, that showed her midrift. With green shorts with arrows on and her long hair was in a lower pony tail.She wore long green and light green stripey socks.
As the movie got scarier they found themselves edging closer towards each other, wally had his arm on her shoulder, but he was more scared she'd let go than the actual movie it's self.
Suddenly on the really scary part, artemis flung her arms around Wally and he placed both around her.
The movie ended but neither let go, both just sat,not wanting to be the one to let go.
Artemis decided if neither would let go, then they should enjoy the moment, she placed her head on his chest, his heart was thumping fast,but then she listening and it calmed as his body melted into the postiton.

His hand was round her waist, one finger playing with a lock of her golden hair.
Her hand was round his muscular stomach, the other almost touching his neck. He placed his other hand near her shoulder, but neither could stand the silence any they kissed. Gently at first,then hard. She was now lying on top of him, his hands on her waist. Her hands round his neck.

They stopped, looked into each others eyes, His green eyes almost glowing in the dark room. Her blue/grey eyes where clear and bright and looking straight at him.

Wally was the first to speak,and the sciece prodegy could't explain what just happened  he just said: "Wow."
"Wow." repeated Artemis.
They were now sitting, knees touching, facing each other. He put him arms around he shoulders, "I'm Sorry." He said.
"For what excatly? " Artemis asked.
"For being mean to you, never accepting you, always rejecting you..."
"For kissing me?"
"That," Wally smiled, "I'm definetly not sorry for."

So, if you did't get it, Flash is Wally's uncle and Artemis' Aunty who's 'Involed with her work' was chesire.

Enjoy! ;]
Feedback will be used!
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She stared down at the empty coffee mug with the words #1 Sweetheart printed on the side, drumming her fingers nervously on the reception desk of Arkham's intensive treatment facility.

Commissioner Gordon, whom had just arrived a few minutes previously after dealing with the press, looked over the blonde haired doctor wearing an extremely altered version of a nurse's outfit she designed herself, holding her heart shaped necklace tightly in her hand; wondering how Ivy, her girlfriend, whom was also reformed, would feel if he would've killed her.

"Look Harley," he began, putting his coffee down, "I know you're scared but you've seen all the improvements Warden Sharp has made to Arkham. I'm sure everything will be fine.

"I know, She sighed deeply, "Commish, I'm not sure I can take your word for it. What if he escapes? I'm the first one on his killing list!" She calmed herself down before continuing, "I'm sorry, it's just that he's so unpredictable. He'll probably manage to get out and then go run around the place slaughtering all the staff before leaving me last and, and..."

Harley struggled for words as Gordon patted her on the back like a father trying to reassure his son before a baseball match, "Like I said, everything will be fine. Sharp has increased the guards just in case."

The woman scoffed and gave a very sarcastic chuckle, "These poor boys are newbies, most of them haven't seen him yet. We go through more staff here than celebrities on reality TV, just tonight I was asked to come here to help file more application, I need the money so I asked to be paid overtime."

Just then doors of the transfer loop opened and Harley saw two familiar figures stepping in surrounded by guards. One was the Dark Knight and when she caught sight of the one strapped to a stretcher, she froze in fear. Trailing behind Batman and Gordon as the two men discussed how the clown had made their night a living hell.

Joker didn't take his eyes off of her and when he winked at her she clenched the clipboards she was holding so tightly she almost broke it in two pieces. The Clown Prince of Crime was then taken off the stretcher and handcuffed by two guards.

One of the guards stopped them and told Batman that the new procedure called for non authorized personal to remain in the security office outside the holding cell. He then asked Harley if she wanted to come in but she just shook her head in fear and followed Batman as if he was her own shield.

The three electric gates powered up, Harley relaxed, feeling safe. She placed the clipboard down on the desk under the window overlooking the holding cells, where the cuffed joker was being led and looked as the clown prince of crime was finally being incarcerated.

But just then the Joker smashed his head against one of the guards and strangled the other, freeing him from the handcuffs. He made a little dance before the security gate blocking the corridor that led to the decontamination chamber opened.

Harley stepped backwards in fear as Batman punched the bulletproof window. Just before the dark knight leaped towards the cell area he threw something at Harley. Harley caught it with shaking hands and watched Batman leap into the holding block, fighting the thugs Joker had freed.

As Batman was in hot pursuit the blonde doctor opened her hands to reveal a small earpiece with a bat symbol on the side. She placed in her ear and activated it, almost being deafened by the static before she was able to tune it to the right frequency.

"Hello," she said nervously into the mic.

"Harley, it's me, I need you to use your codes to open Arkham's safety features for me. Can you do that?" The Dark Knight said in his usual monotone voice that made Harley immediacy recollect herself.

"Roger that." She replied as she walked to one of the computers and booted up the safety systems, trying to find any area the clown hadn't already hacked into with little success.

"The purification chamber is full of Joker gas Harley, can you open the vent system  for me?" Batman asked and judging by the fact that the area's CCTV cameras where cloaked in gas it was pretty serious.

Harley typed in the emergency code for the massive venting system but she was denied from the main security system, "Okay I can't access the venting system, you'll have to use the emergency button inside the chamber."  

She looked at the screen displaying various images from the security cameras. She could clearly see Batman heading towards the patient purification chamber, Zsaaz had strapped one of the guard to the electric chair.

"Looks like Zsaaz has got hold of one of the guards, can't shut down the power to that chamber though, I'm getting cut off by the minute and..." then the words "Joker's Asylum" flashing on the screen.

"Ah ah, very funny clown." She scoffed, blowing and errand strand of her eyes.

Whilst Batman continued his pursuit, Harley did her best to regain control of some of the systems but her efforts where in vain, she could only look at the screen where Batman was fighting a huge, mutated inmate. Batman beated him with ease by making the brute smash his head against the nearest wall, something Harley strangely found amusing.

Batman then confronted Joker as the madman told the hero that the only just begun. Then Joker ended on an ultimatum, "Oh, and if you try to follow me someone else is going to pay", and then she heard a smashing noise and a grunt coming from behind her.

"What the..." she said, turning around, where the hand of one of the guards, Frank Boles, grabbed her head and smashed it onto the screen. The world plunged into darkness as she fell unconscious.
My first fanfic, It's about Batman Arkham Asylum revolving around a reformed Harley Quinn.

Part 1- Here.

Part 2- [link]

Part 3- [link]

Part 4- [link]

Part 5- [link]


All characters belong to DC comics
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A/N- The 400(ish) words long piece of literature in between these symbols:  -*- is written in third person, omniscient, while the rest of the story is written in first person that bounces around between the main cast. This is here just to make sure you don’t get confused!


A pair of green eyes scanned the pictures in a therapist directory, flipping through page after page, staring at picture after picture- waiting to detect the perfect subject.
When suddenly the man stopped, and stabbed his finger in the middle of a page towards the end of the book.
“I want her!” He commanded at the other man in the room.
“I'm sorry, but she only handles patient paperwork and those sorts of things. She doesn't deal with high-class criminals, like yourself.” The opposite man quipped in a monotonic, English, accent.
“I don't care. I won't talk to anyone but her.”
“Why her?” The English man scratched at his chin.
“Don't psycho-analyze me, doc, I just want her.” The green eyed man tore out the page with his requested doctor and snapped the dusty book shut.
“I will put you through electric-shock therapy... again.” The doctor threatened.
The patient shrugged and rolled his eyes.
“I will hand your case off to Doctor Crane.”
Another shrug and eye-roll.
“I'll put you in a cell with Edward Nygma.”
The other man made a light scoffing noise and kicked his feet up.
“I'll... put you in a cell with Victor Zsasz.”
He rumbled with laughter now, “Are you kidding me? Zsasz is so much fun a parties! He can appreciate the pleasure in using weapons within the blade-and-handle family.” The madman laughed and his mouth opened into a grin, “You know, you're never going to win with me. Just get me Doctor Quinzel, and all will be good!” He clasped both hands together at the side of his face and smiled.
“Fine, Mr. Joker, I will get the doctor that you requested. Please wait while I make a few calls.”
“Alright, but make it snappy, Strange 'ole boy! I haven't got all night!”
Doctor Hugo Strange, head Doctor over Arkham Asylum's most notorious and criminally insane patients, walked down the blank hallway toward the nurse's station. Just before his finger connected with the call bell- he heard a fit of mad, verging on manic, laughter escape from the cell that he had just left the Joker in. He rubbed his gloved fingers against his temples.
This was going to be a very long night indeed.


1. Ready To Go~
~You've Got These Little Things
That You've Been Running From
You Either Love Them Or I Guess You Don't
You're Such A Pretty Thing
To Be Running From Anyone
A Vision With Nowhere To Go
-Panic! At the Disco (Ready To Go [Get Me Outta My Mind]

%Harley Quinn%

Vrrrr vrrr, vrrr vrrr.
I heard my phone buzz on my bedside table and my eyes fluttered open. Looking at the numbers on my digital clock I cursed internally; It was 1:07 AM, damn.
Sitting up, I grabbed my blackberry off of the table. It was the Asylum calling.
Pressing the answer button down, I mumbled my title and a brief greeting into the receiver.
"Hello Doctor, this is GCPD Commissioner Gordon speaking, I apologize for the late call but he requested you personally."
What? I thought, Nobody has ever called me doctor before. "Commissioner, I apologize, but it is one in the morning. I have no idea who or what you're talking about."
"Do you have a television, Doctor?" The Commissioner questioned warily.
"Of course, why?"
"You might want to tune it in to News Station 3, I believe Jack Rider-" I instinctively look to my left side-- sure enough Jack's gone,"- is reporting right now on tonight's events. Call the Asylum back at extension four-two-three when you understand." The phone line went dead.
I never did comprehend why policemen were so cryptic, but either way I grab the remote control and switch the TV to the appointed station.
Sure enough, I see Channel 3 News Anchor, love of my life, Jack Rider. His lips quivering against his hastily spoken words.
I turn up the volume, "… I say again, The Joker had been captured by Batman!” Jack beamed into the camera.
“When we come back, we'll go to Vicki Vale, live at Arkham Asylum with Gotham City Police Department Commissioner James Gordon." The camera zoomed out, and the screen switched immediately to commercials. There was one for Gotham city reality, the Real Housewives of Gotham, Wayne enterprises something or other, and then finally the news came back and I saw the blonde hair, blue eye visage of Vicki Vale.
"Hello, and good early-morning Gothamites. This is Vicki Vale reporting, live with GCPD Commissioner Gordon.” She took a breath, steam escaping from her pink lips when she exhaled.
“Commissioner Gordon what has really been going on, this fall night in Gotham?" Her voice had the exact blend of cockiness and confidence that a reporter should have.
"Well, Miss Vale, as you know the Joker was on another one of his schemes tonight. He was planning on setting off bombs all over Gotham, at every hour starting at five this coming morning." Gordon paused and licked his lips. "But as you can see, we all are still an explosion free Gotham, thanks to Batman."
"So, Commissioner, what you're telling me-- correct me if I'm wrong-- is that Gotham is finally safe from the infamous Agent of Chaos?"
Something clicked in my brain then, and I gaped at the TV screen.

Joker. He's going to be my first patient.

I jumped out of bed, not bothering to listen to Gordon's Gotham-Is-Now-Safe-Thanks-To-Batman speech. He's said those words far too many times for them to have meaning anymore. Especially when the situation involved Joker. It was a never-ending circle with him, the catch and inevitable escape. A circle that I was determined to break, even if it drove me insane in the process.

Running over to the closet I tore my fire-engine red dress off the hanger. I always saw myself in this dress interviewing my first Patient. Next came the only pair of heels I possessed, which were onyx-black stilettos.
Always dress to impress, even if the person who you are about to meet is a psychopathic murderer, right?
I nodded yes to myself, marching proudly to the bathroom.


After getting out of the shower, dressing, and carefully pinning my long golden-blonde hair into a bun, I slid my glasses over the bridge of my nose.
I'm ready to go.

Walking out into the main living area I immediately spot my doctor's coat hanging on the back of the door. I can hardly contain my excitement as I sprint over to it, almost tripping over my own feet several times on the way, and slide the gloriously pure and unworn white coat over my flaming dress.
I am perfect.
Spinning happily in a circle I faced the door again and when I noticed a piece of paper scotch-taped to the surface, I rip it away immediately recognizing the chicken-scratch scrawl of my fiance.

I didn't want to wake you when I got called in to do a report on Joker... I don't think it's anything too major. Just that psycho up to his shenanigans again.
But hey, maybe you'll catch a break and be his psychiatrist this time. What has it been? Only a thousand ways that you've petitioned Strange to get a badge, and get out of that paper-pushing job?
Love you. Always.

My heart skips a beat every time Jack tells me that he loves me and I pull out my phone intending to text him that I love him too, but find my phone already buzzing in my hand.
I shake my head, the Asylum again.
Right when I clicked “accept” the person on the other end was talking. His voice a deep, husky baritone.
"Doctor Quinzel. I am aware of the late hour, but the Joker is getting impatient." Oh.
"B-Batman?" I asked, dumbfounded, eyes widening.
"Yes, now, I will be in my vehicle at the front of your apartment complex in ten minutes. I will be personally escorting you to your interview with the Joker. Along the way we will be discussing his case file. Do you understand?"
"Yes sir. I would like that very much. I'll be seeing you in ten minutes." I could barely believe I was talking to The Dark Knight himself, let alone that I would be getting in his famous car in less than ten minutes.
There was a fantastic noise on the other end of the line and then sounds of a scuffle. A man's voice screamed, and another man, whose voice I recognized as Hugo Strange, yelled “Knife!”
Batman sighed, the end of the breathy sound coming out as a growl.
“Better make that five, Quinzel.”
My eyes widened further. What had just happened? “Uh, Okay. Goodbye, Sir.”
Batman mumbled something unintelligible.
“What was that?” My voice seemed to go up an octave.
“I said, 'Don't call me sir.'” Batman quipped and I blinked

A second passes before I realize that I’m just listening to the dull ring of the dial tone. I stow away my phone, internally bracing myself for- what may just turn out to be- the longest night of my life.
YES! This is where it all began, a whole year ago and now I am editing! This Chapter is complete (finally) and 100% edited!
On to the next one!
Gallery with all the chapters:…

PS- I adore comments and constructive criticism!
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The first time he had laid eyes on you, Fish Mooney had told him that you had a voice that made heads turn and eyes widen in surprise. Oswald had no doubt about that since a beautiful woman like yourself would have an equally divine voice to match. He watched you with curious eyes, a small smile on his face, as the spotlight was lowered onto your (h/c) head. Your eyes were rimmed with black, making your (e/c) pop and when your eyes flickered upwards and met his, he felt his breath hitch in his throat.

“Don’t get too riled up now,” Fish Mooney said, giving him a look. “Just wait until you hear her sing.”

Oswald waited on by excitedly. You took a step up to the microphone; your blue velvet dress sparkling underneath the light. Your red painted lips parted and a voice sweet as honey that had a twinkling sound like wind chimes, was heard.

“You say that you wanna go

To a land that's far away

How are we supposed to get there

With the way that we're living today?

You talk lots about God

Freedom comes from the call

But that's not what this bitch wants

Not what I want at all~”

Fish Mooney poked her manicured red nail into Oswald’s side, later pointing up to you on stage. “Oh here it comes. Now you better be listening, Penguin.”

Inwardly, he grimaced at the nickname but he still smiled at her and said, “I wouldn’t miss a single word, Miss.”

“I want money, power and glory

I want money and all your power, all your glory

Hallelujah, I wanna take you for all that you got

Hallelujah, I'm gonna take them for all that they got~”

    Oswald listened intently, hanging onto every word that left your mouth. The corner of your lips would sometimes quirk upwards into a smirk and when your eyes glanced at him, he noticed the way a faint blush appeared on your cheeks. It would only be there for a few seconds but it had still appeared. Oswald thought it was cute whenever that happened. When the song came to an end, Fish Mooney clapped only for a seconds while Oswald continued.

“Bravo darling,” she grinned. “Your pretty voice will bring me lots of new customers.” She paused for a second to glare at Oswald. “Penguin, my dear, you can stop clapping now.”

“Sorry Miss,” he apologized, looking down at his feet before flashing you a small smile. He was purely smitten with you and Fish Mooney could tell.

“Well I won’t be needing you for now, honey, so go home and relax until it’s show time tomorrow,” Fish Mooney grinned.

“Thank you, Miss,” you smiled.

Your heels clicked against the stage as you made your way down. You gathered your things which were placed at a table in front of the stage. You had just been slipping on your coat when Oswald had approached you. Oswald wasn’t the type to leave Fish’s side so he couldn’t help but feel thankful to his boss for ordering him to accompany you home.

“Hello, Miss,” he smiled at you. “Fish Mooney says I should accompany you home. You know how bad the streets of Gotham can be. I hope this is alright.”

“It’s not a problem at all,” you smiled back. “My name is (Name), by the way. And you are…?”

“Oswald Cobblepot,” he grinned. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”


The two of you walked out of the nightclub and Oswald helped you call a cab. He had opened the door for you to let you in first and then slid onto the seat next to you. He wasn’t sure what to say to you at first. He wasn’t too good at small talk. Usually Fish Mooney would tell him when to speak and how to talk to her so it’s natural that socializing wasn’t exactly his forte. However he had just met you and was curious as to how you found out about the nightclub so that’s just what he decided to ask.

“So what brought you to the nightclub?” he asked. “Do you know Fish Mooney personally?”

You played with the strap of your pocket book. “Well not exactly….I’ve never had a chance to speak to her until just a few days ago but before I got up on stage, the people that I knew always talked about her and how she could help me. I didn’t believe it at first but here I am.” You pulled back your coat so that he could see the dress you were wearing that still sparkled in the dimly lit cab. “Do you see this dress?”

“Yes, it’s a beautiful one.”

“Fish got it for me.”

“Really?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I was just as surprised but she told me that she likes her girls to dress good on stage. One day I get a knock on my apartment door and there’s this white box at my doorstep. I open it and I find this dress with a note attached telling me to stop by her nightclub so she could hear me sing.”

“She can be kind like that…” Oswald remarked, leaving it at that. He wasn’t sure what sort of people you were tied with or what messes you had gotten yourself into. He didn’t want to make assumptions but usually the people of Gotham didn’t always have a past that was as lavish as the clothes on their backs.

You nodded. “Yes, I see that now. Before I started singing, I was struggling to pay the apartment bills. But since Fish Mooney paid me a little in advance, I’m feeling pretty good about myself.”

The cab was soon nearing your destination which meant that Oswald would have to be returning soon. Soon, the cab pulled to a stop in front of an old, shabby looking apartment building with a creepy looking alley on the side. The entrance doors had glass that were now tinted yellow and had dust coating them. The steps leading up to the buildings were uneven and looked like a death trap for anyone who had a cane or a limp.

“Well here’s my stop….” You turned to him and you leaned in to give him a quick hug. “Thank you, Mr. Cobblepot, for bringing me home. It’s been a long time since I’ve been treated nicely.”

“It’s not a problem, Miss. But please, call me Oswald,” he grinned.

   With a final nod, you got out of the cab and started heading up to your apartment. Oswald waited in the cab, watching you go and even still waiting when you disappeared into the building. He just wanted to make sure you’d be alright.

“We can go now, sir,” he told the cabbie after ten minutes had passed.

“Finally,” the cabbie muttered.

♦♦♦One Month Later♦♦♦

“You know sometimes I don’t understand how I put up with this place,” you spat, propping yourself up on the kitchen counter.

You had just finished your performance on stage and you were making you way off to go and change into something different before your next act started when a man thought it’d be necessary to grab your ass. Fish Mooney hadn’t scolded the man and told you to shake it off. Oswald wanted to intervene but could tell that that would be a bad idea. After that happened, you stormed your way into the nightclub’s kitchen, Oswald following behind after he made sure Fish Mooney wouldn’t be needing him.

“It can get hard sometimes, I know,” he nodded. “Especially with those losers who waltz in here every five minutes.”

“More like every five seconds,” you scoffed. You reached into your purse and pulled out a cigarette. “Do me a favor and light me up?”  

He looked in the kitchen’s drawers till he found a lighter and brought the flame up to the tip of your cigarette, eyes flickering to your lips and lingering there for a seconds. You leaned back against the counter; taking a long drag of your cigarette and blowing out the smoke. The entire time Oswald couldn’t help but stare at your signature red painted lips.

“Don’t just stare if you’re not gonna do anything,” you giggled, having caught him staring.

“S-Sorry,” Oswald smiled awkwardly at you, blushing.

     With that, you laughed, your diamond earrings shaking. Oswald wanted to ask where you got those since when Fish Mooney made a remark about them, it looked like she hadn’t bought them for you. It made him wonder how you could live in such a shitty apartment but still own something like diamond earrings. When he had first met you, he thought you were a nice, innocent young lady. He still thought you were nice of course, but, his thoughts on you being innocent were now wavering.

Not that he didn’t mind that.

Besides, Fish Mooney had told him countless of times before that bad girls are more fun to play with.

♦♦♦A Week Later♦♦♦

After running off to do an errand for Fish Mooney, Oswald had returned to see you sitting at the back of the nightclub sitting with Carmine Falcone. You had a stern expression on your face: lips pulled back into a tight frown, eyes glancing at the crime boss with disgust, and you kept drumming your fingernails on the table in annoyance.

He sat by the bar, deciding to wait for Fish Mooney there while he also listened in on the conversation.

“I’m telling you Carmine,” you hissed. “I’m not going back to that life. I can’t. I finally have something that’s mine and I don’t have to worry about someone taking that away from me.”

“And you think you’re safe working for Fish Mooney?” He then chuckled weakly. “I don’t think you understand, B.B—”

“No,” you spat, voice rising. “You don’t understand. That’s not my name anymore. It’s (Name). Just (Name). And just because Gotham is slipping through your fingers, doesn’t mean you should try to drag me back into the life I left behind.” You got up from your seat, eyes narrowing down at him. “In case you haven’t heard, I’m singing now. And I’m damn good at it.”

Carmine was left with a bitter expression on his face as you stormed off. When you passed by Oswald, you grabbed him by the collar of his suit and dragged him outside of the nightclub. You both now stood in the alley. Well, Oswald was standing while you were pacing.

“You heard, didn’t you?” you asked, stopping only for a second to look into his eyes before beginning to pace again.

“Yes I did….I’m sorry…” he said quietly.

“It’s fine. The whole goddamn nightclub probably heard,” you rolled your eyes. “That Carmine….Who does he think he is?”

“Well he is the head of Gotham’s biggest organized crime network,” Oswald stated. “It’s no surprise that he acts the way he does.”

You stopped pacing, placing your hands on your hips. “I know that!” you snapped, Oswald flinching slightly. “I worked with the….bastard.”

“Yeah I figured from the conversation you two had. He called you….B.B?”

“It stands for Blue Blood. Sometimes he called me Bella Blue or Bella Blue Blood…” you trailed off, hands dropping from your waist.

“Can I ask why…?”

“Because he would always send me when he wanted to leave someone looking black and blue,” you explained, trailing off after that.

You raked your fingers through your hair and let out a heavy sigh. Oswald thought about where he had heard the nickname before. Now that he thought about it, Fish Mooney had said it once or twice to some of her other gang members. “Watch out for B.B,” or, “Make sure you don’t run into Blue.” That’s what he would hear. This left him confused because if Fish Mooney knew you were dangerous, then why would she let you work for her nightclub?

“Does Fish Mooney know about who you really are?” Oswald asked in a hushed tone.

You shook your head. “No one has ever seen me before. I used to wear a blue mask whenever I was sent out to keep some mouths shut. Some people weren’t even sure if I was a woman. So no, she doesn’t know. At least, I hope not.”

“Well your secret is safe with me, (Name),” Oswald smiled at you.


“You have my word.”

You took a step towards him and cupped his cheek, moving closer until your lips were mere inches away from his. “You’re a sweet man, Oswald,” you murmured, lips brushing against his cheek. “And an adorable one. Maybe you shouldn’t get so offended when people call you Penguin. Penguins are cute afterall.”

You smiled at him faintly before brushing past him back into the nightclub, Oswald being left very red in the face.

♦♦♦One Week Later♦♦♦

After your conversation with Carmine, Oswald had a feeling that something bad was going to happen. He could already picture Gotham up in flames from the war that was approaching but what he couldn’t exactly picture, is where you’d fit in all of this. The gang life was something that you left behind. You had made that clear. Oswald had caught feelings for you ever since you had arrived at the nightclub and these feelings had grown with each passing day. He knew that you were fully capable of handling yourself in tough situations since you worked for Carmine before, but he still couldn’t help but worry.

Oswald was on his way out of the nightclub when he heard the fast sound of heels on pavement in the alley just next to the nightclub. He walked over curiously to see who it could be and saw that it was you. You picked up your long, blue dress that was getting covered in the dirty, muddy alley water and attempted to break out into a sprint. The back door of the nightclub was kicked open and out stepped out what looked to be another one of Carmine’s gang members. He was a burly looking man with large muscles and wore a black button up with jeans.

“Oh no…” Oswald whispered when he saw the man grab onto your shoulder and stop you from running away.

“I said I wouldn’t go back to him!” you screeched, reaching to the hidden knife in your thigh holster.

You managed to cut the man’s sides, making him curse underneath his breath from the pain. You kicked your leg back to get him to release his grip on you but that didn’t help at all. The man only tightened his grip and pushed you against the alley wall, your knife dropping to the floor.

“Looks like you’ve gone soft,” he chuckled near your ear. “And to think….you used to be one of the best. What bullshit.”

“That’s what you think you conniving snake,” you hissed.

He raised a fist in the air and was about to make it hit the back of your skull but you wiggled around in his grasp and moved fast enough to have his fist hit the concrete wall. The pain distracted him enough so that you could stomp on his foot in your high heels. Oswald had enough of standing by so he rushed to your side to pull you away just in time when the man was about to grab you again.

“What’s this little Penguin doing here?” he snarled. “What? Is he trying to protect you now?”

Oswald gave him a dark glare. “Don’t. Call. Me. That.”

“Call ya what? Penguin?” he snickered.

You took a step behind Oswald when you saw him grit his teeth and flick out his switch blade. “You really shouldn’t have called him that,” you smirked.

The alley became painted with splatters of red that soon grew into a pool. Oswald had managed to slit the man’s throat and leave some stab wounds on his body. He reached into his pocket to take out a handkerchief to clean off the blood from the blade.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said, looking up at you shyly. “But then again I’m sure you’ve seen worse.”

“Trust me, I have,” you chuckled lightly. “Listen, thank you for….taking care of that.” You looked over to the dead body that Oswald had dragged into the dumpster. “I really appreciate it. Maybe now Carmine will get the message that I’m not going back to his stupid gang.”

“I doubt it,” Oswald rolled his eyes. “It was no problem helping you though we should probably get going now. We don’t wanna be around when the cops show up,” he laughed dryly.

“Yeah, that’s true,” you laughed as well. “My place or yours?”

“Your place sounds lovely,” he grinned. “I-If that’s alright of course.”

You took a step towards Oswald and reached for his hand, his thumb brushing against the back of yours to feel your smooth skin. His eyes flickered down to your lips and you closed the gap between the two of you. His lips were cool to the touch but strangely enough, you melted into the kiss. You felt his hand cup your cheek to pull you closer and when the kiss was over, you were both red in the face.

“That was my way of saying it’s alright by the way,” you giggled.

“Y-Yeah...I figured that,” he grinned.

This is was a commission request from :iconnalamarietotallyrock: 

I'm so sorry it took so long but I really do hope this is what you had in mind

The song in the beginning is Money, Power, Glory by Lana Del Rey and I must sleep now so niiight
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I haven’t heard anyone call me by my real name in a long time. The flash of fear and confusion at hearing it yelled out across the entire shelter was quickly replaced by the recognition of her voice, and the comfort that she was the only one left who knew me by that name. I sent Mouse to find and bring back Harley, sending my pocket watch with her as proof of my presence.

Mouse is my mouse. Well, she’s a kid. But she’s my mouse. I found her around here recently after I’d escaped the cops’ surprise ambush. I walked in the shelter, buried under some foul scraps of clothes, and noticed her following me at a distance. Once I’d settled down and obtained a spot in the corner of the top floor, she settled in right beside me without a word.

I tried to scare her off by revealing my unmistakable attire and face paint, but her pants remained dry. She doesn’t know who the hell I am. She’s never seen me before. Has absolutely no clue who I am! The miserable little thing hasn’t had access to a radio or television to see everything I’ve done on the news. Lived completely in the dark probably all her life. I don't know. I don't care. Point is, she doesn’t scream at the sight of me, and she’s not afraid of me. Therefore, I figure she was as good as a mini Harley and could be of useful in some way.

I’m glad I gained her as a new pet. With this bullet in my leg, I really didn’t feel like getting up and fetching Harley myself today.


September 10th

He calls her Mouse.

She has short matted auburn hair and a dull gleam in her brown eyes. She has beautiful soft skin under the dirt and grime, but she never wears a smile. She speaks as scarcely as possible, and has trouble looking people in the eyes. She moves quickly and precisely, as if driven by a cautious ebbing adrenaline encouraged by a silently looming threat. The threat of starvation, of violence and rape. Horrible things a girl should never have to fear. Living on the streets has damaged her, but she is still so young and innocent.

I adore that little girl.

Yesterday after she found me, she scampered around the corner and up a flight of stained, eroding, trash-strewn stairs, darting over and around the bodies inhabiting the narrow ascending passageway. I followed her with energy and hope, relief and gratitude.

J was in the farthest corner of the highest floor, crumpled in a slouching sitting position on the floor, looking as exhausted as a fugitive and as pleased to see me as a grumpy old house cat. I didn’t allow him out of my embrace for the next four hours. One of the cops managed to shoot him in the leg directly above his knee and another caught him in the upper arm, an extremely lucky miss from his heart. I have no idea how he was able to escape with those wounds. But that’s Joker for you.

When I fussed over him, he told me that I should have seen the other guys. I can imagine the consequences to messing with such a ferocious fighter.

I made sure he slept well last night. After perfecting his makeshift bandages and gathering more materials for bedding, I let him sleep as I kept watch by the gaping window robbed long ago of its glass panes. Mouse slept a little ways away-- I made sure she was comfortable too. I don’t think she and J have talked together, or even interacted at all. I expected them to have developed more of a sweet little bond, but I have been shown otherwise.

He doesn’t even seem to acknowledge her presence. Even when I was gone I don't think he looked to her for company, although I’m sure she attempted to do so herself. She hovers around but his atmosphere of bitterness keeps her at bay. Mouse knows he is unapproachable, and without acceptance from him, she remains afraid to ask for comfort or care. She has no parents, it’s obvious that they are long gone. I feel like she’s silently begging for someone to just take care of her and protect her.

I talked to her last night. Just a one-way conversation, but I think she is starting to trust me more. I told her that I was extremely grateful for her help.  I asked her name again, but she didn’t answer. I didn’t tell her who we were, she doesn’t need to know. I told her that it was okay to sleep. I wouldn’t let anything harm her that night.

J woke up first this morning, determined to stand up and prove to himself that he was not injured. I forced him to rest by cuddling up to him and lovingly weighing him down, ignoring his demands to get off. I asked him about Mouse, who was a few yards away bundled up in a sorry excuse of a sleeping bag. He said she was exactly that. Just a mouse and nothing more.

It was a warning as well as an explanation.



Harley went out to find some decent medical supplies and some food. She gave me one of her guns after some hesitation, glancing at Mouse as a thought crossed her mind. I assured her I wouldn't shoot the girl, and she relaxed.

She’s going to get too attached. I just know it. When the little twerp started following me, I decided it wouldn't be too much of a hassle, it was just me. But with Harley here now.... this kid is going to become more of a problem than she’s worth.

Well, I promised Harl I wouldn't shoot her. So I guess the kid is gonna stick around for now. Unless she scampers within grabbing range.



She asked me what I was writing. That was probably the first thing she ever said to me. I told her I was writing a hit list, which wasn't true. Just trying to be funny. She didn’t get the joke. She expected me to explain, but I just said “nevermind.”



Mouse crawled closer to look at my paper. Just barely out of grabbing range. I don't know if she knows that or not. Really starting to annoy me. With a grumble, I warned her to keep her distance. She asked about my name, and having heard Harley scream out my real one, that’s what's he assumed I was called. I told her to never say that name out loud again. Kind of blew up in her face, but whatever. I told her it wasn’t my real name anyway, that it was a code name, a secret name. She promised she wouldn’t say it again. She still hadn’t shown one sign of fear, even when I snarled at her.

“So what should I call you?”

Honestly, I don't want her to call me anything. So I didn’t reply.


September 10th

With the money I kept hidden in my clothes, the first thing I did was buy some new clothes. Casual, superfluous, decent quality. I bought some for J too. And even for Mouse. I bought a couple of duffel bags and hid my homeless disguise in mine, folding J’s bag and stashing that in mine as well. Looking like a normal citizen, I went straight to a fast food place and got us a big bucket of chicken. And a small apple pie for Mouse.

Thats all I could pay for. Then I went back home. Not our house that was raided of course, that place has been forgotten as if it never existed. Home is wherever J is, and now that I know where he is, I have a home again.


I gave J his duffel bag full of his clothes and food first, and then I suck Mouse’s things to her form my own bag. She reacted to the warm pie as if it was a small glowing galaxy in her hand. The new clothes were delicately handled as if they were articles of silk from royalty.

I distracted J with questions, discussions, and affection as Mouse enjoyed her new possessions behind a nearby pillar. He said he wanted to get a move on as soon as possible. We didn’t know how soon that would be. He hadn’t tried to stand since this morning. I believe the pain was getting to him now that he’d used up all his adrenaline the previous day.

Good thing I expected this and had bought him some new bandages and pain medication, which he reluctantly accepted. I treated his shoulder and leg, feeling my own blood burn with anger at the sight of his blood soaked on the rags we’d used last night.

How many times had he been shot? Under my surveillance and care, more than my fingers could count. But I’ve only known him for a few years. There were still at least twenty years prior to our relationship full of wounds which I could not fathom. Wounds that I have heard stories about, wounds that I’ve seen evidence of in his scars and never-fading bruises. it makes me sick. It makes me hate the world. It makes me cry. it makes me never want to let him out of my grasp.

Mouse hid her new clothes under her rags like I did, a smart move. But instead of hiding an identity like myself, she hid her clothes from others in the shelter who would forcibly take them from her.

Most of the denizens on our floor are nothing more than corpses. I couldn’t stand the stench for another minute. It ruined my appetite. I don't know how Mouse and J ignore it so effortlessly. I couldn’t stand it. It’s awful in here. No one who is living remains up here because of the sights and smells around us. Perhaps this was why J chose to set up camp here, where no one else would ever want to go. It’s all about protection and detection. The cops would never want to venture this far in the shelter, and they don’t expect us to be crazy enough to reside in here.

But we can’t stay here forever. I surely can’t. We have to get back on our feet again soon. He’s restless and bored, but I promise him we’ll relocate tomorrow. And I feel like offering Mouse the chance to come with us. But he wouldn’t allow that at all.

I feel torn. I can’t leave her in this place. She needs someone to take care of her.



Harley fell asleep first. She didn’t get any rest on our first night here even when I ordered her to wake me halfway through the night so I could take a turn on watch. But whatever. She’s going to sleep as much as she needs to tonight.

And then we’re leaving. I have a bloodlust. I’m bored. I want revenge on those cops. And I want Batman to witness their consequences. Batman. I miss Batman.

I’m sick of being bored.



I’m not going to let Harley get attached to Mouse. She gave the girl some chicken earlier. If you feed a stray, they never go away. The kid has got to go before she becomes a permanent problem.

I told her to. Late that night I told her to leave and never come back. She was awake, but she didn’t answer. I knew she was awake. In the darkness of the concrete room, I told her if she wasn’t gone by sunrise, I would kill her.

Again, she didn’t show any sign of fear. She didn’t move. Hell, the little rat even fell back asleep two minutes later! She’s pushing me to the limit of my tolerance.

I hate her.
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I didn't expect him to black out on me this rudely. "I thought we were in the middle of a conversation here, Twiggers." I turned my amused smirk upside-down and touched his face with my gloved hand, pulling open his closed eyelid with my thumb. His brown eyes didn't react. He didn't blink or wince or execute any reflex he was supposed to when something came close to his eyeball. He was out. Cold as a glacier. I rested my hand on the side of his neck as I pondered what to do with him next.

He was in bad shape. Signs of starvation were obvious as I looked closer at him. He had shadows under his eyes and his cheekbones weren't covered by as much flesh as they should be, not to mention the protruding bony elbows poking out of his malnutritioned arms. His skin was sickly pale when it was supposed to be a soft milk-chocolate shade. The poor thing was dying, if not already dead. But I could feel a faint pulse under my hand as his heart strived to pump blood up to his dehydrated brain. I frowned as I brushed his black bangs off of his dirty forehead. He had a bruise peeking out from his hairline. I didn't see it before. Camouflaging little bastard. My wrist retreated to rest on my bent knee, leaving him alone now. He must have been roughened up by one of the local vulture-ish gangs.

This man intrigued my curiosity. As pathetic and fragile as he was, there was a fighting spirit prominent in the way he didn't give up whilst making a bunch of racket against the door. I looked up and out to scan the alley nestled behind our restaurant. The darkness seemed like it could swallow him up and digest him for dinner. It was crazy (and rather stupid) that he coincidentally made it to our door. The door of the current hideout belonging to Gotham's number one terrorist, The Joker. I smirked again. "Just climbing down the ladder of Hell, are you? Pushing through one terror and moving on to conquer a bigger one?"

I took his lack of response as an affirmative. "Well," I chuckled like a mother scoffing lovingly at her adventurous child. "Don't give up now, little Twig."


"I win again." A hairy hand slammed down a Royal Flush and moved to scoop up the chips in the center of the table. He was glad they chose to pick up Doritos from the supermarket. Dorito chips were his favorite snack. "Malcolm, seriously!? This is the fourth time in a row!" The man to the left of him sneered with escalating annoyance as his tongue yearned for the spicy deliciousness he was deprived of.

The winning man named Malcolm, the oldest and most experienced one of the four Poker players, only smiled, happily relishing in his repeated glory. "Sore loser, X?" A red Dorito chip flew into his mouth and was crushed instantly by his gnashing teeth.

X, having a short nickname for Xavier, averted his jealous gaze and absent-mindedly played with the steel ring in his ear. He had a habit of playing with his favorite piercing when he was unsettled and upset. "Ahh shut up. Enjoy your chips while they last."

The other two men across the table were just as annoyed with Malcolm as Xavier was, and they made no effort to muffle their grumbles or shift their glaring eyes. Malcolm munched on more of his newly acquired treasures. "Oh come on guys, it's just a few chips. You'd be firing a gun in my face if it were actual money."

"True, that." An Australian accent heavily commented on the previously stated fact as Samuel suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "You can't get away with cheatin' if the stakes are higha."

"You accusing me of cheating, Sammy?" Malcolm leaned forward in his chair, exerting some aggression of his own as he defended his masculine pride. This Australian frequently got on his nerves. That damned accent was a constant buzz in his good ear.

"Not a'tall mate." Sam sarcastically raised his hands in submission and sighed, tired of this game. They'd been playing it for the better part of the day, using every piece of food they could find in the building to substitute playing chips. The kitchen was as barren as a desert. Not a crumb was left to be seen. Sam optimistically suspected that Boss and Miss Quinn would be grateful for the tidiness, at least. It was a common perception that the clown duo had their own stash of snacks in their personal living quarters. It was not like this innocent game was going to make them all starve.

Xavier threw his hand of cards in the air above his shoulder with a careless flick of his tattooed wrist. "This game is pointless anyway." He ran his tongue over his rear molars, tasting the lingering essence of the cigarette he practically consumed earlier. The only reason he lived was to smoke, and anyone who took his smokes away from him was asking to also receive an enormous can of Whoop-Ass.

"Hey O! What shou' we play now?" Xavier turned to his buddy, the fourth man, always hidden in his silence, but nonetheless a careful observer. The black-skinned boy didn't reply with a suggestion. Typical. Oliver was only nineteen, and as shy as a hermit crab. Well, maybe "shy" wasn't the right word. In fact, it definitely wasn't he right word. The first time anyone called Oliver "shy" was the day they were burned alive. Oliver had an obsessive passion for fire.

"I'm sick of games! Every one we play always get dominated by Malcolm!" Sam snapped, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms as he pushed with his toes and raised the two front legs of the wooden chair, balancing on the back two.

"Then maybe Malcolm shouldn't play." Xavier glared at the smirking burly man munching away on his precious Doritos. Because Malcolm was the oldest and most experienced criminal of the four, he always had an air of superiority and smugness. he frequently reminded them, his voice dripping with arrogance, that he'd been living under The Joker's dangerous hand for five months straight without getting killed or mutilated. Frankly, the rest of the clown's henchmen were sick of hearing it.

Malcolm scoffed. "Fine by me. It's not like there are any other prizes left to win anyway." There it was again. That little shrug of narcissism. Another chip shattered loudly in his mouth. Malcolm munched and glanced over at Sam, whose expression had changed at that comment.

"Unless you boys got some cash stored somewhere that I should tell Joker about..." He lowered his voice and deepened it in a poisonous threat. It was strictly forbidden to keep anything a secret from Boss. Sam shook his head slowly and stared at his fidgeting hands, thinking about something unrelated to their boredom-busting games. "No..." The Australian muttered carelessly, obviously not guilty of the henchman crime.

"You're thinking of Harley, aren't you?" Xavier's shoulders shook as he chuckled, grinning with sleaze at the man across the table from him. Sam's face exploded in surprise, embarrassment, and rage. "N-NO!" He denied, losing his balancing concentration and slamming the two front legs of his chair to the hard floor, holding the table edge to steady himself. Fear jumped even higher in his chest as he flinched and realized how loudly the THWACK of the chair echoed around the restaurant. Xavier laughed harder at his fumble. "Boss is gonna kill you!" He chanted deviously, leaning forward over the table and snickering with a toothy sneer.

Sam was frozen in fear, guilty of his twinging thoughts of the unattainable and incredibly dangerous woman. "I..." He attempted to defend himself one more time, desperate to keep his life. If Joker knew about his feelings...

Oliver, still as silent as ever, smirked as he eagerly predicted and envisioned Sam's gruesome future punishment. Malcolm's stare of disbelief wasn't helping the tense atmosphere which now engulfed the four men. "You're in love with Miss Qui--"


Each man froze at the feminine voice calling them with piercing sharpness. If Sam had a gun on him, he would have shot himself right then and there. She heard them.


Malcolm was the first to stand up from the table. "Nice knowing you Sammy." He chided, shaking his head with an amused smile and wiping his orange-powdered fingers on his pants. Oliver was the next one to get up, keeping his hands hidden in his pockets as he followed Malcolm toward the back door.

"Ahhh Sam." Xavier laughed under his breath, giggling at the stupidity of his colleage. Anyone who even looked at Miss Quinn the wrong way was shot if Joker glimpsed it. "You might as well fall in love with a lion's kill."


"Who is that?" Malcolm asked, surprised at seeing an unconscious body lying at my feet. Oliver observed from behind the tall brute, awaiting orders like a good unquestioning soldier. I always liked him the best. "It's your grandfather." I muttered sarcastically. "Why do you care? Just pick him up."

Malcolm slowly gave me a look of confusion. I held his gaze, expecting another bothersome question. With an outward jerk of my chin and a lift of my blonde eyebrows, I inquired as to why he was so being slow about my order. Oliver already had the hispanic under his arm, lifting him and adjusting him so he was slumped over one shoulder. Malcolm seemed to come to a conclusion about something inside his head, giving a tiny subtle shrug and a shake of his head as he took most of the stranger's weight off Oliver.

I lead them inside, not flinching as Oliver took care to close and lock the back door behind us, shutting out the world. I strode into the restaurant with rightful assertiveness, the heels of my boots clicking against the stained concrete floor. Most of the old termite-infested carpet in this joint was burned away in a fire a decade ago. No, it was not caused by us clowns, in case you were wondering. The crisp scent of Xavier's time-faded cigarette smoke lingered in the air and wafted up my nose. I breathed in the familiar smell without a grimace.

The counter curving in front of the wall of back hallway which I currently walked down was vacant of any intact wine bottles, but still suitable to be called a bar. The hanging lights above the bar stools were moderately bright but unable to shine to the front windows of the building. This prevented light from leaking out of those boarded windows, also preventing any passersby from birthing a curiosity about what went on inside here. The stairs leading up to the second and third floors were completely unstable and they tended to creak as if they were auditioning for a horror movie. The evidence of their instability? The giant hole my apparently "overweight" body made when I first tried to ascend them. Yep. One hundred and twenty pounds was too much for them to handle. I guess I should lay off the donuts and save them for the cops, huh? Anyway, we never go upstairs. The only room offered on ground level to sleep in in this dump was sort of a suite, built especially bigger and better air-conditioned than the rest. I suspected it was the room of the inn's beloved original owner.

This place was my home. Our home. I was comfortable here as long as J was. Once he wasn't, then none of us were, and we moved somewhere else.

I put up a hand to prevent Xavier from bumping into me as we turned around the back hallway corner simultaneously. He froze and allowed me to calmly push his chest back and clear my path. Malcolm wasn't as gentle as me, elbowing the punk aside as he hauled the stranger in, following my lead with Oliver trailing behind with the stranger's legs in his hold. "Who's that?" X piped, curiously peering to see if he was dead or not. Samuel was sitting rigidly at a table with cards strewn over the surface. They must have been playing again. I flipped my hair as I passed, not giving X an answer or the Aussie a second glance.

"Keep an eye on Twiggy for a second, will ya?" I didn't glance back, gesturing sloppily with my wrist for my boys to stop following me as I stepped down the ledge of the bar area floor into the pit of the dining room. To the left of me, a catwalk extended out from in front of the bar, ending with a curved edge. A slender silver pole rose up from the center of the edge of the catwalk. My stage. I smiled with pride.

I didn't expect an answer, but the three of them mumbled in response anyway. "Yes, Miss Quinn." Toward the front of the big room, through a small maze of overturned, broken tables and scattered, toppled chairs, the door to our room was securely closed, its dark brown wood looking ominously black in the shadows of the distant bar light. The handle was spherical and fitted perfectly in my enclosed palm. The bronze metal was cold, as always. I slipped inside and shut the door silently behind me, disappearing from my henchmen's view into an abyss of hell I could only describe as paradise.


Sam slowly and sheepishly turned his head around to see the door creepily close and click, echoing in the silence of the room. She was gone.

Almost two whole minutes passed before anyone moved or spoke. Boss didn't come out, and neither did Miss Quinn. Figuring he had some time to relax, Xavier fiddled with his piercing, raising his eyebrows at Sam and turning to the unconscious bloke in Malcolm's hold. "So...anyone know who he is?"

"A skeleton." Oliver huffed, letting go the stranger's skinny legs. "Just like the rest of the homeless people in this city." He put his hands in his baggy pockets and sighed in boredom. He really wanted to burn something right now. Fire always gave him a brilliant flicker of beauty to gaze at.

"You got that right..." Sam cleared his throat and found that his own legs had regained the strength to stand. He walked over to his pals and took his turn examining the "skeleton". Malcolm smirked as he stood like a statue holding a dead pigeon. "You're lucky, Sammy. Miss Q didn't hear your little secret."

"Shut up already." Sam hissed. A bullet through his fat head would shut him up. If only it was that easy. Killing another henchman was prohibited unless it was ordered.

Malcolm lifted the man's body up and laid him down on their poker table, giving them all a better view of his face as it was exposed under better lighting. The agony of his starvation was apparent in his unconscious expression. After cocking their heads back and forth and staring at him like puzzled scientists, Xavier finally broke the trance of curiosity and leaned over to nudge the stranger's face with his knuckles. "Hey... dude, you okay?"

"He's dead, you fool." Oliver rolled his eyes, uninterested. X made a face and put a hand over the man's neck. "Nah, he's got a pulse. I think." He wasn't sure if that faint warmth emitting from his throat counted as a sign of life.

They all jumped as a hauntingly familiar door squeaked open, the handle being rotated sharply in one direction and yanked to swing open the dark wood. Their gazes shifted slowly to look back at their Boss.
Prologue: [link]
Chapter 2: [link]
Chapter 3: [link]
Chapter 4: [link]
Chapter 5: [link]
Chapter 6: [link]
Chapter 7: COMING SOON

Playing poker with Dorito chips?!? For the win!!! :iconjokerlaplz::icondoritosplz:

A note on perspectives here: When it is in Harley's, Joker's or the mysterious main character's perspective, it is in first person. (Ex. I was sleepy. Keyword: I)

When it is in the henchmen's perspective, it is in third person perspective. Because they all kinda count as one unit of a character. "The Henchmen", you know?

I might put up some pics of these guys soon. I don't know why, but these characters have really captured my heart over the past few days. I've been sketching them in my notebook :aww:

Xavier: [link]
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She'd turn to look at him, wondering where the days events went by like little droplets falling from a broken faucet.

The city had actually simmered down and the crazy talk had sort of slipped under the sheets. Then inmates found warmer spots and hoped that food would eventually be dropped. Somehow the crazy side of town had gotten it's own place and name, still a mystery to her how this had been managed but then again anything is possible with a city filled with so many cruel intentions.

Then again, everything had gone to shit in nano seconds.

She washed the blood from her hands before turning to look at him, bandages around his torso, blood staining the bed and his ragged breathing getting just the tiniest bit fainter. Harley had done all she could for now, sending out the kids to get the first doctor the could find and get him or her down here as quick as possible but for now, she'' drown herself in cheap whiskey and watch over him. It was a combination of things, a shoot out that was unexpected, a last minute thought to get away to buy time and just get out. He'd taken the worse from it and Harley still feels the ache in her arms from having to basically drag him back to the Steel Mill and he bleed so much, so fucking much.

What was gonna happen then? Batman probably knows where their hiding out by now, J always had a keen sense for squealers and he knew every single one of them by heart.

"You can't leave...You hear me? You can't just take me on this ride and force me off the god damn thing now" She was angry, she wanted everything to just burn apart or at least go back a few hours, tell him that facing Dent's guys wasn't necessary but alas he're he was, fighting with death's door and all she could was pray that the door handle was made of cement. She runs a finger over his lips, smeared red so lovely. "It was you and me, always. Fuck the rest, it's not important"  He stirs a bit, a small cough coming out and staining her hand and by now Harley can't hold back the tears, the slip by as quietly as they can.

"You're...Killing me off too soon, doll" His brown orbs appear in weak flutters. "Thought you liked me more than that" She wants to punch him but of course she doesn't. "Now why would I do something like that J? You know me better" A bit of her thick new yorker accent slips through but he likes it, secretly of course. "Hey, at least I didn't lose an arm, now that would have been tragic" She rolls her eyes shaking her head at his morbid comedy, the one she loves so much. "You're gonna be fine, I sent Dewey and Giggles for a medic, if they aren't here by sunrise I'll just get you to one myself"

He has to admire her efforts, her tenacity, that fucking spark she has that attracted him to her in the first place. "Harl, I don't think you're gonna be able to that" She crosses her arms and looks away. "Try me" And lord knows he has.

"Just give me till sunrise, ok? Just give till then, We've got one of the Tyger trucks hiding in the back and I managed to stop your bleeding so for once J just give this once chance and don't go leaving me like this...Leave me any other way but... not like this" It's scary just how much she means it, how wiling she is to get gun down by Tyger security or Penguin's gang hell she's willing to go up against the Bat on her own with nothing but her fist. "...Ok, fine"

She goes back to looking at him and those ocean eyes are red and puffy like a storm. "Don't die on me..." She scoots her chair closer to his side and her hands are on his face, gently of course. "This city isn't ready to just not have you, B-man won't be as fun anymore and do you really expect me to lead those retarded bunches of oats we call help? I'll end up setting fire to them all" He actually manages to chuckle with a cough though. "Then burn 'em all, get new ones" And Harley actually laughs a little, despite everything she manages to.

"What about me?" She runs her fingers though his bloody hair.
"You'll manage" He stares intently at her and she shakes her head.
"Where's the fun when the laughing partner isn't laughing no more?" He's seen sad looks on her, but nothing like this one.

"Then you laugh twice as hard for me" He wants her to promise, the look in his eyes tells her so.

Even though she doesn't confirm it, she silently promises him she will.

"Just...give me till sunrise" He promises as well.
Part two for Big playgrounds

As you can see it follows the Arkham City plot, with some changes since I didn't want it to be exact and it's way to fit these two properly. Bit sad this one, but in a mood :shrug: It will have a part 3, quite sure the last part.
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  "You leaving, Wally?" Robin asks as Wally runs past him towards the zeta tubes.
  "Yea," Wally replies, stopping to look over his shoulder at him, "Gotta be home for Mothers Day. And I need to pick up some flowers for Mom and help Dad with dinner.  I think my grandparents are coming, too."
  Robin nods at him, a faint smile on his face, "Tell her I said Happy Mothers Day."
  "Will do!" He calls, and he's gone.
  "What's Mothers Day?" Superboy asks as he walks into the room, eyes directed at Robin. "A day for Mothers?"
  Robin smiles at him, walking around the couch to him, "Pretty much, Supes," he tells him, patting his shoulder as he passes, "It's a day where you appreciate your mother and all she's done for you. If  a woman doesn't have kids, her husband still usually does something for her," he thinks for a bit, "Basically just a big way to say 'I love you' to your mom."
  Superboy seems to ponder this for a few moments, turning it over in his head. "So, are you going to go be with your mother then?
  Robin let out a quiet chuckle, "It-Some people don't have mothers, Superboy."
  "Well, for instances," he tell him, walking around and plopping down on the couch, "some have two dads."
  "Like me?" Superboy asks, pointing to himself, "You have two dads, too?"
  "Eh, no," he shakes his head a bit, "sometimes people die. You know that."
  "Your mom is dead?"
  Superboy looks awkward, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand while looking at the ground. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it quickly. Robin smiles at him, "Hey, don't worry about it. It happened a long time ago.
  "But, hey, some people who have two dads will still give their fathers something on Mothers Day. It's really just a day for family."
  "So, are you going to give something to your dad?"
  "I-" he sighs, rubbing a hand down his face, "Yes. I am. You should give something to Superman, Superboy."
  Superboy wrinkles his nose, "And Lex Luther?"
  "If you want to."
  Superboy nods at him, an awkward smile playing at his lips, and turns and walks away.
  Robin waves at him as he goes, then slumps down further on the couch and sighs loudly. He was alone. M'gan is making something to give to her Aunt, Wally is with his family, Artemis is with her mom, Kaldur is in Atlantis with the Queen, and now Superboy is finding something to give to Superman and probably Lex, too.
  He turns a little on the couch, slanting his body sideways to look around the empty cave. With a final sigh, he pushes himself off the couch and makes his way to the zeta tubes.
  He walks around outside for a while, looking around at the trees and the flowers surrounding him. Without thought, he walks to some of the flowers and leans over them. He studies them, head turning to the side.
  He didn't even think about it. He picked one, brought it to his nose, and inhaled it. It was a rose, white in the middle and pink around it.
  An hour later finds him in the Gotham City Central Cemetery, wandering through the isles of grave stones until he stops at one in particular. He looks down at it, the single rose twirling between his left thumb and index fingers. He presses his lips together, wetting them, and speaks:
  "Hey, Mom," he says, "I'm sorry I haven't been around lately, I've been a little busy with school and the Robin gig. I miss you. A lot. And, uhm, today's Mothers Day. I had to explain to Supey what Mothers day even is. He doesn't have a mom either, but that's because he was cloned from Superman. Test tube baby, I guess. Uhm. Happy Mothers day. I love you. I promise I'll visit sooner next time," he turns to the grave next to his moms, "Hi, Dad. Miss you, too. I love you."
  He turns and walks away, twisting his hands together in front of him as he walks. A single tear makes its way down his cheek, and he brushes it away without thought.
  At the gate of the Cemetery stood his best friend leaning on the gate, hands deep in his pockets and hair falling lightly over his eyes. He looks up at him when he approaches him, "Hey, man."
  "I thought you were going to be with your mom today?" Dick asked Wally, stopping just in front of him.
  "Mom said I could be with you tonight," Wally pushes himself off the gate and wrapped his arms around him, "She knows you need me more than she does. Plus, she has my dad and my sister. You have Alfred and Bruce, and he's supposed to be at a meeting tonight. You need me."
  Dick wrapped his arms around his back, burring his head in his chest, "Thank you, Wally," he let out a shuddering breath into his chest, his arms tightening around him. "Bruce offered to stay home tonight, but I know how important this meeting is for Wayne Enterprise so I told him I'd be fine. Alfred and I would just eat dinner together like usual. No big deal."
  "It is a big deal, Dick," Wally murmured into his hair, "You're important, and you can't always handle things like this on your own."
  "It's been five years," he tells him, tightening his arms around him, "It should be easier by now."
  "It takes time," Wally pulls away from the hug, looking down at him and into his pale blue eyes, "C'mon. Lets go to the Manor and eat something, and then we can cuddle until we fall asleep. Sound good?"
  Dick nods, looking up at him and placing a gently kiss to his cheek, "Thank you, Wally. You really are the best."
  "Hey, what're boyfriends for?" Wally replies, kissing his lips gently, "C'mon."
  They reach the Wayne Manor and are greeted by his butler, Alfred, by the door. "Good evening, Master Dick. Mister Wallace, I wasn't expecting you to be here today. It is Mothers' Day, after all."
  Wally offers him a big smile, saying, "She let me hang with Dickie tonight. She understand everything."
  "Ah, yes, of course," Alfred walks them into the kitchen, setting out one more plate and fork for him, "Im assuming you'll be joining us for dinner, then?"
  "Of course."
  The meal ends, and while Alfred is clearing off the table, Dick and Wally head upstairs to Dick's room hand in hand. In his room, Wally falls back onto the bed, pulling Dick on top of him, "Hey, Beautiful," he whispers to him, wrapping one arm around his waist and tangling his other hand in his hair, "C'mere."
  Dick leans down and presses their lips together, one hand resting on his chest and the other cupping his cheek. Their lips part and he stares down at him, his baby blue eyes staring into his light green ones. "You really are the best, you know that? You should be with your mom, and instead you're here with me."
  "I'll always be here as long as you want me," Wally's thumb makes small circles in his hair.
  And Dick connects their lips again, the kiss becoming deeper with every passing second.
When I started this I had the intention to make it humorous, but it ended up like this. Orgionally, the idea was Robin just explaining to Supey what Mothers day is and then Robin suggesting him making a card or something for Lex or Superman and Superboy asks which one is the mother and then gets embarressed by both his fathers because of reasons that I didn't think through.
But im pretty pleased with this.
Lemme know what you think.
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