#on my Lady Shiva Is Jason’s Mom bullshit

[dragonpyre]

And ANOTHER thing! In the Batman comic run A Death In The Family (1989), Lady Shiva, under the affects of a truth serum thing, claimed that she had no children. This is later prove false with the introduction of Cassandra Cain in 1999.

Now we can take Shiva at face value cuz Cassandra hadn’t been created yet. BUT, the fact that Cass exists now makes Shiva a liar to some extent in ADitF. Meaning she totally could have been Jason’s mom and just lied about it/twisted the truth to suit her needs in that instance, leaving the path open for Shiela to claim maternity for unknown reasons.

Which, if you think about, a billionaires adopted kid coming to you claiming your his mom, while you are actively engaging in embezzlement and conspiracy with an international terrorist… real thinker as to why she would agree to that.

[ragingbookdragon]

I’m Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 7

Batfamily x Batsis Story

Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author’s Note: Anyone order a part seven? Cause I got a part seven for y'all. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Ever since the meeting that night, she’d gotten more letters from her family than she’d ever received in twenty-one years. Not that she decided to read them. The first line from Dick’s letter was, ”I never wanted you to leave because of me. If only I’d known…”. She couldn’t keep reading, and she wasn’t sure if it were from guilt, sadness, or anger, but there was something there that she didn’t want to face.

It didn’t stop there though. They kept coming even if she tacked a return to sender on it and sent it back. She’d even labeled one and written, ”Stop writing me.” but that didn’t stop them. Wally texted her every other night on top of the letters and she wanted to strangle him through the phone.

She knew though, that if she could keep holding out for three more months, she’d be home free. Wherever home was at this point. Every city she kept thinking about had some type of vigilante and there was nothing that didn’t; eventually she decided on Coast City. Somewhere warm and sunny, and as far from Gotham and Central as possible.

Of course that little voice in the back of her head just kept telling her to talk to them, but she was going to be as stubborn against it as possible—but time was dwindling, and so was her resolve.

***

“Ophelia, have you seen the extra bag of espresso beans? I can’t remember where you put them the other week.” She waited for a response. “Ophelia?” she turned and frowned. “Why did I accept the manager’s position when I can’t even round up my workers?”

She walked out of the storage and wiped her hands on the rag at her waist. “Ophelia?” A giggle sounded at the counter and when she walked out, her eyes went wide at the sight.

Jason was leaning against the counter with that smile he used to use on the models at the galas. He smiled at Ophelia. “Tell me, what do you make better, the cappuccinos or lattes?”

“Well, I make a —”

“She makes a mean ‘get in the back and find my espresso beans’,” she grunted and both of them jumped.

“Melisandre!” Ophelia stuttered, pale cheeks flushing pink. “I thought you were in the back.”

“I was. Think you can go find the coffee beans you put away?” She shot Ophelia a stare that screamed ‘scram’ and the girl nodded, hurrying to the storage room.

“Aww, why’d you run the cutie off, Melisandre?” Jason queried. “I was going to ask her out on—”

“Can I talk to you?” she interrupted, voice barely containing her seething rage. “Outside.”

Jason shrugged and shoved his hands in his jean pockets. “Sure, but be careful, people might get suspicious.”

She grunted and walked outside, listening to him follow and when the door shut, she turned around and hissed, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just getting coffee.”

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me, Jason. We both know that’s a load of bullshit.”

His eyes narrowed and he noted, “You’ve really gotten comfortable using foul language. You know that, (Y/N)?”

She glared at him. “What. Do. You. Want.”

“You won’t answer our letters,” he shrugged. “Didn’t have a lot of options to talk.”

“And showing up at my job is the better option?” she griped.

“It was that or your house, (Y/N). Take your pick but you can’t have both.”

“Well, maybe my silence is supposed to be the answer to those letters. Did you think about that?”

“I did,” he nodded. “But after the third letter being rejected, I decided to go big or go home.”

(Y/N) growled. “Go home.”

Jason smirked. “No.”

“I’m not fucking joking here, Jason. I don’t want you coming here. Ever.”

“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn,” he retorted then stepped forward and grabbed her wrist. “You don’t wanna talk willingly, fine. I’ll make you talk to me. And if I have to show up here every day, I will.”

“No, you won’t.”

Jason cocked a brow and tightened his grip. “You wanna bet? Because I’m not Dick and I’m sure as hell not Bruce. I don’t have a day job to get to.” He smirked. “I can do this all day.”

(Y/N) bit the inside of her cheek and thought for a moment then sighed and yanked her arm away. “Fine. Come to my apartment after five. We’ll talk there.”

“Thank—”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she interrupted coldly. “I’m agreeing for one meeting and then you fuck off back to Gotham City and leave me the hell alone for good.” She spun on her heel and started back for the door when his voice reached her, tired and pained.

“Do you really hate all of us? Do you really hate us like you make yourself think you do?”

(Y/N)’s feet felt like lead and she stopped, gazing at the glass door. “I don’t know, Jason.”

“Then let me help.”

“You can find the apartment on your own. I know you’re good at looking for homes.” She slipped in the café door, leaving him standing there shocked and hurt.

***

Sure enough, a minute after five o’clock, her doorbell rang and she called, “It’s open.” The door opened and shut, and she looked up from the little kitchenette, watching the way Jason walked into her apartment, gazing around the empty living room.

“Shit, do you live in a home or a prison cell?”

(Y/N) grunted. “Nice quip. Come up with that by yourself?”

He wandered into the kitchen, leaning back against the counter as she prepared dinner. “What’re you making?”

“Chicken marsala,” she replied. “You’re here to talk. Start talking.”

“Are you going to be a bitch like you were the other night or can I ask about life in Central the last three years?” she shot him a glare, warning him, but he paid it no mind. “You going to school?”

(Y/N) nodded. “I go to Central City Community College. Take classes all week at different times.”

“What are you studying?” he asked.

“For now, general studies, but I’m minoring in political science.”

“Planning on a four year after you graduate?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.” Her hands stalled for a moment. “I don’t have the money for a big school to get a bachelors.” Shaking her head, she chopped up the vegetables. “Figure if I can get a job in the area, I can scrounge up enough to start the process though.”

“Might take years,” Jason noted, and she nodded.

“Yeah, hard work usually does.” (Y/N) glanced at him. “What’s Cassandra like?”

He blinked, evidently not expecting that, though he recovered and smiled. “She’s great honestly. Kicks ass better than anyone I know.”

“Even Batman?”

Jason huffed a laugh. “I’m sure she could wipe the floor with each of us if she decided to not hold back. Her mom’s Lady Shiva and her dad’s David Cain.”

“I don’t know who they are but I’m assuming from the tone that they’re not exactly the best parents in the world.”

“No…they’re not.” He agreed. “David didn’t teach Cass how to speak so she’s been mute all her life.”

“I’ve heard the few interviews she’s given,” (Y/N) replied. “She’s very eloquent when she does.”

“Shakespeare’s influence. And probably Emily Dickinson.” He smiled. “I leave her a lot of books to read so I can be her favorite.”

She snorted. “Yeah, that sounds like you.” Sliding the cast iron skillet into the oven, she sat at the crappy metal dining table, Jason taking the seat on the other side. (Y/N) scratched at the table. “Does Bruce like her?” she questioned lowly, and he nodded.

“Loves her like she’s his own.” He her with cautious eyes. “Just like he loves you.” Jason watched the emotion flash across her face, quick as lighting, a deep sorrow, then she was humming.

“Well, that’s good then.” She cleared her throat and looked at the clock. “How’ve you been? I hear a lot about Outlaws.”

Jason chuckled. “Yeah, that’s my band of renegades. Me, Roy Harper, and Koriand’r.”

“Remind me, those were Speedy and Starfire, right?”

He snorted. “Arsenal and Starfire. But yeah, close enough.”

(Y/N) got up and pulled two glasses from the cabinet before going to the refrigerator and getting the lemonade. She poured them both glasses and sat back down. “How’d you manage to wrangle two of the Titans into your posse?”

“Kori willingly tagged along, and Roy won’t leave me alone,” he griped, sipping his lemonade.

“Mmm…and how does Dick feel about you stealing two of his exes?”

Jason choked on his drink, spilling it on the table and down his chin. “That’s not—” he coughed. “That’s not what that is.”

“Uh huh, sure it’s not.”

“It isn’t,” he glowered.

“Riiiiiiight,” she drawled out with a grin, then took a sip and set her glass back down. “Figured you’d get Cass along with you. she seems like she’d be fit for Outlaws.”

He shook his head. “Nah, she’d be better off with Tim and his Young Justice weirdos.”

“She non-lethal?”

“Mhm.”

They dwindled into silence until the timer went off on the oven and she pulled the skillet out and set two plates on the table. “You’re gonna feed me?” he asked as she handed him a fork.

(Y/N) scoffed. “Duh. I’m a bitch, but I’m a bitch with manners.” She smiled sweetly. “But you have to leave afterwards.”

“Mmm…can I crash on your couch?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

He shrugged. “Figured I’d try anyways.”

They ate in silence, occasionally speaking about their lives the last three years, and when the food was all gone and the lemonade drunk, he sighed and reclined in the chair.

“What?” (Y/N) questioned and he shrugged.

“Dunno…I’d like to do this again soon.” His teal eyes found hers. “It’s been too long since we were together.”

“Tread carefully,” she murmured, looking at the wall and he sighed.

“Sis, talk to me,” he begged. “Even if it’s just to tell me how much you hate me, just talk to me.” She didn’t respond and he sighed again, standing from the table. “Thanks for dinner.”

“…I hate that you all put Gotham and every civilian before our family.” Jason stopped dead in his tracks and turned, gazing at her, though she didn’t tear her eyes from the wall. “I hate that the only time I felt like anyone paid any attention to me was when we were at galas and even then, the attention was just for show. It didn’t matter because all anyone wanted to do was get the hell out of the manor and go on patrol. It didn’t matter because I wasn’t like any of you. I wasn’t a part of the real family.”

Tears gathered in her eyes. “I hate that I spent more nights sitting in a dark and silent manor than spending them with my family. I hate that I never had a normal family growing up where we’d go for ice-cream after school and attend school performances. I hate that I got stuck with a bunch of siblings hellbent on giving every piece of themselves to the world and they couldn’t take one night off to have a family night to save their lives. To at least pretend to be normal.”

(Y/N) finally took her eyes from the wall and he felt his heart tighten as the tears slipped down her cheeks and she breathed, “I hate that I was born Bruce Wayne’s biological daughter and I’d give anything and everything I have to be someone else’s daughter and sister.”

Jason’s mouth felt dry, and he didn’t have single thing to say to her and she whispered, “Is that what you wanted to hear, Jason?” she blinked. “Because that’s what I feel every morning I wake up.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, and she cleared her throat, wiping her cheeks.

“Yeah well, I’m three years passed sorry.” (Y/N) nodded to the front door. “You should leave now.”

Jason nodded but his feet didn’t move. For a moment, he couldn’t move them, then he sucked in a breath and started edging back to the door. When he neared the door, he pulled it open and paused, looking back at her. “(Y/N)?” she didn’t answer but he said it anyway. “I love you. More than you’ve ever known.” He sighed and stepped out, closing it behind him.

(Y/N) buried her face in her hands and sobbed alone at the dinner table.

********************************************************************************

Tags!: @itsnottilly @cloudyskylines @starflyer-104 @iwillstaywiththemforever @justine-en @weirdgirlfromtx @notsostraightweeb @candlestudy @willowoo @peterxwade24 @the-atlantic-french-fry @bad-bouquet-of-emotions @vvipgot7be @pure-princess-97 @atomicsoulhumanspy @foreverthefloor @natatawa-ako @impactshawol @bethabear12 @adazzlingsakura @kimhanbiin @thatanonymouschocolate @mischief-writter-24-7 @lostinwonderland314 @elz-zalarrr @lady-of-the-abyss @peqchynero @d3m0n8ch1ld @goldenguki @fallen-wolf22 @battlenix

[iphoenixrising]

hey we haven’t heard anything from you in a while. everything good? How’s life treating you? All my love for one of my favorite batfam writers!💗💗💗

Hi babe.

Ah sorry, I’ve been super busy at work and with kiddo :( I mean, I’m still writing when I can, but it’s just time and motivation. My project has really taken off (reads as: expanded) and most nights I’m chipping away at the massive amount of documentation for not only a Java-based framework, but an entire Platform *sob* So, it’s just such a huge amount of old articles and brainstorming sessions and meeting minutes and just ugh. I mean, it’s kind of interesting to try tracking all these things down and figuring out how they’re going to work together since the developers (from 12 to 50-ish, my God and now they want me to read markdown and do pull requests for comments and shit because this is my fucking life) are still working on the platform services, the development environment, and all these fucking tools I’ve never heard of (Kubernetes, wtf is this thing??) so I’m learning a foreign language almost tbh.

Did I mention *sigh*?

ANYWAY, also some of the things I’m working on that are like Batfam are a little more...I dunno, just things that a bit harder for me I guess, but even if I write just a sentence or two, I still count it as a win.

But like...I said something about a Sentinel / Guide Au, and even though I’m at what would be a good stopping point, I’m not very happy with it :/ So, if you’d like to see kind of what I’ve been doing, I’m going to throw down what I’ve got below the cut. 

Warnings: 

DickTim, Angst

Sentinel/Guide Au

**

After he brings B back from time, send the Dark Knight back to Gotham, he gives in to things long overdue, and trains with Shiva–

–to be an effective Guide.

Years of suppressants made it literally hell without them, trying to keep his shields up, trying to push out the telepathic traffic suffocating him the second he opens up just a crack.

Shiva, of course, had been her cheerfully murderous self, plying him with the full onslaught of a powerful Sentinel.

"You will be drawn to us from now on, Little Bird. You will want to protect us, bring us back from the abyss. If you choose to allow your powers as a Guide rein free, then you must learn to fight against the urges."

The fucked-up part is–

–she's right.

If he wants to stay in the life, wear the cape and cowl under the new name, go back to the Titans (since they've been looking for him again, fly-bys and searches for his tech), then he needs to learn how to deal with what he can do and how to deal with the instincts that come along for the ride.

It's not enough that Shiva is in the middle of hunting down a few former students ("They have made...the wrong choices." 

"That's rich coming from you, you know."

"We all have a code, Little Bird, and I am no different.")

but they managed to run into a few other Sentinels along the way.

He'd like to say he'd taken his ass beating like a pro at this juncture in the vigilante game, but the reality is, they'd had to take shelter in a shitty lean-to, so he could be tragically, metaphysically hung-over.

He gives up the cowl and suit, utility belt and sundries. He goes as a wrecked teenage American boy, changing it up from the last time he trekked behind Lady Shiva and took on her adversaries. He tries not to think about Dick or Jason, Dami or Alfred, tries not to think about the confused look on B's face in his safe house, drying his hair after a long shower, trying to readjust to the current timeline.

("You aren't going back to Gotham?"

"I still have things to do."

"...there's something you aren't telling me."

"There's a lot I'm not telling you."

"Come to me when you're ready, Tim. No matter what, you're always going to be one of my Robins.")

Instead, he learns how to keep himself, and the Sentinels around him, safe and sane while trying to stay two steps ahead of the next fight, the next clue, the next "training."

In Shanghai a few months later, he knows it's time to move on when people part ways for the brightly clad superheroes coming en-masse down the packed street for him.

Well, moving on it is.

Going back to the Tower, away from the Bats and Gotham and the Rogue Gallery (thinking about facing the Joker this raw and open is fucking terrifying), was the best he was going to get considering the circumstances.

Those circumstances being the pointed twitch over Kon's eye and Bart's very intense gaze.

"You were supposed to call, asshole. The OG Batman has been back in Gotham for like months and you've just been, you know, chilling with Lady Shiva?"

Tim, who is so out of bullshit at this juncture, feels better after a hot shower and some old sweats with a Superboy t-shirt, throws up his fucking hands.

"All right, fine. I never told anyone. I...I've been on suppressants since I was a kid, just like my mom. Guides..."

"It's not that bad anymore!" Cassie tries helplessly, the first to actually reach across the table for his hand.

The instant connection makes them both gasp. It’s a shallow one, just a dip under her natural shield (he knows it’s Cissy, the Guide that’s been helping her until now, bringing her back whenever she hits a Zone, recognizes the touch of their Arrowette), just a skim over her immediate emotions  this thing now untried and how utterly calm he makes her just by hands lightly placed. 

"O-ooh," is soft while his fingers tighten, his eyes sharpen, his shields constructing around her, his instinct to protect.

"Not necessary," Gar chimes in, still leaning against the door between the kitchen and communal entertainment room, "we're all good in the Tower, T."

Is what shakes him out of it, hastily pulling away from Cassie's hand.

"Wow." Wonder Girl breathes out, eyes soft and half-mast, looking at him dreamily.

"Nope." Because he can already feel the headache coming on, how her hand tries to grab back at his.

“We could fight better together, Tim!”

“Do you even know how strong a Guide has to be to take care of four Sentinels?”

In one terribly creepy singular move, Bart, Kon, Gar, and Cassie give him that look.

You know, aimed at his face.

"No one," Bart cuts in, eyes wide at the exchange, of Tim's aura warm and inviting suddenly stronger, reaching out... "Tim, T. No one has to know."

The flash of fear, a residual from the tunic, makes him hedge back a subtle step back.

Kon pointedly grips him by the bicep, over his shirt while Bart moves enough that his shoulder bumps into Tim’s ribs, halting the possible escape attempt.

“Okay, okay, backing off. New powers are about a bitch, not like we all haven’t been there once or twice.” Kon soothes over, taking small steps and tugging until Tim is moving with him closer to the communal kitchen where his seat is empty at the island, and they can possibly get proof the guy actually eats.

“Amen,” Cassie throws up a hand and is already digging through the fridge until she finds–

–the last grape Zesti.

Tim’s eyes narrow dangerously on that singular can, his body moving before his brain can take over because he’s sliding on his old chair, the can cold against his fingers, too thirsty for caffeine that he can’t even.

Sure, it’s a trap, but with these guys, at least he knows it.

“I’m very not ready to do anything remotely Guide-like in the field,” the soft ca-saaaa as the can opens. “You want me to sleuth, fight, and strategize, then I’m all for it.”

Bart is just suddenly in Kon’s usual seat beside him, spinning around in tight, fast circles, “you mean you’re thinking about coming back? To the life?” 

“Dude, that would be stellar.”

Tim side-eyes his besties, “it was never in the plan to-to stop.”

“Can’t blame us for assuming, you know,” Gar grins toothily, “no Red Robin for a while, my dude.”

Tim goes quiet, staring down at the can between his hands, shoulders hunched over.

“At least,” Raven’s voice is smooth and soft, comforting, “tell us why now, Tim?”

“Why now?”

“Why begin training as a Guide now?” She clarifies, sliding into the seat across from her, and the coolness of her aura, not a Sentinel, but something purely Raven puts his frayed nerves at ease, makes it easier for him to find the words.

“I turned 18,” and he can’t look at them while he admits to it, “and...and I figured out who my Sentinel is after Ra’s kicked me out the window.” (I was fine going out that way. It was fine. I was saving Wayne Enterprises from the League of Assassins, I was fighting the good fight. It shouldn’t have happened that way...why did it have to happen that way?)

“Oh,” and Cassie’s eyes get huge.

“Ra’s al Ghul is your Sentinel?!” Bart fairly screams.

“No dude,” Tim rolls his eyes and finds his can suddenly fascinating. “It’s...Dick. He’s...yeah. It’s him.”

“I didn’t hear that,” Kon hurries, standing shock-still, “I didn’t hear any of that.”

“Not him,” Bart is gritting his teeth because dammit, why couldn’t Tim have been his Guide? The universe was totally, wholly unfair.

A muscle in Tim’s jaw flexes, his nose pinkening along his upper cheekbones. He blinks watery eyes, takes a deep, deep breath to try and keep himself under control. 

“Yeah,” and Tim sighs a little, the ache in his chest more acutely painful when he thinks about that moment waking up in the Cave, Dick in the Batsuit without the cape/cowl combo smiling down at him, still painfully unaware of the connection drawn tight between them.

(He doesn’t need me. He’s got Babs and Dami. His Guide and his Robin.)

Getting the absolute fuck out of the Manor had been his first order of business once he’d come to, just sprouting whatever placating bullshit Dick needed to hear to let him go without much of a fight (this time).

Finding Bruce and staying the hell out of Gotham hadn’t helped the pull he inexplicably felt, or the pressure of minds around him that had sent him to Shiva in the first damn place. His Guide abilities were overcoming the suppressants, so he was out of time...and out of options. 

Still, even with the training, he occasionally has the dreams at night. Not the usual array of awful nightmares from his real life, Jason shooting him in the chest at point-blank to make sure the job gets done this time, Bruce dying right before his eyes, turning into that skeleton husk Superman brought to them thinking it was the real thing, Damian sneering at him with the katana held high, spitting out how it’s time the real Robin took his rightful place just before bringing the blade down–

No, no, it’s even worse than those.

It’s shadowy hands touching him, the warm wet of a mouth over his skin and scars, gentle voice in his ear telling him how beautiful he is, how much he’s needed, wanted, how it’s not just because of what he is or what tunic he used to wear, it’s all because he’s Tim. He doesn’t wake up when his dream self realizes it’s Dick over him, those blue eyes taking him in, pinning his wrists down to look over every inch of his naked body. He doesn’t wake up when Dick starts preparing him. He doesn’t wake up when Dick kisses him hard and desperate. He doesn’t wake up when the tears dry on his face and their bodies line up.

“Mine,” his dream Sentinel doesn’t even hesitate, “Don’t ever run from me again. Do you understand me, Tim?”

Just before Dick pushes, he wakes up, panting and hard, his instincts going crazy enough that he has to meditate to calm down.

Cassie gently wraps her hand around his shoulder, making sure they don’t have skin-to-skin contact this time. “I’m sorry,” she smiles gently at his frown, “I know you and Dick have had some...issues in the past few years.” But he can read the guilt in her face. Back when everyone thought Bruce was dead and his cape had been yanked out from under him, Dick had sent Cassie to try talking some “sense” into him. She still feels awful for jumping on the same train everyone else had been riding, the ‘that guy is suffering from depression’ instead of believing he might actually be right. 

(It still stings though, doesn’t it?)

He doesn’t say anything back, just looks out one of the big windows and pulls out of her hold to take a drink of his Zesti.

“But,” Gar quickly jumps in, “you’ll stay in the Tower and fight on the team again, right? Like, no more trips with World’s Deadliest Assassins?”

Tim visibly hesitates, pausing with the can up to his mouth. 

Slowly, he lowers it, his eyes taking on a cold calculation that is and isn’t like their old Rob. “Like I said, I can’t be a Guide for anyone, and I mean that. Second, I told you the truth in confidence, so I expect everyone to keep my secret. Third, I’m not anywhere near ready to go to Gotham or face the Bats, so for now, I’m fighting under the radar. If those aren’t acceptable stipulations, I’ll grab some of my clothes from storage and be out of your Tower.”

“Storage?” Kon glances around at the team, “Tim, buddy, why do you think we’d have your stuff in storage?”

“I assumed Dick would already approach you about making Damian part of the team,” his tone is absolutely empty, emotionless. “And there’s no way both of us could be here at the same time, so...” he lets them put it together from there.

The look of utter devastation on Kon’s face makes him feel slightly better.

**

Coming back when Cassie, Bart, and Kon have his back, just like they were closer to the end of their YJ run, makes the transition easier than it realistically should have been.

And it really might just be how low the dose of suppressants are now, or that he feels comfortable stepping into Robin’s role on the team, just with a different name, a different mask. It might just be how Bart has a tendency to hover with that hummingbird energy coming off him even when he’s seemingly standing still, maybe it’s Kon’s TTK pressing at his back even if the guy is across the room, maybe it’s how he and Cassie have leadership meetings where they just binge watch reruns of Gossip Girl and eat ice cream to bemoan their woes. 

But maybe, it’s how he can feel them pulling at his shields unconsciously. Maybe it’s how he can sometimes push back enough, can skim just the edges to get impressions of angry, sad, depressed and gently erect a mental shield without delving deep without permission, can give them the space they need from their intense senses and powers. 

Just another way he can be the regular guy on the team, working under the radar. So much a part of his role in the first damn place. 

He doesn’t realize it becomes something normal until they take the good fight a little too close to Gotham for his liking, but the choices were few and Luthor is such an incredible ass hat that Tim actually plays it down, dresses up as CEO Tim Drake to divert their baddie while the team takes apart his latest weapon of mass destruction on the down-low.

What he absolutely doesn’t expect is to leave the lobby of one of the most posh restaurants in Metropolis–

And walk face-first into Dick Gryson’s chest.

(Technically, it’s Nightwing, but really, this doesn’t make the sitch any better.)

A hand, black with blue fingerstripes, covers his mouth, and the sound of a grapple retracting is a pending oh no that he doesn’t fight the vigilante pretty much kidnapping him off the street in broad daylight. 

He can only thank God it isn’t skin-to-skin contact because his inner senses are flaring this close to the Sentinel, his Sentinel, that he has to grind his back teeth to keep himself in check. He pulls away the second they land it on solid rooftop, shoving his sleeve back to check the team’s status on his hidden wrist computer. 

Mission success! 

“Imagine my surprise,” Nightwing growls, hand on his shoulder to spin him around, “when I find you having lunch with someone like Lex Luthor instead of taking my damn calls, Timmy.”

Stepping out of that hold is subtle because Tim is looking over the side of the roof, adjusting his tie to try putting some distance between them. “I’m undercover. Those are the things people like us do when we’re running an Op, Nightwing.”

Those whiteouts narrow on him, a trick only Dick can really pull off effectively. “None of that tells me where the hell you’ve been for the last year since you left to find Bruce, found him, and didn’t come back.”

His back straightens, eyes looking away when the irritation and heat of anger hits him harder without the nice little cocktail of suppressants and stabilizers, makes his own shields tremble at the burning sear along the edges of his consciousness. 

Instead of saying something he might come to regret, Tim sucks in a breath through his nose and works through the bolt of pain, gathers his shields around himself to keep the Sentinel from unerringly lashing out at him again.

“What the hell are you even doing here? Recon on Luthor? For which nefarious plot?”

A black and blue hand slashes the space between them, “not even important, Tim. So, how about you call your team and tell them you’ve got some Bat business because we? Need to talk.”

“I’m sorry, what now?”

“You heard me. I’ve been trying to get in contact with you for weeks.”

“I sent back your case files, asshole–”

“Not about cape and cowl shit, Tim!”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about right now,” even though he does, he really does. He just doesn’t know why it has to happen now.

Nightwing, however, has had enough of the talk and with a whip of his arm has a bolo out and thrown, his natural speed as a Sentinel might be slower than someone like the Flash, but it still has Tim wrapped up tight faster than he can realistically dodge.

The sight of the vigilante Nightwing swinging through Metropolis with the CEO of Wayne Enterprises over one shoulder would be big news in the city if anyone had been bothered to really look up.

**

The hotel is nice Tim thinks while wiggling around on the bed where Dick pretty much dumped him. His fingers are already getting the bolo loose from around his upper body by the time Dick has the mask off and the Nightwing suit unzipped to flop around his waist.

The Gotham Knights t-shirt underneath is a new one since the old faded one got blown up in that little explosion in the ‘Haven a few years back.

Dick lifts and sets a chair down with a pointed clack, sitting down to watch Tim squirm his way up. He’s got the bolo loose enough to brace his palms.

“What part of I’m in the middle of an OP–”

“Don’t care,” Dick cuts him off ruthlessly, those blue eyes hard and jaw tense. “I honestly don’t give a crap about the Titans right now.”

“Well I sure as hell do thank-you very much,” Tim pulls the bolo off, tosses it across the room with an angry flick, facing his former mentor, former partner, former friend with those old feelings creeping up his throat to make the taste in his mouth coppery and bitter.

“The only thing I care about right now is that I finally caught up to you. The last time I even saw you was that swan dive–”

“I’m aware. Being kicked out of a window is pretty memorable, even for people like us,” he keeps it deadpan, keeps the anger and irritation, the feelings of shit like betrayal and it must have been so easy to throw me the fuck away.

“The point is, smart ass, you left the Cave and haven’t been back. You only answer my emails about cases and bad guys. But when I ask you to come back home, which I have, Tim, I don’t even know how many times, and I get nothing! We need you–”

“Why would I come back to Gotham for you?” Is what spills out of his mouth, something bitter and foul. “You’ve already got a fucking Robin to be your little brother, remember?”

Welp, there goes playing it cool.

But watching Dick jerk back like Tim had landed a physical blow was more satisfying than he wanted to admit.  

“Are you kidding me right now? You’re still angry about that? I’ve explained to you exactly why–”

The irritation in Dick’s tone, obvious disgust when he leans back and crosses his arms over his chest is just about enough.

“You explained it just fine. You made your choice, so everyone just has to deal with it, right? Yeah, that’s really being my equal.” 

Tim makes himself stay deadly calm and cold, moves his legs away from Dick’s to stand and take a few steps away from the seething Sentinel to adjust his tie and try to get his hands to quit trembling. 

“I can’t believe you’re acting this childish, Tim. I’m really disappointed with you right now.”

“Glad we’re on the same page, Dick, disappointed in each other,” but it strikes him anyway in the small, sad place where he held on to the hope they could still work everything out somehow and at least go back to being friends. A small part that’s been slowly dying in degrees, and that last hit is enough to make it so absurdly painful.

(All those years in the R, fighting the good fight, being brothers, having each other’s backs, and it all ends here, doesn’t it?)

“What? I did everything I could do for you! I–”

“If that’s what you want to believe, then that’s fine. I don’t have any reasons to argue with you,” staring at his own reflection in the mirror, seeing the red start to creep over his cheeks, his eyes get overly shiny, Tim Drake straightens his spine and flexes his own shields. 

He keeps himself together enough to turn on a heel and walk calmly to the door.

“Tim, just...okay, just wait. Let’s talk this out–”

He doesn’t even turn, hand already on the knob, just pulls open the door and takes a hasty step through. It’s only the first step, but Dick is still just suddenly there, trying to snatch at Tim’s wrist with a bare hand, managing the brush of fingertips over a pulse.

“Don’t leave like this,” Is the last thing Dick says before the electric shock slides up his spine, the pull to all his senses almost has him on his knees.

The touch has Tim lurching away, jerking his wrist up to cradle against his chest, the red burn of Dick’s emotions beating at his shields harder with just a simple graze.

It ends with Dick still in the doorway, braced against the frame, gaping, and Tim leaning heavily into the wall across the hall, a wince on his face.

Stupid metaphysical connections and shit.

The touch hadn’t been enough to, you know, like bond them or anything, but it’s widely believed True Pairs didn’t even have to touch to get impressions from one another.

“You asshole,” he seethes at that shocked expression. 

“You feel like I betrayed you,” is low and thick, Dick’s eyes a little dazed with what he picked up through the momentary connection, “it hurt you so much when I made Dami my Robin because I didn’t even talk to you, I didn’t trust you. You think I just threw you out of my life. How could I ever do that to you...?”

If Tim was a better Guide, on a higher dose of suppressants, he would have been able to keep himself closed off enough that if they did manage to touch, he could have kept Dick out of his shields, wouldn’t have given him the ability to skim over shitty emotions.

If Tim was a better Guide, he wouldn’t have the urgent need to run.

But welp, here they are.

As the thought takes shape in his brain pan, that he’s in his civilian day-ware and can run down the hall while Dick –still half in Nightwing– is trapped in the doorway, his knees firm and his eyes dart wildly to the side, giving himself away.

And since Dick was Batman, is Nightwing, is a Sentinel, he sees the writing on the wall and absolutely refuses to let it happen. Dick shoves with his arms, darts out into the hallway, makes his suddenly weak knees work enough to shake up Tim’s plan, seizes the apparent Guide, his Guide, in a princess hold and get back before the door even starts to close.

“Put me–!”

But Dick folds his legs to sit with his back against the door, and wraps both arms around the struggling third Robin. He can hold onto Tim better than a bolo anyway. 

The push at Tim’s shields is a pressure he isn’t used to dealing with, and it’s painful to fight against it rather than just let the tentative connection open. His hands curl into fists in his lap, trying to strain against the arms pinning him while concentrating on strengthening his shields. 

He doesn’t realize he’s whispering, “no, no, no,” under his breath. 

“Please,” Dick lays his forehead down on top of Timmy’s head, “please don’t go. Not now. I’m finally...Tim, I get it now. I swear, I get it.”

“...doesn’t matter. Too late.”

“That isn’t fair,” the smallest shift and Dick is breathing against his throat, making him shiver, “I just found out you’re...a Guide. My Guide. We haven’t even started yet. It can’t be too late if we haven’t had a beginning.” It gets worse when Dick breathes in his scent deeply, a noise coming out of his chest.

“We have had a beginning,” he bites out, fists tight, concentrating on keeping his shields strong but flexible, “we’ve had years–”

“And I’m not ready to throw all of that away.”

The pressure against his mental shields finally eases up as Dick raises his head, gives him a little shake to make him look up. 

“You already did, remember?”

“I didn’t... I never threw you away. That’s not what I meant or wanted. Yes, I should have handled things better. I know that now, and I’m sorry I hurt you. I was sorry before, I just didn’t know how to tell you, how to make it better between us.”

Tim’s eyes narrow, and he doesn’t let up in case this is one of those diversionary tactics to put him in a false sense of security. 

(They fight bad guys. Sometimes, they have to cheat, and he wouldn’t put it past Dick to do just that.)

“I don’t know what you think is going to happen here,” he finally tries, staring up into those blue, blue eyes (I trusted you once, and fuck if I’m going to let you do this to me again). “But whatever it is, you’re wrong. I’m not going to come back to Gotham and be your Guide. I’m not going to bond with you because the universe says I’m meant to be some kind of magical counterbalance.”

Dick’s expression crumples, his arms go a little slack. 

“Tim, we’re...we’re a True–”

“I don’t give a fuck about True Pairs, Dick, not anymore. Babs has been your Guide since you both presented. She wants the job, she can damn well have it.”

It’s not a fight to push against Dick’s arms the second time and stand up out of his lap.

“You’ve loved me since the moment you put on the cape, Tim. I know you have.” When what he means is I know now.

“I loved you before that, you asshole, and you betrayed me. You don’t get that chance again.”

Turning away shouldn’t be this easy now that Dick knows the truth, but it is, and the very last parts of him still hoping, still craving, are just as easily–

–wiped out.

Dick’s eyes are watery when the door hisses and creaks upon opening, and it’s an automatic thing, reaching a hand up just expecting Tim to take it.

“Tim. Timmy, please.”

“Good-bye, Dick,” is already fading with rapidly retreating footsteps. At least he can keep some of his dignity because Dick will never know he falls the fuck apart as the elevator goes down.

**

Author’s notes:Here’s why I don’t like this: 1. I want to talk more about why Tim chose Shiva as the Sentinel to teach him how to be a good Guide. Like, I want to explore that dynamic more because I’ve never really had the time or space to write Shiva as we see her in Tim’s Robin run.2. I wanted to go more into the expanded senses of Sentinels and how to - hell, I dunno, make it seem to be a little closer to cannon maybe? Like point out some of Dick’s greatest escapes and be like part of that is due to his Sentinel power. 3. Dick says some shitty things, and I don’t give him any context. Like, at that point, he legit believes he did the right thing at the time, and look! Tim’s Red Robin so everyone wins! But yeah, once he got under those shields, the truth shakes him up. 4. I dunno, this au might not be for me. It doesn’t feel very different from some of my other angsty things I guess but meh. Who knows, I might fix it someday :D 

[miss-choco-chips]

Janet Drake...

...and the time her son went to a Gala for her. But because it’s Gotham, of course all went to shit.

Or, Tim always begged for a little brother. Then he got Damian, and now he’s sorry he even asked.

(Shoutout to my girl @the-quiet-carrotcake who asked for Tim at an event trying to defuse a situation. Ye ask and I shall deliver)

---.---

All things concerned, the night wasn’t going so bad. Granted, he was taking cover behind a turned table to avoid getting shot, desperately clutching Damian’s hand because the kid seemed ready to jump over it and take a swing at the enemy, but… well. He could think of worse scenarios.

For one, Batman could be in town. Sure, it’d be better, in this circumstances, to have the Dark Knight crashing through the crystal roof to put and end to -a quick glance over the table- Two Face’s scheme of the night, but hey, bright side, he didn’t need to worry about Damian and his father meeting yet.

Also, Dick and Jason could be here, caught in the crossfire with all the other party attendants. As it was, Tim was fairly sure they’d be showing up soon, in a completely different suit, and since the whole ball room was now decorated with bullet holes, the party would have to be cut short. Score.  

Also, mom would freak out once she heard Tim had been caught in the middle of a shooting on the one party she asked him to go to in her place, and thus would never ask him to endure this torture again. 

On the flip side… Damian was no longer holding his hand. 

He jumped over the table without a second thought, cursing the kid under his breath, totally exposed to projectiles but desperately needing to make eye contact with the brat, even if just to murder him with his glare before dying.

As expected, Damian was sneakily making his way closer to Two Face’s goons, who were speaking about some new law the mayor was planning to make, and how half the attendants were possible votants on it passing or not… or some bullshit like that. Tim couldn't focus on them now, okay, he had a very dangerous, very stupid pre teen to capture and drag back to safety, assassin trained or not.

Of course, that was the moment another Rouge choose to make her appearance. What the hell was Poison Ivy doing here? 

A little to his left, he watched a businessman, Mr Withyork shrinking into himself, trying to look as small and unnoticeable as possible. Wasn’t this the dude planning to build a mall on a wasteland a little south to Diamond District? Since wildlife had flourished there, it was no wonder Ivy had some opinions on the matter. Also, if Tim remembered right, this particular man was one of the confirmed votants that would reject the law passing, which went along with Two Face’s preferences.

For a full minute, the goons and the plant lady just looked at each other, completely stumped. It wasn’t often that one Rouge’s scheme clashed with another: the same man they had to protect, she intended to kill.

Looking at the half cooked goons, and then at the majestic plant goddess, Tim had a hunch on who’d win if they ended up crossing blades. 

And Damian was still inching closer to the criminals.

Fuck it all to hell.

-Emm, Doctor Isley! 

The entire room went dead silent. Damian, directly behind one of the goons, dropped the knife he had managed to smuggle in despite Tim’s careful check before leaving the manor. He was staring at Tim like one would a bunny who jumped directly between wolves fighting for territory, offering itself as a snack for the ravaging beasts. 

It… wasn’t so far away from reality. But it was all his fault for making Tim take action to keep him safe, and he told him so with a glare before returning it to Poison Ivy, the obvious prime predator in the room.

Well, he already started…

-If you’d allow me, Doctor, I might speed this thing for you, no need for you to dirty your… -he looked at the vines, slowly and steadily making their way to Mr Withyork- babies.

Ivy raised an eyebrow, casually swinging her hips as she made her way to where he was standing, on the middle of the empty dance room, holding himself tight to avoid the disgrace of shaking. Men and women watched from behind their covers, some gasping at the inevitable slaughter they were about to see, but not moving a finger to help him. The only one looking kinda relieved was Mr Withyork, since Ivy’s vines left their path towards him to tangle around Tim’s ankles. It didn’t hurt, but it was a clear warning: don’t run.

He did his best to keep his eyes on her, despite the fear icing his veins. Looking somewhere between her mouth and eyes, not daring to let his gaze rest on either for long, and absolutely refusing to allow them  to wander even lower; that was a death sentence waiting to be signed.

She hummed appreciatively, stopping just in front of him. Tim could barely make out Damian’s silhouette in the background, stealthily taking the weapons on the goons slacked hands. Everyone’s gazes seemed to be on Tim and the ruthless criminal he was currently trying to persuade. 

-So polite -she noticed, tilting her head and twisting her body slightly, the new posture making her chest area more prominent. Tim kept his gaze firmly above the chin. She smiled, and if he were a smaller (dumber) kid, he’d think her charmed-, and a gentleman, too. What are you, eleven? Ten?

He swallowed, hard.

-Thirteen, Doctor. I’m small for my age, I’m told.

She made the little humming sound again, eyes scanning him up and down.

-Well then, I’m waiting. You said there was a way for this to end peacefully. I don’t mind the other way, but for a little thing like you to speak up… You deserve to be heard, at least.

Tim stood straighter, breathing deeply. His head wasn’t already rolling, so it was a good sign, right? She seemed amused by him, at least.

-Drake… Drake Industries is looking into real estate, to build a green area. To… to help against pollution. It’s, ah, a charity I talked my mother into creating… Mr Withyork’s wasteland would be perfect for this endeavour. Would that be okay with you? I can assure you, on my life, that we’ll make sure to protect any and all wildlife within those bounds, and…

He started to stammer when Ivy’s face came closer to his, examining him silently. 

-I could just kill anyone who tries to build something there -she purred-, no need for you to worry your pretty little head over it, child. 

He swallowed again.

-But… but then your plants… they’d be stained with blood and body parts… -he tried, nervously looking behind her. Damian was slowly inching closer to him, apparently done with taking the unsuspecting thug’s firearms.

-Good fertilizer -she shrugged, unbothered, but still too damn close. She seemed to find amusing Tim’s desperate attempts at looking anywhere but her chest, which she had purposely put directly on his field of vision.

-But… Damian! -he shouted abruptly, noticing how said brat was now just behind Ivy and brandishing a dagger. Quick as a whip, he reached past her, took Damian’s arm in his and dragged him behind his own back, using all the training he received from Nicole’s friend, Shiva, to smoothly disarm Damian and hide his weapon on his own coat, without Ivy noticing it. Good thing she was so close, then, since her own vision field was thus reduced.

At Ivy’s arched eyebrow, he quickly changed tracks. Turning and hugging Damian’s head tightly against his chest (to keep him from speaking), he raised his eyes to the criminal with his best cow eyes, the ones that more often than not got his mother to surrender.

-Damian, my cousin… he’s… he’s so young, Doctor Isley. Please, I just… I want to keep him from seeing something like that for as long as I can.

Said innocent lamb started to furiously fight against Tim’s hold, undoubtedly with something to say to that. Tim bent his head closer to him, whispering into his ear.

-Stay still and keep quiet, or I swear to whatever God you answer to that I’ll leave you to fend for yourself against my mom once this is all over with.

Damian froze. Tim looked at Ivy again, one hand carefully stroking Damian’s hair, eyes widened with surrow.

The woman clinically analyzing them seemed to rethink her opinion on Tim, head tilted in confusion. A spark of warmth lightened her eyes like a poisonous flower.

-You are a brave little seed, speaking up like that for him -Ivy mused, eyes twirling. She gave him a smile-. Fine. I’ll allow that scum to live today, as long as he sells the property to you, and you give it the promised use. If I find out you are lying…

-I’m not -he blurted out, letting Damian go but taking his hand hostage, making sure to keep his grip irontight. The little shit better not run away again; Tim doesn’t think he can face off against another criminal today-. Thank you so much, Doctor Isley. 

Ivy grinned, a little charmed despite herself, and looked over her shoulder to Two Face’s thugs.

-I’m done here. Tell your waste of space boss to not meddle in my business again, or else.

‘They never did’, Tim refrained to say. The moment she stepped into the room, they had put a halt to their actions, and even before that, it’s not like they were there to specifically target her. But still, mom didn’t raise no dummy, so he kept his mouth shut, head bowed to the Rouge.

He startled, taken by surprise when he felt her hand reaching behind his ear. Damian made an aborted motion to shove her away, and Tim was quick to hid it by twisting his body in front of his, acting as if he were looking at his reflection on the window by their right. He could hear Damian growling at his back, but better pissed than dead.

There was a flower, on his hair. Pretty big, blue with some grey splashes, and a touch of golden pollen. The contrast against his dark hair was startling, but it did look good with his eyes. Briefly, he wondered if it was poisonous, and just how pathetic it’d be to die because of a flower.

-There, little seedling. If you ever want to venture into my domains, that should assure none of my babies eat you before you can reach me -and with that she stepped away, letting her plants take her through the broken window she had entered by.

He had survived. Miracles of miracles. And judging by the shadows he could see about to break through the crystal roof, Nightwing and Robin were here already, so the thugs (disarmed by Damian, not that they were aware of the fact yet) were mostly done for.

This was as good a moment as any to faint, he guessed.

Everything went black, the last thing he heard being Damian’s scared shout. Even unconscious, he never let go of the little shit’s hand.

[dalekofchaos]

My problem with DCEU’s Birds Of Prey

I was excited that we are gonna see Black Canary, Huntress and Montoya as the Question and possibly Barbara as Oracle and Cassandra Cain’s live action debut. But then I read the rumored synopsis.

"After splitting up with The Joker, Harley Quinn and three other female superheroes – Black Canary, Huntress and Renee Montoya – come together to save the life of a little girl (Cassandra Cain) from an evil crime lord."

Okay if this rumor is true. I honestly have no interest in this movie. 

It is rumored that Black Mask will be the villain of the movie and are you serious? Do you honestly expect me to believe that Black Mask can subdue and hold Cassandra Cain hostage? It would be ONE THING if this were Lady Shiva or David Cain. But Black Mask? Cassandra Cain would absolutely DESTROY Roman Sionis. The mere thought that Cass needs saving from Sionis is preposterous and idiotic. This is how you’re gonna introduce Cassandra Cain, the best Batgirl, Bruce’s daughter and one of the best combatants in the DCU? What the actual fuck are you even doing?

Now to my issue with Harley.

“Harley joins The Birds Of Prey” Let me stop you right there. It is already canon in the DCEU that Harley Quinn helped The Joker murder Jason Todd. Do you honestly think Barbara and Helena would ever accept Harley’s help? Do you honestly think there is a force alive that could stop Helena Bertinelli from killing Harley Quinn for what she and Joker did to Jason? And if DC chose to keep Zack Snyder’s bullshit of Dick being the Robin who died, do you fucking really expect me to believe Barbara to ever accept Harley Quinn’s help if Dick was the Robin who died? The mere concept that Barbara and Helena would ever accept Harley’s help after what Joker and Harley did to Jason is complete and utter bullshit. Harley has already shown in Suicide Squad that she’s a villain. “We’re bad guys, it’s what we do” Harley and Joker are in love in these movies. Harley willingly went home with The Joker, showing that she loves him. Whether Margot Robbie, WB/DC likes it or not The Joker and Harley love each other.

And now I need to address the real problem I have with how DC treats Harley. 

Harley Quinn is a villain. 

Harleen Quinzel chose to become Harley Quinn.  Harleen Quinzel was not tortured or thrown in chemicals to become Harley Quinn. Harleen Quinzel fell in love with The Joker in therapy. There is a large portion of manipulation on The Joker’s part, but it was Harleen’s choice to become Harley Quinn. She’s not a victim of The Joker’s madness, she chose to become who she is.

Their relationship isn’t one sided abuse it’s an on and off again relationship. The Joker and Harley are both insane and dysfunctional, there is no way this can be a normal and healthy relationship because that is the complete opposite of these two characters. No one is saying the relationship is healthy nor do I suggest it to be healthy or a relationship to strive towards. It’s meant to be a violent, unstable relationship. It’s also fictional. It’s a fictional relationship between two horrible, demented murdering clowns. To pretend the relationship is a run of the mill one that’s portrayed as healthy is just preposterous. Same with pretending the relationship isn’t also filled with a sick, twisted romance. Romanticizing Joker/Harley isn’t the problem. The problem is encouraging the behaviors, which no one is. And I love them together, they are like the psychotic clownish super villain Bonnie And Clyde. The Joker DOES love Harley, he is incapable of showing it normally because he has never felt love for anyone and because he’s trash. If he didn’t love Harley he would have killed her ages ago, if all he needed was a way out of Arkham, Harley would have been killed.  He tries to kill her to push her away because he thinks that romance is a distraction and alien. Really, Joker sees Harley as the perfect partner. and this is according to Harley’s creator Paul Dini, The Joker himself Mark Hamil and Harley herself Arleen Sorkin “He loves her as much as he can. He loves her in his way.” -Paul Dini “…That, to me, is kinda their private life. Joker opens up and in those moments he is whatever he is at his core and all his demons come in. And the only one he trusts with that is Harley, or Harley’s the only one who knows how to deal with him in those moments.” -Paul Dini “Expressing emotion in any way that’s real and meaningful is alien to The Joker, but he’s learning those parts of himself, however unconsciously, through Harley.” -Mark Hamil “Everyone else sees The Joker laugh; only Harley has ever seen him cry.” -Arleen Sorkin She’s completely and utterly obsessed and in love with The Joker. She loves Ivy too, but her heart is primarily with Joker. Hell there was a comic where Joker was all nice and sweet to Harley and eventually Harley became bored and tried to get the old Joker back. Harley is in love with the mad clown, Harley wouldn’t have it any other way.

Harley Quinn is not a hero nor is she a anti-hero as DC has been trying to reshape her as. Harley Quinn IS A VILLAIN! Harley is not this role-model, she is a psychopath and a villain. Harley is not as psychotic as The Joker, Harley Quinn can be just as dangerous. Harley isn’t this precious baby, she isn’t a precious teddy bear and she isn’t someone to coddle regardless of how much you love her.  She doesn’t need to be protected from The Joker when she’s a super villain who has murdered her fair share of people and can hold her own against The Joker. She’s also crazy exuberant and peppy. She’s lighthearted evil.

Harley Quinn isn’t a pushover or defenseless cinnamon roll “that must be protected at all costs”. Harley can defend herself and kick Joker’s ass, she can hold her own against Batman(Harley came the closest to killing Batman) or any of the rouge’s gallery and she can fought Mercy Graves and she won that fight!

Harley works best as a second in command/follower. Why?  Because she became a villain in the first place to follow someone. And she as a villain only follows two people, Joker and Ivy. She has no motivation if she’s not following someone else, and her character is not meant to be heroic or quirky. She’s obsessive, lovesick and is solely devoted to her two loves. She kills for Joker and Ivy, she steals for them, she collaborated with them. If she’s not with one of them, her heart isn’t in it. And having her own solo series had rendered her into just another generic female anti hero. And since she was created to be a sidekick, she really works best in small doses. Trying to overwrite her character weakens the complexities of her.

Harleen Quinzel did not come to Arkham Asylum to help people. Harleen was power hungry and saw the inmates as a get rich quick scheme for a book and wanted to be the one to understand The Joker’s secrets and what made him what he is. In her own words. “I’ve always had an attraction for extreme personalities, they’re more exciting more challenging. You can’t deny there’s an element of glamour to these super criminals.”

Harley’s dad was and is a con artist. He’s been in and out of jail, constantly cheating on Harley’s mom, duping rich women for everything they have. Growing up in Bensonhurst around her constantly cheating and lying father, being left in squalor with her bitter mom and slacker brother, Harley vowed she’d be different, make a difference and actually be somebody. But it’s the classic tale of growing up to be what you hate. Harley loved cutting corners like her dad, though I imagine she always justified that to herself by saying she was actually going to make a difference, unlike her con artist father. And then she also became her mother, by falling in with The Joker, who is scarily a lot like her father.  

Harleen Quinzel  was already traumatized and unstable from her fiance committing suicide right front of her but went into Arkham right after that anyways because she wanted to study the inmates from Arkham Asylum and wanted to study The Joker so she could be famous for  learning his secrets, which we all know what happened. I would say the madness was already in Harley just buried underneath, The Joker just helped it surface.

Like it or not The Joker and Harley are made for each other. Harley’s entire character is built around The Joker. The only way Harley would ever be free from Joker’s influence is if she stripped away the clown aesthetic, stopped calling herself Harley Quinn and became Harleen Quinzel again.  Harley is supposed to be obsessed with the Joker and no one else, she was created for The Joker.  In my opinion, taking away the obsession a character is literally built around will not improve it.  Everything would have been different if Harley hadn’t been built around the Joker, but she was created for him, therefore taking her away from him not only is out of character, but is also bad for the character itself. Joker, like it or not, was and still is what made Harley a special, complex character. Harley Quinn does not work without The Joker and does not work by trying to make her a hero or an anti-hero. She was created to be a villain and taking that away does not work at all

The issue with Harlivy. I love Harley and Ivy together  but I hate what The New 52 and Rebirth and  Jimmy Palmiotti & Amanda Conner have turned them into. This has to do largely because Poison Ivy is no longer Poison Ivy. In the New 52, Poison Ivy is no longer an eco-terrorist/feminist, she no longer hates humans, she has no character and is just a cardboard cutout who is Harley’s love interest. And if you hate Joker/Harley because it’s an abusive relationship that’s fine and dandy but do not act like Harley/Ivy are the perfect girlfriends. Both relationships are not good for Harley. Ivy is abusive and manipulative of Harley. Ivy has beaten Harley, guilt-trips and manipulates Harley to abandon Joker for her, and further toys with her mind, restricts her daily life, and threatens her if she ever shows any interest to leave Ivy to go back to Joker. Ivy has poisoned her, left her for dead, had fantasies about strangling her, and all because Harley annoyed Ivy and either messed up their plans or put her plants in danger. Ivy is not the perfect girlfriend for Harley that the fans choose to picture, Ivy is a super villain who has no regard for human life, Harley is the only exception, but even sometimes Ivy wants to kill Harley and has tried many times to do so. She is not the character The New 52 and Rebirth keeps telling you she is. I love Harley/Ivy but the New 52 and it’s fans have pretty much driven me away, I love them in DCAU and in the pre-DCU but I do not ignore the abuse.

I don’t think some fans love Harley. They are in love with the idea of who they think Harley Quinn is and they reject the previous universe/classic version of Harley. Fans are willing to accept the New 52 version over classic. In the New 52 Harley is no longer the villain we love. She’s a looney toon female deadpool. I love that they made Harley/Ivy a thing but the writers do not understand either character AT ALL. It’s sad really. A character who is so well written in the past but instead the majority of her fandom prefers a watered down version that is not her, but a generic Deadpool clone and prefer to have Ivy be totally out of character just so Harley and her can be in a relationship.