you ever think the greek gods have like meetings once every few weeks and its just like the gods with distinct jobs like demeter, persephone, hermies, hades,zeus,poseidon,apollo,helios,ares, hypnos and like aphrodite and its just like
hermies: all week the same mortal has been preying to me offering divine offerings all to see his beloved again and he keeps begging to receieve a message from beyond the grave i have accepted the offerings so i think i might be obligated to give something to show i heard.. i was thinking perhaps a dream with the likeness of there beloved hypnos can that be done
hypnos: that is an easy task but not if you require it to house the soul that requires paperwork
persephone: on the subject of the mortals mother please stop freezing the lands and murdering the crops i keep getting petitions from the mortals mother begging me to make up with you please i am merely spending time with my husband at least be fair and give one side of the mortals lands a break i am tired of greeting souls that are disgruntled
demeter: by husband do you mean jailor dear?
hades: here we go
demeter: you stole my only daughter
persephone: mother i am not stolen please be reasonable and technically he did get zeus's permission
demeter: ah yes as if cutting my daughter in half is so much better
Persephone: come on mother be reasonable
demeter: fine i suppose i can allow some of the mortals to keep there root vegetables and a few berries for color
persephone: thank you
demeter: speaking of poseidon the mortals keep preying to me about drowned lands due to the floodings of the tides they have offered me a quarter of there harvests for the rest of the year if only something would grow from there ruined soil would it trouble you so to tone back your aggressive waters
poseidon: i have not drowned any lands?
demeter: no then why am i recieving such preyers?
poseidon: oh perhaps it was my storm
demeter:...
poseidon: apollo could you give them a bit of a clear sun to help dry there lands
apollo: very well, speaking of helios it seems we are sharing offerings jointly again the mortals have jumbled us up.. so this time it was alot of cheese made from cows milk in return there asking for longer days that would upset the cycle so perhaps we just give them like a nice morning?
helios: we could just bless there livestock there cows specifically
apollo: that works, and hermies do you think you could remind the mortals that if they require there prophecies read to go to the oracles of delphi that is why they exist i cannot answer every prayer for prophecy and fortune and the oracles of delphi are selective but i carry much i think they have forgotten it
hermies: i will disguise myself as a travelor upon my next visit to the mortals and relay the message
apollo: thank you they've been trouble some as of late
hermies: speaking of there seem to be many travelors as of late many offering me there most prized possessions for safe passage out of areas with strife, ares has any of the mortal wars caused wide spread famine they keep asking me for safe travels and food so they will not starve
ares: there is one blockade i suppose i can give the mortals an idea of how to ration there food better and how to remove there enemies swiftly
hermies: perhaps just a path out of the war? a neutral ground could be established?
ares: i will think on it
aphrodite: many of the mortals seem to be preying to be reuinited with there lost loves and family members, hestia you are the hearth would you be interested in a collaberation ofcourse id share my offerings with you as payment
prompt: In your old London loft, you find an old spoon, and a letter from 1897 claiming the chimney makes objects vanish. When you drop the spoon and a note down the chimney as a joke, they disappear without a sound. The next morning, a bewildered reply arrives from 1897, demanding an explanation.
prompt credits to: @writing-prompt-s
The afternoon had gone grey and miserable in that classic London way: fog thick enough to chew, rain pelting the cobblestones, and wind rattling every window frame loose. It was the kind of day meant for staying indoors with a pot of tea and pretending the world wasn’t on fire.
At least, that’s what John would have been doing if he were any normal bloke. And unfortunately for him he wasn’t.
Instead of enjoying anything warm or remotely comforting, he was knee-deep in old boxes, rummaging through years’ worth of forgotten shite, praying that something in there might be worth a few quid. Rent was due in three weeks. Normally he’d skip town, vanish into the smoke, and let the debt collectors tear their hair out. But that was hard to do when several of them were already sniffing around, and this dump was the only temporary lodging he’d managed on short notice.
So here he was, Constantine: occult expert, chain-smoker, part-time con man, full-time disaster, sorting through crap like an exhausted charity shop volunteer.
Tonight he was supposed to investigate a few “mysterious deaths” which could be anything from a demon to a poltergeist to some particularly pissed-off spirit, and the case of a certain elevator that people entered and simply… didn’t come back out of. Temporal rift, he thought. Probably. If the universe was in a good mood, the missing folks were alive in some alternate dimension. If the universe was feeling like its usual petty self, they’d gone back in time. And at that point? Not much John could do, aside from sealing the rift. If it was a dimension, he knew a few tricks to yank the unlucky bastards out.
By late afternoon he’d sorted most of the antique rubbish into piles: “somewhat profitable,” “garbage,” “garbage I can con someone into buying,” and “sentimental shite.” There was one last pile , “cursed shite” and a final pile he labeled “super cursed - deadly shite”, he stared at it with a long, tired sigh.
“Right,” he muttered to no one at all.
The entire floor of the living room was drowning in his clutter. Constantine grabbed a black trash bag and started shoving anything even remotely pawnable into it. The news droned in the background, rambling on about how the world was going to hell.
John barely heard it. His world had been there for years.
…
John sighed as he stood up surveying his work, everything was in garbage bags, at least the profitable shit was in garbage bags. The rest? Just tossed back onto any hard surface tables, chairs, counters, his desk, you named it, it was covered. John might have been a mess but he didn’t care for tripping over his own useless crap. He shoved a few trashbags out of the way a few rustling as if protesting the motion. “Yeah yeah fuck off”, he grumbled at the objects kicking the shite to the side. As he finally got his floor back he noticed something odd sticking out of the floor board.
Now he had two options, leave it the fuck alone, or investigate.
Right he thought to himself wouldn’t be John Bloody Constantine if i started leaving shite alone now, would I?
He crouched down low to get a better look the worn hardware floor creaked beneath his weight. As he got closer he noticed something shiny poking out of the floorboard, or more accurately he noticed the floor board just one not quite laying flat. John stood and trudged into the kitchen ignoring the cold of the hardwood or how the cold was bleeding into his socks. He wrenched open the middle drawer near his stove and grabbed the flathead screwdriver, it was likely left behind by who ever lived here before him. John didn’t really care he was just happy he didn’t have to go prying up a loose floorboard with his damn hands or a butter knife. He had one too many scars from such ventures he didn’t need another and he sure as hell wasn’t going to a hospital because he sliced himself bloody because of a floorboard. No way in hell was he explaining that to a nurse. He had better shite to do or at least thats what he liked to believe.
He went back to the mess in the living room and whatever weird little mystery that waited beneath hardwood. John sighed briefly hoping that the damage he was about to make to the floor wouldn’t cause him to lose his damned security deposit he was already short on cash. He really couldn’t afford to lose that as well.
Some days it really felt like he was hemorrhaging money more then the average drunk or addict. Even when he tried to do good hell even when he did do good it rarely if ever paid. Oftentimes john was stuck wondering if its even worth it continuing his line of work when it often left him penniless and usually friendless. And the few friends he did have have were often ghosts, had there foot halfway in a grave, or no longer wanted anything to do with him. Which he couldn’t really blame them for that he knew he was a bloody mess and oftentimes a difficult bastard with questionable morales its usually better that they bugger off that way no new deaths could linger against his conscience.
He crouched back in front of the floor board and carefully shoved the screwdriver into the small crack working it back and forth. The wood let out a long croaking sound as if protesting against the force he was using. He held the screw driver like a chisel, “right to hell with the security deposit then”, he murmured and grabbed the nearest heavy object which happened to be a random stone statue he got from a buddhist years ago as thanks. Yeah john accepted it but he would’ve preferred cash but whatever bit hard to demand cash payments for saving someone’s life. What was he supposed to do go “hey so your about to be swallowed whole by a demon that’ll be 100 quid would you like to pay in cash or check?” Yeah that’d go over great he thought bitterly, as he slammed the statue hard into the driver the wood immediately splintered slightly the floorboard immediately popped loose. He set the screwdriver and statue aside and moved the floorboard over and ofcourse it was a faulty board some sort of secret opening inside.
He reached inside and vaguely hoped nothing would try to bite and otherwise kill him. He really didn’t have time today and he was fairly certain if he did it right he could get his deposit back if he replaced the board just right. His hand brushed against old paper and what he guessed was likely dust bunnies. And then something metallic he scooped up both things and gently pulled them out.
He blinked at his now grime covered hand in vague surprise and confusion. Someone really went out of there bloody way to hide a old spoon and a letter. John stared at the contents looking betrayed and just done. He nearly lost his security deposit for this?!
Still he already committed to it he might as well bloody see what the hell it said he walked over to his small kitchen pulled out a cheap wooden chair that screeched every time he dragged the thing back to sit at the table. He sat down and turned on the desk lamp, yes he kept a desk lamp in his kitchen for his work there often wasn’t enough light. Upon further examination the letter was dated November 1897, the fuck john thought. How the hell did this bloody thing survive this long in the damned floorboards with a spoon which he guessed was from the same date? Again who the bloody hell hides a letter and a spoon in the damn floorboards?! Which if you asked john that was a question he never thought he’d have to ask muchless even think. To be honest it wasn’t something he ever thought would happen but here he is with a perfectly sealed letter from november 1897.
He grabbed a letter opener from the table and gently popped the seal on it.
It read as follows.
"Dear tennant or whomever stays or lives in this loft.
You may have noticed already that this loft is very very very weird. Odd occurrences keep happening here please take this letter as a warning, if you have anything of value or anything you value yourself keep it away from the fireplace and chimney. Things that fall down the chimney disappear without a trace once a chimney sweeper, kind fellow really fell down the damn chimeny and we never heard from him again. It caused our family much grief as people claimed we killed him we most certainly did not we even rushed down the stairs to help the fellow even searched the chimney see if the man got stuck inside as he did have a wide bottom. But alas he was gone truly no blood, just a yelp and poof.
As for the fireplace whenever you leave anything near it that too disappears and i have no doubt this letter will also be one of those things that mysteriously poof as well. I am going to do an experiment tonight with a spoon i will drop it down the chimney in hopes it finds wherever it is things go. This letter im leaving near the fireplace on our good sitting chair perhaps it will also land in the same place as my favorite silver teaspoon. I did so have it since i was a child if you do find it perhaps it is you that is stealing things and people. Either way do take care and if possible please return the chimney sweeper with the round bottom, and my spoon thank you."
....
John read the damned letter once then twice he blinked slowly, a laugh escaped him this had to be a fucking prank from some bloody teenager with an aptitude for creative writing. But still johns curiosity was peaked. And honestly it made him want to learn about whatever family lived here in 1897 and what the fuck was going on.
He couldn’t help it he found himself walking over to the old fireplace that the landlord said he hasn’t used in years mainly because the cost for upkeep and repairing it was too much. He pretty much told john that if he’s cold he’ll install some extra space heaters just dont touch the fireplace. Now john wondered if the landlord somehow knew? Or if something weird was really happening with the fireplace and chimney.
a/n: i'd just like some feedback on this so far this fic will probably be 1 chapter maybe 2 at most give me thoughts and feedback but be kind and respectful if you dont like this fic thats fine just scroll on
John gingerly gathered her into his arms her wings dragging behind them like tired drapes cascading down, it wasn’t then that she stirred she rarely ever did in his arms. Her feathers were soft and sleek twitching and puffing every so often. Her head lolled to the side his hand moved up to cup the back of her head gently readjusting her for comfort and to prevent a crick in her neck. He enjoyed the warmth of her against him, holding her was like holding a mini a furnace in the dead of winter or a small dragonlet. Warm and alive always so damn full of life even on her worst days even when it was her eyes that rang hollow it was like she held a spark of life in her fingertips down to her very being. John had no idea how he got so damn lucky.. He couldn’t fathom how it was that she chose him out of everyone else.
The man that has killed more people then he saved, professional disaster extrodinaire and yet here was this women beautiful eccentrically odd, but a genius that found value in even the smallest things.. In him? A man damned beyond imagining decided he was her safe place to land.
Though of course john knew he shared that title with another the boy who came back from the dead. He wasn’t blind to that fact he knew her heart rested in that boys hands but he also found himself holding it in his own as well.
You would never have imagined how heavy another’s heart could be nor how light there love could make your own feel. Not until you’ve found it. Often enough it isn’t loud love rarely ever is. So many people think of love as this large loud thing but the reality is its in the silences, in the unspoken in the smallest acts of care, even in the denials. Especially in the denials.
Somehow it was the weight of her that made him feel lighter on his feet not heavier never heavier.
So when he found himself with her gathered in his arms soaking wet from her bath because she fell asleep in the tub yet again, he didn’t mind it.
He didn’t care about how water seeped into his clothing little by little, nor about how cold water droplets slipped down and dripped right down the soft opening of his shirt gently splattering against the center of his chest. Or how her wings heavy, warm, and simply splendid seemed to drape completely over him even in her sleep. He didn’t even mind it when shed tuck herself closer as if she couldn’t bare to be away from him as if the very thought would shatter whatever peace it was she found here. No john couldn’t and wouldn’t dare to break such a spell. He simply carried her gently into her bedroom half wrapped in a warm towel gently settling her on the bed.
Where he gently prepared himself to start the process of getting her nice and dry.
....
authors note: this is just a snippet of a bit of my writing my oc is a character i created that is sort of inside of the dc universe and overlaps into the batman universe which is why those tags are there no my comment section is not a place to debate comic canon i take bits of lore i feel is right and use it for the characters
tumblr is convincing me to watch the new frankenstein movie i am not emotionally prepared but i might as well because its all over my dash and i fear i will not be able to dodge the spoilers forever
every one of the batfam has some kind of letter titled “if i die before you.” none of them know the others have it.
dick’s is long, rambling. the kind of thing you can tell was written over years. it starts as a joke (“play ‘another one bites the dust’ at my funeral. i dare you” and “don’t let bruce wear black, make him wear the discowing”) but it slides somewhere heavier around paragraph three. there’s a sentence crossed out so many times it’s unreadable, and below it: “i’m sorry.”
jason’s note was torn and tossed in a dumpster outside his apartment. it is unorganised, more confession than message. no punctuation. no structure. just anger that keeps folding in on itself. “i wasn’t trying to make it your problem” is repeated three times, then erased, then rewritten smaller. the last line just says, “i’m sorry if it happens again.”
tim’s reads like documentation. he has it saved on the batcomputer, under a code that only comes undone after his passing. he lists passwords, evidence caches, two separate encrypted folders, and a five-step contingency for what to do if he “mysteriously disappears again”. all neat, clinical. the last line ruins it: “delete my ao3 history before anyone finds it.”
cass’s note is short, tucked in her phone case. one sentence. sharp: “don’t let them make it pretty.” she doesn’t elaborate, but she doesn’t need to.
damian’s is a formal, written letter he keeps in his desk drawer. like a will. “ensure Titus is cared for”, “inform Jon personally”, “tell Grayson he was unbearable”. then, at the bottom, written months later: “delete the recordings of me laughing. that’s private.”
barbara’s note starts practical: who to contact, what systems to shut down. halfway through there’s a lowercase line that breaks the pattern: “don’t let him shut down again.”
bruce’s exists too. the name’s the same. it’s empty. it’s been opened hundreds of times.
alfred’s phone, when it’s found, has one note pinned to the top. it just says: “if i die before any of you, i’m sorry. you deserve peace.”
she woke up half asleep in the middle of the night to find nick sipping a mug of hot coffee doing something else and she sits up and confiscates his coffee and sets it on the table and slowly curls into his chest enjoying the way his heartbeat feels and nick would simply let her his hands with ink swirling through his skin snaking this way and that. he'd gently let his fingertips find the center of her back following slowly the grooves of her spine he traced them feeling every scar that seemed to settle cruely into her skin he found where her wings seemed to begin he felt a soft gasp escape her lips half relief half something more neither didn't dare name. he felt the way her feathers shifted the way her wings practically leaned into his touch. he was careful every touch was light gentled despite the harsh callouses that covered his hands he let his fingers gently move from her spine's path to one of her wings. gently trailing them through her feathers careful not to ruffle them to much just exploring he felt the way her body shuttered against his chest he could practically feel her heartbeat. the way her her body slowly melted against his chest with every touch eventually he felt the barest hint of curiousity hit him and he couldn't stop himself he let his hand press through her feathers finding where the soft almost brittle yet somehow strong what he could only describe as bones. her wings flared wide in reaction he stilled his hands looking for a sign of pain but no there was none her wings practically pressed into his fingertips an unspoken kind of need seemed to bloom between them. something far more sacred then sex.
(context this does take place within the dc universe kinda think city of gotham where metahumans exist only these two characters are a more extreme case maybe one day ill give more context on them)
BE KIND AND RESPECTFUL IN THE COMMENTS I WON'T TOLERATE HATE OR RUDE COMMENTS YOU WILL BE BLOCKED DELETED AND REPORTED REBLOGS ARE OFF FOR NOW UNTIL I FEEL COMFORTABLE POSTING AGAIN
(NOTE THIS IS HALF A WRITTEN OUT SCENE AND HALF NOTES ON WHAT I WANT MY CHARACTERS DOING THIS IS WHY ITS TAGGED AS A MESSY DRAFT THIS IS INCOMPLETE)
what happens when Jason's significant other learns of his death, what happens when she completely falls apart and just when she thinks she can't take it anymore the batfam starts to take matters into their own hands, what happens when emotionally constipated bruce wayne has his son's death thrown in his face by his son's widow?! what does bruce wayne aka batman do when he finds his son's widow passed out in the cold on the coldest day of the year with clear signs of hyperthermia...
Tw: depictions of loss, grief, anxiety, depression, panic attacks and vague implications of hallucinations, toxic family dynamic, and mentions of hospitals
A/N: This is the first chapter of this fic so each chapter I'll post trigger warnings for that specific chapter so I urge you to pay attention to those through each chapter and I may update the synopsis for this a little later on, this is unedited and is a draft also I'm not going for complete dc canon also please let me know in the comments what you think
NOTE: the above images is how the mc remembers and views jason post-death, this kinda depicts how he was before he died in this fic normally I would've drawn it myself but im lazy i have no idea who the og artists are for the images above if anyone figures it out lmk and ill credit them
Part 1 The Death
It’s been a year to the day since the loss of my other half, I keep desperately wishing it was nothing more than an incredibly vivid nightmare that any moment he’d step through the door of our shared apartment with a present of some sort maybe with another stray cat in arm, apologizing and pulling me into his chest assuring me that it was nothing more than a bad dream, that the joker could never take him down, but of course now that was only a delusion. She could remember the day when she came home from work only to find her no more like they're home eerily quiet. When she flipped on the cheap lights that always seemed to buzz and flicker and cast little splatters of gold and yellow across the room she came face to face with a shadow. At least that’s what he was at that moment. She didn't know how long he sat in that dark room or why he was there. I don’t think I'll ever forget his face, it was like a mask of hardened shadows. It was the face of a man who had witnessed the deepest, most grotesque horrors of hell, normally playboy bruce wayne would have a smile plastered on his face, or he’d have some semblance of just some emotion on his face but this night there was nothing absolutely nothing his face was completely and utterly blank, no warmth, no attempt at pleasantries, there was nothing, other then the noise of the hard wooden chair made up of cheap wood creaking beneath his weight. I didn’t understand why he was there.I approached him cautiously, exhaustion and confusion weighing on me. Maybe he and Jason had just gotten into a fight, or perhaps he was dropping something off for his son. But he said nothing. Without a word, he handed me an envelope and a piece of fabric, then stood up and left the tiny apartment. No lecture, no questions about his son—just the sound of his footsteps fading into the distance and the soft click of the door closing behind him. In that eerie silence, it felt like a death sentence, and I knew, in that moment, everything was about to unravel.
I remember pulling my beat up phone from my back pocket, and trying to dial jay’s number to inform him his dad was just here, but his phone didn’t ring not even once instead there was a dead robotic monotone voice.
“Sorry the number you have dialed is out of service”.
That was the moment i knew something was drastically wrong Jay would never disconnect his phone or let it die, he always wanted me to have a direct line to him,I remember feeling numb as I moved through our shared apartment, each step heavy with the weight of the moment. I made my way to our favorite corner of the room—the reading nook, where the light always seemed to dance just right. There, nestled in the corner, was an old-fashioned armchair, its worn fabric a silent testament to countless hours spent together. Behind it stood three bookshelves, arranged so perfectly that they gave the illusion of being an extension of the chair itself, a quiet haven amidst the chaos. I remember feeling unsure and wrong as i sat down and let myself sink into the chair’s worn fabric despite its age the chair was incredibly soft, jay always knew what to pick to fit our home and our needs. Always thoughtful, always knowing just what it was i needed to be comfortable a true testament to the type of man he was. Still the moments felt eerily heavy like the whole room had a thick cloud of wrongness still clutching my phone in one hand and in the other the mysterious envelope and fabric i forced myself to take a deep breath before examining the two odd objects his father handed me. A dull sickness seemed to invade my whole body it was almost like a part of me knew.
Upon flipping on the special lamp jason had lovingly built for us I drew in a breath, and upon looking down at the little piece of fabric all the air in my lungs rushed out of my body and it was like the floor had rushed up to the ceiling and everything around me was upside down and the world was no longer. It was as though every particle of the world was ripped away from me. It wasn’t much, it wasn;t even that big maybe as big as a ripped dollar bill a small soft piece of fabric with a torn silly little image hastily sewed onto a bright traffic cone red fabric with little sploches of much darker red stained over it. I remembered drawing this small little thing and jokingly telling him to wear it next time he went out to fight crime not expecting him to spend an hour sewing it onto his suit. My breath was coming in painful waves it felt like my very bones and blood were crushing my lungs, the world around me began to spin it was as if everything around me was going at light speed everything was a blur nothing was still long enough to make sense of any of it. I dont know how long i stayed in that dizzying state before things began to make sense again, w hen i finally managed to make sense of the envelope there was no mistaking it that sloppy erratic hand writing, all sharp angles and aggressive slashes, it was jason’s, my breath caught in my throat and it felt as if lead had entered my stomach, as if my whole body would be torn apart from the inside out, gingerly careful not to rip the contents of the envelope nor damaging the outside of it gently i shook out the contents a 3 page document spilled out along with a card and …. I squeezed my eyes shut not wanting it to be true not wanting this to be real, hoping for it to be just a bad dream, or even a hallucination anything but this. I opened my eyes again forcing myself to see through the blurred vision, and what i saw in my lap was photographs of us from that time we went to a fair photo booth his bright smile lit up the photo despite the fact i had given him a sharpie mustache because he fell asleep during date night the day before and my own face looked up at me midlaugh, but his smile was tainted by.. Blood… it was splattered over as if an angry painter had taken a bucket and splattered it over just his side of the photo. Upon shaking the envelope a card fell out.. It was a condolences card and upon opening it there was almost a 10 grand check inside with a simple I’m sorry written inside nothing more nothing less, signed bruce wayne. The three page document it was a picture of a blood splattered letter that read-..
To my other half
I know this is extremely sudden and this may hurt you and i promise that this it’s not my intention, it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me, I promise you that my absence isn’t a reflection of you or that you’ve done anything wrong. Truth is my birth mother found me, she reached out to me and seems to want to reconcile, explain why she left me alone, and abandoned me to fend for myself on the streets of Gotham.
I know i should be telling you this in person, but truth is I was scared, I now that doing it in this way is a bit cowardly, but it all happened so fast, and i know bruce wouldn’t have approved. It’s been difficult between us lately he’s always saying how reckless i am and how I’ve changed and no longer do what he’s trained me to, and it’s hard it feels like he’s comparing me to Dick the golden child, the first Robin. Sometimes I don’t think he sees me as me but as an extension of robin i think he wants me to be a carbon copy of dick and i just cant be what he wants me to be, I also didn’t want him to interfere in this. I need to know why, I need this closure.
I know this is a shock and really difficult, i also know i have no right to ask this of you but at least for a day don’t tell bruce about this I just.. I have to meet her she said it would be easier for her to explain things without the judgement of my adoptive father.
Everything.. it’s all complicated but I promise you I’ll be okay, I’ll only be gone for a week tops. I know you’re worried, but I promise I’ll take extra care of myself, and despite everything she seems to truly care about me. It seems genuine so please don’t be too upset.
I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, and for the suddenness of this. But I need to do this. I know this might hurt, and I should’ve been honest with you from the start. But when I come back, I’ll make it up to you—whatever it takes.
Please, don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.
I’ll be back.
– With all my love Jason
(The final line is heavily stained with blood)
Everything fell apart after reading that godforsaken letter and card. I was desperate for it to be a mistake again i called his phone sent him texts anything and everything, but all i got was error messages or that damn robotic voice every time.. I re read that letter so many times its now burned in my memory I was angry too, but not at Jay but at bruce, how could he.. How.. the world began to tilt nothing made sense and that night everything went dark… I can’t quite recall how it happened—one moment, I was sitting in that chair, and the next, I found myself in a bed, surrounded by strangers in white coats and blue scrubs, in a white washed room that smelled of rubbing alcohol. They’re was a dull yet increasingly annoying beeping coming from behind my head and a deep itch in my arm when I attempted to scratch it I realized there was an IV attached. My confusion soon turned to panic I was in a fucking hospital. Soon there was an urgent beeping coming from the room it took everything in me to not try to rip the machine from the wall, everything was a blur. Breathing became difficult and my chest felt like it was on fire there was a loud ringing in my ears.. Everything was a blur of faces and it felt like I was on the worlds most angry sea nithing was still.. Vaguely I was aware of something or someone being in front of me but I couldn’t hear over the angry punding in my chest and how I could feel the DUM DUM DUM of my pulse. IT felt as though it could be heard from miles around, soon there was a tingling in my hands and feet everything was starting to go dark. Suddenly I felt hands forcing me back down I tried to squirm away to get them away, I could hear jason’s voice telling me to fight not to give up, soon there was an odd sickly taste in the bac of my mouth it was a scent of weird salty water that assaulted my nose despite there not being anything near. I tried to kick at the hands but whatever was pushing me down had a grip like iron then There was a cold sensation of fluid entering my vein and soon I no longer had any strength left to fight, Jay’s voice began to disappear but I tried to call out to him but my mouth would no longer work right I couldn’t get it to form the proper shapes or sounds, and thats when everything went black again. It wasn’t until later that I learned I had passed out. And when I awoke at the e.r initially I had a bad panic attack and had to be restrained by the nurses while the doctor had to administer something through the IV to make me calm because my heart rate was apparently dangerously high. According to the staff I was brought to Gotham general because the neighbors, heard my screams and the sounds of furniture crashing to the floor, had called 911. Apparently, it had been enough to alarm them, though I have no memory of any of it. All I can remember is waking up to find Wayne’s butler at my bedside. After my discharge, they insisted I stay at the mansion for a week. They didn’t think it was safe for me to be alone, which was they’re kind way of saying I was a danger to myself and if I didn’t stay with them they would’ve had me admitted.
The week of me staying at the Wayne’s was strained and tense, Bruce couldn't look me in the eye and it was only alfred and my cat for company most days, I’m not even sure when or how they got my cat from the apartment yet here she was unharmed and safe in my lap trying desperately to make me happy, yet my smile was dead. There was nothing to be happy about. I had nothing left.
They had me start on a few different psych meds but after a while I stopped taking them as they weren’t doing anything for me and I was tired of taking them. When I returned home it was exactly as it was on that night when I found out about the death of my soulmate… It took alot of assurances for them to allow me out of sight, its like they had me on suicide watch I was filled with a dread so vast it could probably be felt miles around. Being back I was in a state of disbelief. I kept thinking this is a dream nothing more then a dream, any moment now Jay would walk through that door and yet he never did.
…
Later came the funeral, so many were there but none wore any faces of true regret, sympathy, or sadness for his death, not even his father his face was a blank slate in fact just by looking at him you wouldn’t have known he had just lost a son. The wayne butler was the one presiding over the funeral always moving organizing rearranging and delivering various items during the service and the wake. There was a sea of faceless people before me each one saying my condolences, oh he was a good kid, it made me sick. None of these people were here for Jay none of them even knew him at least not on a deep level not on an intimate level, none knew how fiercely he loved, how his face would light up at the smallest acts of kindness, how he couldn’t resist taking care of the strays on the streets of gotham, how wherever he went he did his best to spread good. Despite all that his funeral was made a joke no one was truly here for him or because they were sorry no they were all here to get closer to playboy Bruce Wayne not even his older adoptive brother bothered to show up. Soon I felt as though I were suffocating and choking on my rage with no where to direct it, you can’t be mad at the dead, you can’t blame the father for the sins of the son at least thats what people like to keep telling me. But I knew the truth of it was simple, Bruce wayne let his son die, he allowed a mad man to kill him. Now you might be thinking how could I a regular Gotham citizen know such a thing, well its simple really the night I was visited by the shadow was the same time Robin stopped being spotted in Gotham. The other way I know was years ago when I first met him I figured out his identity though we never talked about it, we didn’t acknowledge it other then silent promises and reassurances through tight hugs, lingering kisses that bruised, the way he’d hold my hand a little longer then necessary before leaving the house, the way every night when he was late he’d return with a small gift, or would make it up to me with a long date night, when the anxiety of what he did felt like it would swallow me whole and rip me apart atom by atom he’d be by my side holding me tight silently gluing the pieces back together. None of these people understood who he was what he was… My skin felt like it was on fire my throat dry, I could no longer breathe, as the blurred faces seemed to close in on me each saying something I couldn’t quite make out, each syllable out there mouths ssounded like garbled nonsense, the edges of my vision were going black everything was starting to tilt, I felt hard hands suddenly grip mine. I couldn’t make anything out through the roaring in my ears soon I felt my knees hitting something hard and cold and something hard and warm on the back of my neck forcing me to bend down forehead to the cold.. Wood? Soon I could feel a light, TAP ..TAP..TAP.. it seemed to go on in a rhythm, I could feel my lungs finally expanding to take in air suddenly it was like I was greedily sucking in air as I sputtered and choked, feelings of confusion and anxiety began to overtake me how could I be choking, where am I again, what is this pressure in my head, why is the world so loud, everything became to much all to fast, and yet the only constant that could be felt was that soft TAP..TAP..TAP.. Then the words came or syllables really. I swear I could hear his soft voice telling me to breathe slow, to try to sink my breathing with the tapping, to ground myself by feeling the cold wood patterns of the ground. Soon the gentle voice that seemed to guide me transformed into the calm, commanding, soft spoken bruce wayne the pressure began to ease slowly when I sat up and looked around myself to try and make sense of my settings, I realized this was.. My breath caught it felt trapped in my own throat, this was .. it was.. My vision seemed to stop making sense things began to lose focus when I blinked again, it was Jay’s old room, with bruce sitting beside me on the floor his face seemingly warm yet cold, yet watching me closely..
“I.. Don.. How”.. my words kept getting lost it felt like my whole body were under water, and like my mouth was disconnected from the rest of my body.
“You panicked, people were offering you there condolences and suddenly you started to go down it was alfred who stepped in and started redirecting the guests to the orderves and i pushed through the throngs of people to check on you, though when I got there… You.. were hyperventilating you weren’t seeing me or anyone else for that matter, so I picked you up and brought you to the only quiet room available in the manor”, he said this as if it were another tuesday no hint of grief showed on his face or in his words despite the fact we were in his dead sons room, a part of me wanted to yell scream do anything just to make him react to make him at least feel a little bad that he was the cause of his death yet, I felt to tired, too numb.. To dead.. I know people react to grief in different ways but it felt unnatural how calm he was, how unbothered he seemed, not even a little heartbroken, he just had to burry his son in a closed casket because his body was too broken, which I only know because a while back after the incident at the hospital I began digging, because it didn’t make sense… That was until bruce showed up on my doorstep still silent as ever, he handed me some documents that had a letter on top, it was elegantly written with swirled words, and sharp edges like it was well thought out and practiced. It was in bruce’s own handwriting telling her to stop digging she wouldn't want to see him like that to not taint her memory, that if she continued she may not be able to remember jason as he was alive, but haunted by the monstrosity that was his death, that if i must know it was all recorded there in those documents but it would be best to not look at them.. Eventually I had to know, I opened the document to find a coroner's report, i skimmed it fearing for what it might say his cause of death was, I saw words like “blunt force trauma”.. “Third degree burns”.. “Battered”, “Bloodied”.. It kept going but when i made it to the cause of death eyes blurry heart pounding it said “smoke inhalation”, so many scenarios raced through my mind, but there wasn’t one where it made sense where his death made any sort of sense.
Eventually the sound of a door opening interrupted my thoughts, and I found alfred standing there with a tray of cookies, a glass of some refreshing liquid and two white oval shaped pills sitting in a tiny plastic medicine cup.
“Excuse the interruption but I brought the anxiety meds like you requested, Where shall I put this”, Alfred pennyworth always with the proper way of talking sometimes I wasn’t sure if it was the Brit in him or just how he was brought up.
“Just hand it to me thank you alfred”.
“Of Course sir, just a reminder you have guests waiting sir, and the reporters are asking about..”
“Yes alfred I’ll be there soon”.
He took the tray from the butlers hands and placed it on the floor before me looking at me expectantly, not wanting to be here any longer i grabbed a cookie crunched it and then took the pills like a shot and drank half the cup of liquid not really tasting anything… moments later I felt tired but relaxed,
“Stay here tonight I don’t want you alone”.
Too tired to argue I did as he said though I stayed in the guest room.
synopsis: What happens when harley quinn notices you with dazed eyes standing at the edge of a rooftop ready to take a life altering plunge before your life's even begun, can she convince you take just one step back?
As Harley skips down the street, humming a tune, she suddenly stops in her tracks, eyes catching a flash of something on the rooftop of a nearby building. Curiosity piqued, she squints, realizing it’s you—on the edge, clearly not in the best state. Without a second thought, her playful demeanor turns into one of frantic worry.
“Hey! Whoa, hold up there, sugarplum!”, She called out preparing to launch herself up the building using the grappling hook gadget thing she had stolen from one of the bat brats, understanding she had to both be cautious to not startle you off the ledge meanwhile knowing she needed to get up there asap. She shot the hook and as she felt herself rushing upwards, her whole body weightless as air was rushing through her ears she couldn’t help but laugh, a girl could get used to this maybe the bats liked these toys so much because they were simply fun. She landed on the rooftop with a harsh plop sound she gracefully rolled to her feet and stood while tossing the gun off the rooftop as she no longer needed it.
Once on the rooftop, she sees you standing precariously, eyes glazed, body swaying as if caught between the weight of despair and the temptation of escape. Harley’s breath catches in her throat, her manic energy momentarily replaced with something softer, something urgent something Harley thought herself was long gone.
"Hey! What do you think you’re doin’, huh?" she asks, trying to mask the concern in her voice with her usual playful tone. “You know you gotta leave that drama for the stage, sweetie. Ain’t no room for it up here.”
Carefully she approaches you, when you look at her you notice a peculiar look in her eyes not what you’d expect to see in one of Gotham’s most wanted and dangerous villains, a soft protectiveness, and … Understanding, Harley was no stranger to heartbreak, or despair, she’s faced the worst Gotham has had to offer and experienced nearly every kind of neglect possible, she understood what it was like being unable to find that shiny little light at the end of the tunnel. Though of course she wouldn’t willingly admit that to anyone after all she had a reputation to protect, and she promised herself she’d never be anyone’s puppet or plaything again.
The kind of pain she saw in you was something she’s seen before though the last time she saw it was years ago when she looked in the mirror she didn’t know what monster it was that was lurking beneath your skin, or what ghosts were clinging to you, but what she did know was she couldn’t leave you like that.
“Hey toots dont ya make me come and grab ya, cause I totally will, I mean come on do you really wanna go teetering off this silly ol rooftop or would ya like to come and pat some hyenas”, she added that last part knowing it was weird enough to peak anyone’s interest and maybe silly enough to distract you maybe even enticing enough to get you away from such a precarious spot. Her voice was surprisingly gentle and soft yet playful you knew it was meant to be a threat but you just needed it to all be done.
When you don’t respond, Harley gets a tad bit impatient but not unkind, she’s stubborn in that way, if she sees something she doesn’t necessarily like she wont let it be till its remedied, afterall that’s what made her at the top of her class, and even at one time the top of her field, though that’s from another time and another life.
In a last ditch effort Harley resorts to humor.
"Oh c'mon, we’re supposed to be having a good time! Jumpin' off buildings? That’s so last season! What’s next? Trying to make the Gotham skyline a lot less… skyscrapey?”
Harley notes the uncertainty that lights your features the way you seem to look between her and the streets below still clinging to the silence, it wasn’t that she would force you to speak if you weren’t ready she just wanted, no needed you to give yourself a chance afterall many thought her irredeemable and yet there were still those that gave her they’re hand and tried to help her find a new start she wanted to pass that forward. She was well aware she wasn’t necessarily a good person but she did have morals and a somewhat intact conscience.
A heavy fog of silence seems to weigh you down, you don’t wish to talk, hell you dont wish to do anything anymore, it was to much and the world to heavy, to loud, just to much you just needed it to all be done. Soon you turn back and face the streets below watching the cars rush past from up here they all look like little toy models, and the people like ants. You could almost imagine that this.. Life.. was only a nightmare, and the best way to make nightmares end.. Is by letting go maybe then you’d find peace..
Harley now understanding you’re not going to change your mind, all the lightness and humor were now gone.
“Hey look I’m serious, please just… take one step back just one, come on wouldn’t you at least like one person to hear your story before you go.. Look I know this thing .. life… its dirty messy and alot of times ugly.. But you know what isn’t ugly.. Falling apart asking for help, those things they’re human.. What do ya say toots will you give me a chance to hear your story, or if your not ready to talk we could sit.. Come on I have cute animal pictures on my phone, I also happen to know where catwomen gets her stray cats we could go pat them”, at this she wiggled her eyebrows with a soft smile while also holding out her hand.
This was weird you didn’t understand why she would care, but you also didn’t wish to be the cause of someone else’s trauma, or inconvenience anyone else, that was the problem with living in a place like gotham, its a city that never sleeps, even in the most secluded of places there would always be someone there for better or worse.
“Just one step back thats all”, you let out a soft breath still feeling numb and exhausted you close your eyes for a moment trying to weigh the options before you, yet there really was only one option, one couldn’t fade into the darkness and have others forget them if someone is watching you die.. Reluctantly and a little dissapointed you take a single step backafter all she did say only one step. You felt a hand grab yours and gently pull you a couple steps away. Then she took a few steps back and sat down in front of you criss cross apple sauce pulled out her phone and turned it over to show you photos of her with… Hyenas?!
She smiled,
“After all I did promise cute animal pics, and an introduction to my babies and i am a women of my word”. You didnt really know what to think or do but you noticed that your feet hurt and there were heavy harsh sheets of painfully cold rain coming down, yet despite that neither of you made any attempt to seek shelter instead you sat next to her in companionable silence as she continued to chatter away about her “babies”, and kept showing you pictures of strays in gotham. It was.. Kinda nice.. And somehow fitting while she was loud and outgoing, she didn’t seem to mind your continued silence.
“Ya know toots, you really dont have to do things alone, this thing called life there is more to it then standing or sitting at the very edge of it.. Just know if you want me to be I’ll be around”. Despite this being one of gotham’s so called worst villains you could tell she was genuine, you also got the feeling she wouldn’t be leaving your side any time soon, and maybe that was okay. Despite the heavy dread that clung to you for the first time in months you felt… Something.
