oh what a sin

Jaskier sighed, his heart grew heavy at the mention of Geralt. “yeah… we’ve crossed paths.” Jaskier pulled her close “it’ll all be okay, we’ll figure this out.” he surprised even himself, Jaskier the person who’d rather drink and sleep his way to an early grave than deal with his problems was determined to try and make things better for her. “Have you seen Yennefer?, maybe she’ll know how to fix him?”

Memory loss wasn’t something Jaskier had many dealings with and even if he did he had his songs to remind him.

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“I’m so sorry,” She breathed. There were few that could understand that acute pain of becoming a stranger to a loved one. Her whole family seemed to be part of those unlucky enough to experience the tragedy.

Ciri had hoped things would be lighter here. She thought this sphere might have been different than back home.

She thought wrong.

“I’m living with Mother now, she was one of the first people I saw. We don’t have any ideas yet but we’ll fix it.” They have to. Ciri cleared her throat, arms crossing in a perfect, unintentional copy of her father. “What about you? What’s your life like here?”

Ciri was supposed to be picking up a few things for her mother. She knew she had errands and they’d have to get take away tonight if she didn’t complete them but her feet had other ideas. Ciri found herself walking to the farm, watching the light dusting of snow fall around her. She tried to stop by as often as possible. If asked, Ciri would say it was to see if Kelpie had shown up. Kelpie was a smart girl, she’d find Roach and Geralt if she couldn’t find Ciri.

Which brought her to her real reason.

Hope was a fragile thing, particularly in Ciri’s hands. She fostered it every time she walked up to the farm, only to be crushed when her father’s golden eyes looked at her with nothing but mild disinterest. She wanted to be recognized, to avoid the inevitable, near daily explanation as to why she was there.

Ciri leaned her elbows against the top of a newly mended fence, watching Roach and the other horse (Epona, she thought) play in the snow. Maybe, someday, she’d see Kelpie with them too.

Hearing that she was familiar with battle training certainly got Kili’s attention. The lack of any such activity around here had made him wonder if anyone else had the experiences that he had, so finding at least one person who was familiar with battle was nice. “Ah, you’ve been training? It can be grueling, but it’s worth the effort to prepare for eventual battle.” These days, he had a more favorable view of training, but when he had actually been training himself, he had been much more dismissive of it, thinking that he did not need the practice. Thankfully Fili had been there to keep him grounded.

“What sort of ‘bigger things’ have you seen? Have you seen trolls? Or storm giants?” If she had not seen orcs, he was not sure she would have seen any other creatures which could be found in Middle-earth. Considering Kili had no idea what a leshy was, perhaps she had seen an entirely different set of creatures. “Oh I will certainly watch for one. Um, at least I would if I knew what they looked like.” When she extended her hand, he accepted it and said, “Good to meet you, Ciri. I’m Kili.”

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Ciri had never been great at making friends. Fuck, her grandmother had to pay people to pretend to be her friends. But she was trying to be more open, to foster a few friendships in her life. Hearing that her new companion had similar experiences to her made her tentatively hopeful. “My father and uncles taught me at first, I’m continuing on my own here. It’s weirdly comforting to me. Makes me remember them.”

Her eyes went wide. She’d heard of trolls but had never seen any. Storm giants though… They sounded both terrifying and fascinating. The exact thing Geralt and Yennefer would try to keep her from finding. “Well, leshys for one. They’re giant, evil trees. Very angry all the time. Some of the others I don’t have names for, monsters started to mutate quite a bit before I left. Giant creatures with wings, manticore-scorpion- things.”

She grinned. “Our names match. That’s got to be a good sign, right?”

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tw: death

Ciri figures that if Destiny is real, luck has to be as well. She doesn’t like being thrown around by the will of the gods or whatever the fuck else controls Destiny, wants to be in control of herself. It’s something she’s come to begrudgingly accept however.

She doesn’t know if her luck skews a certain way, but if she had to guess, it would be closer towards unfortunate. Her “friends” turned out to have always hated her, sold her out to Nilfgaard the moment they could. Her home was destroyed in a single night, watched everyone she’d ever known be slaughtered around her.

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Ciri used to be trusting. Perhaps a little too trusting, no matter how much Calanthe tried to instill in her otherwise. It took watching the destruction of her kingdom in order to finally understand that lesson her grandmother desperately tried to teach.

Since then, the only person she’s trusted immediately has been Geralt. Ciri doesn’t understand if it was Destiny or Calanthe’s words echoing in her mind, just that she would be safe. And she has.

KATE LET STEPH SQUIRM; SHE KNEW THIS WASN’T AN EASY CONVERSATION.  she snorted at the insinuation, though.  ❝ I think I wasn’t clear.  The way you look at Cassie is something I noticed, from pretty early on.  And the way she looks at you, mind you.  Tim told me things like your tendency to knock each other out as a form of protection. ❞

IT’D NEVER BEEN HARD FOR KATE.  she’d realized how she’d felt when she was young, and beth had realized as well.  She’d teased Kate, but in the way that made her feel normal and accepted.  As she got older, there were things that made her stand out more.  Falling for women, approaching her feelings, it had been so natural.  She couldn’t empathize with what Steph was going through in her mind, as much as she wanted to help her.

THE SELF DEPRECATION, THOUGH, WAS SOMETHING KATE KNEW WELL.  she was working on it - with her therapist back at home and the one she’d picked up here in town.  ❝ I don’t think any of them would feel that way about you, Steph.  You have always encouraged everyone else to do what’s best for them, to live their life to the fullest.  Whether that was getting out of crime fighting, or just doing it better.  If I could see that before Sallow Hills, then they certainly can.  And I really think that Cass and Tim and Dami would want to be here with you.  Dami would struggle adjusting, for sure.  Tim would just find a project to bury himself in, and Cass - she could breathe for once.  It’s okay to want that for them all. ❞

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“Cassie-” Fuck, she was doing it again. Acting like a child, seeing things that weren’t there. “Cass and I did that a lot early on. She’s my best friend, she didn’t want me to get hurt. I didn’t- still don’t- know how to navigate this stuff.”

I’m not you, Kate.

She wanted to scream it. Steph certainly didn’t feel as strong as Kate was, didn’t have that dedication she saw in the older woman. Kate was so confident in herself, in who she was. Steph envied it. She was an amalgamation of parts, defined by those around her. A rogue’s kid, Batman’s failed Robin, the third Batgirl. Cass’ weak, hopelessly in love best friend.

“I want them to be happy.” Steph tried to blink back her tears, but a few escaped, rolling down her temples as she kept her now blurry gaze on the ceiling. She didn’t cry much anymore, only out of loneliness. She wanted her friends, her family. “I’m not you, I don’t know if I can push them to be happy the way you pushed us to be stronger. They deserve it. I just don’t know if it’s going to happen around me.”

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tw: teen pregnancy, adoption

Her daughter.

Steph knows she wasn’t ready to be a parent, doesn’t know if she ever will be ready to be a parent. There’s too much leftover trauma from her own childhood, Steph would be worried that she would fuck up her child as her own parents did to her.

That being said, there isn’t a day that goes by that she doesn’t think about her daughter. She was young and didn’t understand the difference in adoptive circumstances, went for a closed adoption through a private agency. What Steph failed to realize is that she could never contact her daughter. She didn’t have the connections to find the girl and at the time, Steph thought she was giving her baby the best possible chance at life. Her child would never know of her birth mother’s traumatic past, nor her family history of criminal activity.

Steph knows she wasn’t ready to be a mother. That doesn’t stop her from thinking about what if’s. What if she kept her baby? What if Tim had stayed to help with her daughter?

It’s why Steph asked Bruce to find and provide for her baby with what she believed would be her last breath.

The rain had let up. Finally. Her babies had been cooped up in her little two-bedroom, taking out their frustration on her table and chair legs. The moment the sun had even hinted at appearing behind the clouds, Harleen had placed their harnesses on and taken Bud and Lou for a walk.

They truly were well-trained, similar to huskies instead of the hyenas they actually were. However, their training was only remembered when they weren’t stir-crazy. Harleen cooed at her babies in all the right places, pulled on the leashes with most of her strength instead of all of it. A good walk, all circumstances considered.

A good walk that turned into a concerning one when Lou got lose, the hyena bounding her way over to head butt the next stranger she saw. Harleen yelped as she took after her pet. Lou had always been the friendlier of the two. Ironic given their names.

“I’m so so sorry.” Harleen was out of breath when she finally caught up with the hyena, grabbing the leash. Wrapping it around her wrist to keep a better hold on her baby, tugging Lou back from the stranger. “She gets friendly but she’s usually better behaved.”

Unless someone got within touching distance of Harleen. Her babies didn’t like most people touching their mama.

Harleen drummed her fingers against her binder of research, nervous was she waited at the front of Town Hall. She was supposed to be presenting her research to Armes Sallow, who so graciously had forgotten about their meeting. Not that Harleen could blame her, she hadn’t come to a decent conclusion. But she had theories.

That should count for something, right?

Harleen found herself forgetting to breathe, forcing herself to take a few deep breaths. Someone passed by the front, the doctor stepping forward. “Hi, I’m looking for Ms. Sallow. Do you-”

Shit. Shit. She had forgotten the Penguin was younger here, had barely recognized him outside of the gray jumpsuits both Arkham and Blackgate shared.

“-I, um. Sorry to bother you, Mr. Cobblepot.”

Hercules was a regular at the White Rabbit on nights off. It beat climbing the walls at home, and he could never stand to stay cooped up for too long. He stopped in frequently for the burgers too, the closest he’d found in Sallow Hills to anything at home without doing the cooking himself. There wasn’t a whole lot he missed about the States, but the food and all the space were some. Then again, you could usually count on Herc to follow the food.

He vaguely recognized the woman sitting at one of the tables, and he was halfway to her when he saw that she was surrounded by papers. He didn’t want to interrupt her work, but it was late to change course, and he ended up hovering awkwardly near her table for a moment when she didn’t look up.

He had a bad history with pretty girls and associated them mainly with bullying or heartbreak. It didn’t matter that he fit into his body now or that no one had looked at him with absolutely soul-sucking disdain in years. For a moment, he was sixteen and awkward again, and he changed his mind when there was no flash of recognition there. “Nah. Sorry to bother you, ma'am.”

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And this is why we don’t have friends, Harleen.

She would be the first to admit, she didn’t have much of a filter. Nervous rambling, info-dumping, follow by more nervous rambling were the defining traits of her time in medical school. All that stress had only killed her already struggling filter, it had never truly recovered.

Harleen grimaced, searching for a way to salvage the interaction. Her eyes drifted to her papers to the man. Something about him was strangely familiar. Not one of her patients, no. Make the face a little more grainy and- oh!

“Wait, you’re Hercules, right? From the group chat. I’m Harleen!” She quickly gathered up her papers into one, semi-cohesive pile before sticking her hand out in greeting. “We talked about a play date for our babies sometime.”

“You don’t have to hide anything, I have no clue what is going on.” Simon admitted with an awkward chuckle. “I may have been a decent student in high school but I was not that good with chemistry or most science subjects. I fainted the time we had to dissect a frog.” He didn’t know why he mentioned that, but Simon was a weird guy sometimes. He also talked a lot and didn’t seem to understand how to shut up on most occasions.

“Anyway, sorry to bother you and all, I guess I was just kind of in awe at how serious you were looking. I look like that when I am writing a new song.” He smiled awkwardly. “Um, I’m Simon…Simon Lewis. I know, it’s weird. I have two first names as my names.”

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“Doctah-patient confidentiality,” Harleen clarified, before wincing. Shit. She always had an issue keeping tabs on her accent when she got emotional. “I mean, it’s a breach of all sorts of laws if I show you these. Nothin’ personal.”

She began to gather them up, placing them back in their binder. Where they should have been to begin with. Well, they should be back in her office but it was a little too late for that to be remedied.

“Harleen Quinzel.” Was this how normal people made friends? It wouldn’t hurt her to try, it’s not like she had any other methods. “It’s- um- research on memory-loss. It’s kind of a big issue in town. I think it might be related to psychological reasons, but I know other people on the project are looking into physical explanations.”

ONE OF THE SCARIEST PEOPLE BACK HOME.  if it was anyone else, ivy would have taken the compliment with glee.  Blood-sucking aphids, even if Harley had said that back at home it would’ve been a compliment.  Because she would’ve said it with this kind of awe, like there was nothing better to be than scary.  But the Harley staring at her right now wasn’t saying it like that.  There was a venom in her voice, the only venom Ivy had ever known to affect her.

SHE COULDN’T LOOK AT THAT FACE OF DISTRUST.  so she looked at her plants instead.  She didn’t angle herself away enough to close the conversation, but focused in on her sprouting basil enough that she didn’t have to see her.  She didn’t have to see someone who wasn’t even the psychiatrist she’d once known.

THE LAUGH THAT ESCAPED HER RUBY LIPS WAS CRUEL.  it was harsh and cold and very practiced.  The perfect laugh for a femme-fatal, for a black widow, for every other name the men of the world wanted to call her.  ❝ You don’t need to tell me where you’re from.  I already know, Harley.  You were born in the Narrows.  You were on your gymnastics team in high school, and you were quite brilliant at it.  You went into psychology because you wanted to help, and you did.  You moved me to a cell that wasn’t poisoning me.  You wanted to learn about me, and I learned about you.  And I’m not talking about Crow-boy when I say him. ❞

SHE MET HARLEY’S EYE AGAIN, the perfect mask over her face.  The seductress, the tease.  ❝ I know you Harley Quinn.  I know that you have a little voice in your head that you’re trying keep locked away.  I know that the Joker pushed that door to Harley wide open, and that there are rare times when you find balance between the two of you. ❞  Her.  Harley had always been in balance when she was with Ivy.  It was part of the reason why she hated seeing Harley with Joker so much - she was unbalanced.  Like a soil with too high a pH.

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Harleen drew back, body tensing out of habit. She didn’t like this change in the woman. This was the cold-blooded killer from the news, beautiful in the most deadly way. Harleen didn’t have much plant knowledge, but she remembered the time Lou had eaten just a singular flower of a specific plant, had to have her stomach pumped immediately. It had been a terrifying night for both hyena and human. Harleen would never forget the drooping heads, the gorgeous and delicate petals surround by leaves of the most vibrant green.

Lily of the Valley.

Beautiful and deadly, capable of poisoning animals and humans alike with the smallest amount. Just like her.

There’s a reason Ivy got locked in Arkham and not Blackgate, for the staff’s safety. She could seduce anyone with that look, that laugh. Kiss your lips and leave you paralyzed on the floor, still thinking it was the best experience of your entire life. Back home, Harleen would have fallen for it. Anyone would have.

After seeing that softened, loving look on the woman’s face, the smile only scared Harleen.

“I nevah worked at Arkham,” She swallowed, hoping her voice was steady. ‘Dr. Quinzel’ was slowly slipping from her, from the curated voice to the confident set of her shoulder. “You got the wrong girl, I’ve nevah met you or anythin’.”

Did that sound like a lie? It certainly felt like one. Sure some of that sounded made up and others… well. She had never told anyone why she went into psychology. Classmates were given the “it’s easy and I can do it with gym” explanation. Her parents… well they had never cared much. They wanted her to marry a “nice” Jewish doctor, not become one. Poison Ivy shouldn’t know that. No one should know that.

A nervous laugh bubbled up out of her, quickly breaking eye contact with the woman. It was really too much for her. She wasn’t friends with a rogue. She wasn’t friends with anyone. “Is that what the Riddlah is goin’ by now? ‘S a stupid name. He was an Arkham guy, not Blackgate. If you mentioned Zsasz or Falcone I would’a believed ya.”

“Harley Quinn’s a stupid name, too. Why would I go by somethin’ kids used ta bully me with?” Her voice was quiet, almost to herself. Rationalize it, Harleen. Ivy just had internet access and was really good at guessing. Nothing else.

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tw: domestic abuse ( implied ), grooming

Both aspects of the woman have similarities in their romantic relationships. They need to be loved, almost desperately. Both are such hopeless romantics, mainly due to consuming all the thrift store romance books they could get their hands on as a teenager to deal with their overwhelming loneliness. They have an ideal vision of a partner and will ignore red flags in order to mold that partner to fit their ideal.

Harleen wants to be praised. Her love language (receiving) happens to be words of affirmation. She will do anything as long as someone tells her she’s smart (or right, when she talks about her various research projects). However, it’s a give-and-take with that. She won’t do anything unnecessary unless she receives that praise.

Harley on the other hand, will bend over backwards (sometimes quite literally) for even a crumb of attention. She’ll forget her own needs in favor of being whatever her partner wants. Sometimes, Harley will even forgo sleep in order to get/do something her partner wanted. She loses herself to her partner’s identity. Even her one major romantic relationship as Harleen defined her for years after they broke up, due to her being taken advantage of by a professor.