#looneyxtune

Peter didn’t even have the heart to put on his now pink and blue Spidey suit that frankly was fitting a little too tight in places he’d rather have a little more room, thanks to her alterations that he never asked for.  “You are for sure the worst room mate.” He tells her shaking his head as he looks down at himself. “I look ridiculous!” 

❝ And then some, ❞ Harley said with a nod. She grinned and picked up the duffel bag full of goodies that she’d left behind when she left Mister J. Luckily the Crown Prince wasn’t home, but it didn’t mean his Goons weren’t ready. And from the looks of it, they were given strict instructions if she’d ever decided to come back.

She put her bag over her shoulder and grabbed her baseball bat. She rushed over to Ivy and gave her a quick hug. She giggled and kissed her cheek. ❝ Alright, let’s go home before Mistah J comes back, ❞ she said and grabbed Ivy, yanking her down to avoid one of the goons’ fists. Harley spun around and decked the goon in the face before grabbing Ivy’s hand and rushing with her away.

Home. That word alone made Ivy feel things that she shouldn’t, but she wasn’t about to let her heart (or mind) go there. “Hang on, I think I should leave him a farewell gift too,” Ivy said as she raised her hand to summon the woodiest vines and roots of trees from the surrounding area, expanding them before she forced them to pierce through the concrete walls of Joker’s hideout.

Wow...she really DID care. Harley felt tears prick her eyes and her lip trembled. ❝ R-really? ❞ she asked and sniffled. ❝ Ives, that's the nicest thing anyone's done for me in a long time. ❞ She sniffled again and wiped the blood from her nose where the goon had punched her in the face.

Ivy had never cared for another human being like she did with Harley, or rather, she never bothered caring for anything or anyone else other than nature. It was why she spent most of her time with plants, because they were way easier to deal with than pathetic humans with their self destructive emotions. But with Harley, she was starting to realise that she might be more human than she’d want to admit. And that scared her.

HOW WAS THIS FUN. All this time, all this money, all this effort and for what - a piece of ass that was more of a headache to him than a benefit. Those nine months she was away, he had piece and quite. All that time she was locked up - things actually ran smoothly without her brand of mayhem fucking everything up. He was content to just leave her there, let her take the hit for him and do his time for her, that’a ll she was good for, but Frost - was paid to talk sense to the clown, paid to see the reason behind everything. If they could take his gal and he would do nothing about it - what else could they take from him. How much could he lose the longer she remained locked up and he did nothing. His reputation was always in tatters, but business was business and people were refusing to do it with them, the jester being locked up - was costing them money, costing them the war in the streets. It was a sick thing to admit it, but things were better when she was with them, rather than her being locked up. It meant he actually had to go and - ugh - rescue her.

“Frost - is that just a nickname or do you have ice powers.” He muttered as he lay there, turning his head to look at the burning remains of his clown posse. Even the good doctor was roasting on the open fire. What a shit storm this was. It was meant to be easy, in and out - but somehow the best paid pilots in the game flew right into a rocket and got him into this mess. “Not very talkative now are you.”

Well this was certainly not funny. Shot down in a city that had gone to hell. He read the reports Frost gave him, of what was going on - in what Harley had got herself dragged into. Ancient gods, a suicide squad, a city whose population had been turned into monsters - it was all so boring to him. This was not how it was meant to be. This was not how he was meant to die. He could feel the heat, he could feel his flesh burning, the fire getting closer to him with each passing moment. His men were dead, the doctor was dead - he was going to be dead next and so - he just did what any clown would do. He started to laugh. All of this and for what - for such a shit death like this. He just lay there, trying to reach his gun at least as he could not get to it, instead he grabbed the suitcase that the doctor had brought, a copy of what Waller was using to track her team and pop there heads should they step out of line. At least if he was going down, he was going to take some people with it, but before he could even look at the names he saw it, the hand pushing through the torn top of the helicopter, reaching out to him as he gritted his teeth, reaching up as he was pulled from his fiery grave.