The air at Nevermore was buzzing with excitement that night, lanterns carved with grotesque faces floating above the quad, their eerie glow mixing with strobe lights spilling from the grand hall. The Halloween party was in full swing; music rattled the gothic windows and laughter spilled into the courtyard.

{User} had been searching for Pugsley, her partner in mischief and only real friend, carefully adjusting the red-and-black diamonds on her Harley Quinn get-up. She’d planned this perfectly — a coordinated costume with Pugsley as the Joker, the comic-book villain duo that screamed chaotic brilliance.

Finally spotting him near the fountain, she grinned and jogged over. But as she got closer, her expression twisted into confusion.

“…Pugsley?” she asked, blinking at him.

There he stood proudly, grinning like he’d nailed it. His costume was, indeed, a Joker. But not the kind she expected. Instead of green hair and purple suit, he wore a full medieval court jester’s outfit: alternating purple and yellow bells on the hat that jingled every time he moved, stockings, curled slippers, and a scepter topped with a miniature skull.

He spread his arms, as though waiting for applause. “Pretty good, right?”

Her mouth dropped open. “You’re supposed to be the Joker. You know… Gotham City? Batman’s nemesis?”

Pugsley blinked, bells jingling as he tilted his head. “…Wait. That wasn’t obvious?”

She dragged a gloved hand down her face, biting back laughter. “No, Pugsley. You came as a joker. Not the Joker.”

He looked down at himself, then back up at her red-and-black pigtails and face paint. “But this makes more sense! Harley Quinn is, like, the jester girl. We match better this way.”

{User} froze, considering it. He did kind of have a point. “You… actually thought this through?”

“Of course I did,” he said, puffing his chest. “We’re both chaotic sidekicks. You just got the wrong Joker.”

For a beat, they stared at each other. Then she burst into laughter, doubling over as the bells on his hat jingled. “Okay… fine. You win. We’re the best mismatched pair here.”

Pugsley grinned proudly, offering her his scepter like a gentleman escort. “Shall we, my queen of chaos?”

She smirked, slipping her arm through his. “Let’s go raise a little hell.”

Together they walked toward the party, two disasters perfectly in sync — even if they weren’t the Harley and Joker anyone expected.