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puppetmaster13u · 8 months

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You may regret this @phoenixcatch7 lol, what if I start spamming you /j

Less cryptid Batman in this particular WIP since it's semi-outsider pov lol (one of two outside person not unnerved by them lol)

🦇👻🪆🦇👻🪆🦇👻🪆🦇👻🪆🦇👻🪆🦇👻🪆🦇👻🪆🦇

Clark knew Batman wasn’t human, even before that disaster of a mission where he had let it slip to the others.

He’d known for a long time, from one of their early meetups, when Batman had first referred to him as Clark Kent instead of Kal-El, and he had panicked. He hadn’t ever lied to his teammates when he said that the cloak prevented him from seeing his body, but his ears still worked.

He’d tried to listen to a heartbeat, to see if his at the time temporary ally was lying when he stated he wasn’t going to tell anyone and… Nothing. There was no heartbeat, no breathing, nothing even remotely human, and if he didn’t know any better, nothing even remotely alive about the silence.

He couldn’t help but to pay attention more, to seek out the strange almost silence-feeling that accompanied the Gotham vigilante each time he felt it. It was… almost comforting, like the swaying of branches and the rustling of cloth over stone. Familiar, compared to the hustle and bustle surrounding him in the city.

The first thing he had noticed, physically that is, was Batman’s ears. Previously he’d thought the man unemotional, what with the rough voice, expressionless white eyes, cloak-covered body and the gas mask covering a good chunk of his face.

Yet the longer he watched, even idly, the more he noticed that while the man’s face or body didn’t show much, his ears did.

While Batman could stay silent and still for hours, the long ears twitched and swiveled, catching on the hood that he’d always wear around them. They’d pin back sometimes, a near silent sound he couldn’t quite place accompanying the movement, while other times they’d twist a near full three-sixty, as though searching for whatever sound it had caught.

Sometimes, when he’d startled the other vigilante, there’d be rattling noise, like wood and metal clacking together before it was cut off. It was a strange sound, one he’d not heard anywhere else, except with his… friend.

Were they friends? He’d like to think so.

The next time he was reminded that his friend wasn’t human was when he saw him get injured. It hadn’t been a bad injury, even if the Gothamite’s head had hit the wall with a very loud cracking noise, but he’d still smelled what he’d eventually come to recognize as blood. There was an almost pickle-like scent to it though that wasn’t quite it either.

Honestly the closest he could think of describing it was some sort of formaldehyde. And once he focused, he could pick out other things beneath it. Maybe not flesh and blood in the traditional sense, but still.

There was always that scent of cloth and wood, but he could smell the black liquid, paint, a metallic thing underneath like iron and steel. No heartbeat, no breath, but life all the same. It was honestly beautiful in a way, like a part of the city the other vigilante called home had come to life.

And it wasn’t like Batman minded whenever his own human mask slipped. Clark may have been raised by his Ma and Pa, whom he loved, but it didn’t make his body any more human in nature. There were just some things that he couldn’t change, and it took effort to move like one all day as a civilian when his body wasn’t designed to do so.

So he stayed quiet for the most part when their group of three grew, and people started to speculate. He diverted the conversations whenever it turned to him, lightly admonishing over the various rumors.

It didn’t matter if Batman wasn’t human, he was still his friend, their ally and teammate. Was he curious? Oh of course, he’d gone into journalism for a reason after all, but it was still his friend. If he wanted to tell, he’d tell, and Clark wouldn’t break his trust.

#possessed doll au #possessed puppet au #This is pretty much the start of the doll reveal I did art for from Clark's and Diana's pov lol #batman au #cryptid batman #clark kent #superman #writing wip #Bruce when Clark first bends an arm in a way a human can't: I shall take note of this to see if I can do this later #Clark: Wow I have a friend who doesn't mind me doing weird things yay!#I like to think that the dolls start getting black veins through the wood like a mimicry of human arteries the longer they're in use #It's a symbiotic relationship that starts semi parasitic but turns mutually beneficial as the bond grows stronger #Diana who is made of clay probably also has a bit of a reveal to her teammates at some point I just realized #Maybe add my kintsugi headcanon for amazons in this oneshot lol #Might post the finished oneshot in AO3 if you'd be fine with it #Absolutely love this AU so much <3<3<3 #Bruce is unaware of how expressive his ears are when he doesn't have them tucked down to not hit them on ceilings lol #Clark isn't aware that half the time Bruce is not listening for sounds but listening to comms and for vibrations #Pfft oh I can't wait for Constantine or another magic user meets the batclan for the first time #Just chanting “what the fuck” over and over because *wtf is up with that*#It's like a wooden homunculus thing mixed with a sacrifice and willing possession and so much that *Should Not* be a single creature #How many tags until Tumblr has the munchies and eats them #random thing but wasn't there one series of games or comics or whatever where the batfam had a robotic dog or two #I am *just saying*-#Clark: He don't bite #Batman hunched over like some sort of predator about to pounce with spikes out and rattling/clattering angrily:#Goons & Future JL members: YES HE DO #batman #bruce wayne #dc

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jasonscaramel · 6 months

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i guess only the stars would know the truth - chapter four - jason todd x reader

series summary: there's something going on in gotham. you transfer into gotham university's journalism program. simultaneously, people are going missing in gotham at record rates. it's only a matter of time before your curiosity gets the best of you.

words: 2.9k

ao3 | series masterlist

You were right about Gotham being a hub for activity to report on. This goldmine, however, makes it a bit difficult to find the specifics of what you’re looking for. Truly needle in a haystack territory, you think. Your morning had started early, you brewed a large pot of coffee to prepare yourself for the day ahead, and once it was ready, you began your research.

It had taken several hours straight of research and ignoring your homework to get to where you are now. You’d nailed down every article written about each of the attacks. Some were more thorough than others, but there was a throughline in each that you were able to pin down.

No matter the article, each eyewitness said there was at least a group of three people kidnapping the one person. That’s pretty standard, you assume. But there is something you find that’s a bit less standard.

Of the fourteen articles you found, only three mentioned what the kidnappers were wearing. And because of what was described, you’re not so sure how much weight to put into it, as it sounded a bit ridiculous.

These witnesses described the kidnappers as wearing owl masks.

Which, at first, you thought was a bit fucking absurd. Owls? But when you thought about it for more than thirty seconds, you remembered that’s probably the least absurd thing you’ve seen around Gotham. With that thought in mind, you began a long deep dive into Google to find out more about the owl masks.

And unfortunately for you, owl masks gotham city wasn’t exactly yielding the results you were looking for. At one point in your research, you had to get another cup of coffee and pace around your apartment to keep from blowing a gasket.

So, here you are, several hours later, reading through old Gotham town records trying to find some mention of owl masks. You’d combed to the 1800s before you found anything you felt was remotely relevant.

The Court of Owls.

Huh. In your (limited) research into Gotham, you hadn’t heard of them before. A few searches into academic databases didn’t yield anything worth wasting time over. When you put it into Google, the only thing you found worthwhile was a book available at Gotham City Library.

Well, time to get a library card.

As you’re packing up a tote bag to go, you wonder if this is just a wild goose chase. If those witnesses were traumatized, they saw an owl nearby, and their brains created a weird connection. But now the issue is you need to know. That little voice in the back of your head isn’t letting this one go, and you can’t lie and say you don’t want to know what the hell is going on around here.

As you’re getting your shoes on, you hear your phone ding.

Tim: Hey, are you free to come over and work on the project later?

You: Yes! I have a couple errands to run, I can text you when I’m done

Tim: Sounds great.

The building in front of you looked more like an old church than a library. You idly wonder if it’s considered a landmark as you heave open one of the heavy double doors and enter the ornate space. As you approach the front desk, you’re met with an older woman in bright red glasses with a smile on her face. You think that this is the first time you’ve seen some southern hospitality up here.

“Hi, dear. What can I do for you?”

“Hi. Just a library card.”

It’s a quick, easy process. You hand over your ID, and a few moments later, she hands it back along with a fresh library card. You feel like an official Gothamite as you look it over. Everything feels so… official now. Set in stone. You really live here now.

“Anything else I can do for you?” She asks, and as much as you hate asking for anything, this place is way too large for you to find anything you’re looking for in a reasonable amount of time.

“Actually, I’m looking for a book, but I’m not sure where I’d find it. It’s, um,” you open your phone to make sure you get the name right. “Gotham Secret Societies Volume Two.”

You watch as her face contorts into confusion as she thinks for a moment before she nods. “We actually have an entire Gotham History section, I’m sure it’s in there. Follow me.”

She makes her way around the desk and leads you around the opulent, labyrinthian hallways. You wonder if you’ll be able to make it out of here without a guide. It’s hard to pay attention to the route when you’re distracted by stained glass windows and antique light fixtures.

She stops after entering a doorless entryway to a small room packed wall to wall with bookshelves.

“If we have any book related to Gotham, it’ll be here. Can I do anything else for you?”

You shake your head. “That’s it. Thank you so much.”

You take a deep breath before starting at the left-hand wall. You’ve got quite a bit to look through, but your spirits lift when you realize the books are in alphabetical order. Upon that realization, it doesn’t take you long to get where you need to be. You skip a few bookshelves to get to the Gs, and you’re able to find it pretty quickly after that.

As you pull it from the shelf, you flip it around to give it a once-over. It’s clearly pretty old, but still in good shape for a library book. You decide to flip open to the table of contents to see what’s in store for you, when you hear your name being stage whispered from behind you. Your head snaps up, and you look around to find the source of the sound.

There, at the entryway, you see Jason with two books in one of his hands. He’s got a grin on his face, and he waves slightly before he makes his way over to you. “Hey. Fancy running into you here. What d’you have there?”

Your face goes warm before you respond. “Hi. Good to see you. It’s, um, for a research project.” You flash him the cover, and he chuckles.

“Volume two, huh? Sounds riveting. Hey, I know a couple in the free masons if you need a source.”

Your brow quirks. Money, connections—what does this family not have? “I’m not sure if I do, but I’ll definitely let you know.” You pause, looking down and trying to figure out what books are in his hand. “What’d you get? I figured you had all the books you wanted at home.”

Jason laughed, a haughty sound that you couldn’t help but smile at. “I wish. I got the demon an anime book, and I got this for me.” He turns the book around, giving you a good look at the cover of Brave New World.

“You ever read anything from this century?”

A look of mock offense takes over Jason’s face as he struggles to stifle his smile. “You little—I’m not letting you get away with that.”

“What are you gonna do? Bore me to death by reading me one of your books?”

“Oh, that’s it, get over here.”

You let out a quiet yelp before bolting to the other side of the room. You weave in between bookshelves, hoping to lose him. As you look back to see if you can spot him, you run into something solid. You can’t help the surprised sound that leaves your mouth, and you drop the book and your phone to the ground.

“Gotcha.” Jason’s grinning as he leans down to grab your stuff. When he stands to his full height to hand them to you, he speaks again. “I wasn’t trying to be nosy, but your phone keeps vibrating.”

You smile. “Thanks.”

Tim: What’s up?

You: All done. I can head your way now

Tim: Need me to send a car?

You: Don’t worry about it

You look up at Jason, an attempt at puppy dog eyes covering your expression. He rolls his eyes expectantly. “Can I get a ride?”

“Of course, sweetheart. You’re lucky I didn’t take the bike today. Follow me.”

When you arrive at the manor, Jason opens the car door for you before you even realize he has gotten out. With a shy smile, you tell him thank you. He gives you a shy smile in return. Your face heats up, and you look at your shoes.

He opens the front door for you, and there stands Tim, an amused expression on his face.

“I guess that’s why you didn’t need a car.” He says. You give him an apologetic smile and he shakes his head. “Come on, let’s go finish this thing.” Tim turns around, expecting you to follow. You do, only you turn around to get one last look at Jason. He’s staring right back at you, a small smile on his face the whole time. You finally have to look away when you get to the stairs.

As you stare at Tim’s back, following him to the library, you can’t help but think about how kind Jason has been to you. He’s sweet, a quality you’re not used to seeing in men. Of course, you’ve only really spoken to him at surface level, but you really do like him so far. And his family seems to adore him, and that says a lot, too, you think. Despite how… chaotic they may seem on the outside, you can tell they all have a strong bond that’s very important to them. Seeing all fifty (exaggeration, you’re aware, but sometimes it feels like it) family members each regard Jason with the same reverence makes it easy to feel the same way about him.

You’re literally snapped out of your reverie by Tim’s hand in your face, as you’ve come to a full stop in front of the table in the library. Your face feels warm as you unload your bag and plop into a chair. Tim chuckles.

“What?” You ask, confused by his prying eyes as you open your laptop.

“Oh, come on. You showed up here with Jason and you’re just not gonna tell me what happened?” His eyes are alight with excitement. You hate to burst his bubble. (And your own.)

“It wasn’t like that. We ran into each other at the library and I asked him for a ride.” You tell him, loading up the project document on your laptop. He rolls his eyes.

“But you want it to be like that, right?”

“I mean…” You can feel your face go hot. “How could I not?” You put your elbows on the table and bury your face in your hands. Muffled, you say, “can we change the subject now?”

“Yeah, let’s finish this so you can go hang out with Jason more.”

You groan, Tim chuckles. After a brief pause, he speaks again.

“Seriously, though?” He says, and you sober up out of your embarrassment for a moment to pay attention. “He’s a great person, and he doesn’t… take interest in other people that often. I just think, whatever it is, it’d be good for the both of you.”

It was finally about 7 p.m. when the project came to a close and you were both satisfied with the finished product. It was exhausting, a lot of back and forth and finding sources for everything, but you were glad to have it completed so you could dedicate your time to other projects.

Like those fucking owls. As much as you’ve tried to stay focused while working on this project with Tim, there’s a part of your brain just itching to go home and crack open this book. This was the only tangible mention of The Court of Owls, and you were determined to follow this trail. Even if it leads to a dead end.

“You staying for dinner?” Tim asks, breaking you from your (obsessive) thoughts. You let out a sigh before you could control it—as great as dinner at the manor would be, you also neglected all your other schoolwork today.

“As much as I’d love to, I’ve got four billion assignments due by Sunday, and if I don’t start making a dent in them now, they’ll never get finished.”

Tim shakes his head, waving off your apologetic tone. “I get it. It’s like they purposely overload us this time of year. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

After loading your stuff back into your tote, you follow Tim out of the library and down the stairs. You perk up when you hear Jason’s voice in the foyer. Tim notices, ever the watchful eye, and you try to ignore the knowing smirk on his face by focusing on Jason’s voice.

“…think they’d follow us the whole—hey sweetheart. You staying for dinner?” Jason’s attention so quickly goes from his conversation with Alfred to you that you worry he’s given himself whiplash. The amused smile on Alfred’s face tells you he doesn’t mind.

“Hi to you too,” Tim says, poking Jason in the shoulder as he walks past him, and Jason retaliates by slapping him upside the head.

“I see you all the time.” The sour look on Jason’s face leaves immediately as he turns his attention back to you. “Dinner? It’s homemade pizza.”

You groan. “You’re making this so hard for me, I really need to go home.”

Alfred chimes in this time, “You’re sure we can’t convince you?”

With a sigh, you say, “Unfortunately, no. Believe me, if I had the time, I’d much prefer to be here.”

“At least let me drive you then,” Jason says, already fishing around in his pocket for his keys. You begin to shake your head, already writing that idea off.

“No, you don’t have to—”

“I insist, come on.” You give him a look, and he gives you one back, to the point where you both have a mini standoff to see who will break first. It still doesn’t look like you’re going to budge, so he says, “Just let me do this for you. Please?”

And fuck, how can you say no to that?

You just nod and follow his cues to say goodbye to Tim and Alfred. You ignore the sly smile on Tim’s face as you give them your goodbyes. You and Jason make your way to the garage, and get into the same flashy red sports car he put you in at the library. When you buckle in, he asks for your address, and you easily give it to him.

“Oh, Roy’s place. Cool.” He says as he begins pulling out of the never-ending driveway.

“Y’know, Tim said the same thing, but I’ve still yet to meet this Roy.”

“I’ll introduce you, don’t worry. Oh, hey, did you guys finish that project?”

You fall into easy conversation with him about school work and weather and just about anything else that pops into your mind. It just flows with him, you think, as you can’t help but stare at him while his attention is on the road. He’s so easy to talk to that you don’t even realize you’ve made it to your apartment building until he parallel parks the car and absolutely books it to make sure you don’t have to open your own door.

It’s sweet, and you can’t help your face heating up as you give him a small thank you. He shuts the car door behind you and walks with you to the door of your building.

“Thanks for the ride, I really appreciate it.” You smile up at him, unable to contain it even if you wanted to.

“It’s no problem, really, I wanted to make sure you got home safe.” He pauses, taking a deep breath and looking at his feet before returning to look in your eyes. “I also wanted to ask if you would maybe… want to go to dinner tomorrow night? There’s this Italian place that’s really good, but if you—”

“I’d love to go to dinner with you, Jason.” You’re grinning, one of those cheek-splitting smiles you just can’t help. He smiles back, and the look in his eye gives you butterflies. Everything about him gives you butterflies.

“I’ll pick you up at seven, if that works?”

“That’s perfect.”

His smile, if possible, grows even wider. “Perfect.”

“Goodnight, Jason.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

You turn to scan your key, and he’s there to open the door for you. As it shuts, you give him a wave goodbye. He returns it as he walks backward toward his car, a matching grin on his face.

And when he finally can’t see you anymore, you break out into a happy dance. Dance might be a generous word for it, as you were far too excited to put any thought into what you were doing. You’re too busy jumping up and down to notice the elevator beeping to signal its arrival, or the man hopping off the elevator and stopping in the hallway to watch you with an amused look on his face.

“You good?”

You jump, startled, turning to face the voice. With his red hair, trucker hat, and tank top combo, he reminds you of the kind of men you saw back home. The familiarity puts you at ease. “Hi. Very good. Sorry.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Good.”

When he exits through the front door, you continue your happy dance.

#jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you

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cloudvelundr · 17 days

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I found a book called the Big Dumb Bird Journal and since I've been sucked into Batman fic lately (mostly Jason tbh) I immediately jumped to the gothamite birding community... and the gotham "birding" community

honestly whatever gets me drawing it's been a bit

i imagine there would be forums and hashtags for each kinds, people posting pictures but also written and drawn entries like these and most are normal, but sometimes someone just posts the fucking mob boss the Red Hood on the feathered bird tag, because they think they're funny (and they are) like

and then there's the ones that should be normal but something is... off. gotham, ya'know?

#batman #nightwing #birds #velundr draws

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goth-pod · 2 months

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Question are you currently hiring?

If you are, can I get a job as a journalist

I'm so honored that you're interested in our project! However, I can't say goth-pod, small passion project between college grads that it is, is ready to hire people just yet.

But, we are always open to listener submissions. Especially as we plan for our second season, we're more open than ever to hear from Gothamites!

If you choose to send in something to show your journalism skills, be sure to give a name so we can credit you properly!

- Juda

#gothamite #gotham rp #gotham #dc universe #the batman #batman #gotham city #dc comics #Goth pod #gothamite rp #Juda talks #anon ask #gotham city podcast #dc comcis #batman comics

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deadinyourarea · 2 months

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I wonder if red robing has a journal like that, you know since he IS the stalker of the bats

RED ROBING

sorry- I love typos. Also from what I’ve heard from Gothamites, its more likely he had a PowerPoint on a universal usb that doesn’t even have to plug in.

oh- and it probably even knows the blood types of people who have never bled.

#dp x dc

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tarrenterror25 · 10 months

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thoughts no one asked for but my mind has no mouth and must scream

Alfred Pennyworth x Vampire!F!Reader

Rating: M

Word Count: 2.1K

Tags: horror, mentions of experimentation/chemicals, medical stuff, vampirism, blood, side effects of vampirism, victims of vampirism, blood withdrawal, biting, found family

Notes: This has bounced around in my head for awhile (as with most of my thoughts) and finally I had a breakthrough with it! Not only do I love vampires, but it was inspired by me thinking about how Alfred might be with someone who needs a different kind of taking care of from the standard illness and cuts and bruises. I hope you guys like it! I wrote most of this in one sitting and it's been in the drafts for awhile so I'm finishing it up, but it's not super cleaned up or anything, just wanted to get it out the drafts finally.

Line in the moodboard is from "I'm Not A Vampire" by Falling in Reverse.

Was it desperation?

Was it curiosity?

Were you looking for a cure of some kind? Jealous of whatever breakthrough he was on the verge? Were you merely clumsy and contaminated yourself?

Whatever the reason was didn't matter anymore. All you know is that you should not have messed with Kirk Langstrom's work.

It changed you.

Altered you.

God, it felt like fire under your skin, in your bones. It's was like you could feel the change brewing in your insides, your blood raced through your body and you could hear it. Your pulse throbbed at the points and it felt like hammers pounding.

You went home hoping to take a few days and get over your sickness, but it only progressed. For days you were sweating, coughing, not keeping any food down, and your body was constantly cramping making you fold and want to cave in on yourself. You asked yourself if this is what dying felt like, you were in so much pain. After a week, you caved, you picked up your phone to call for help. Just before you could finish dialing the emergency number, you blacked out.

When you woke up, you found yourself in a dark alley laying on the damp ground. You sat up and found yourself covered in blood; it was on your hands, your clothes and....your chin.

A bloodied and mangled body lay next to you.

And then the Batman showed up.

You were hysterical when he found you and he explained that you had been on the hunt for weeks now, feeding on the citizens of Gotham, lurking in the shadows, and evading him. You thought he would hurt you, arrest you, but what you didn't expect was for him to help you up and take you back to his home.

The Batman, Bruce Wayne, was and is still convinced he can help you, cure you, it'll just take some time, until then you've been at Wayne Tower recovering from your prolonged frenzied episode of draining Gothamites of their blood.

Enter Alfred Pennyworth.

When Bruce brought you to his home, he set you on a table in the batcave and the butler set aside his cane and immediately rolled up his sleeves to get to work on you.

The first few days at the Wayne home were tough; Alfred watched over you since Bruce was busy moonlighting as a vigilante. The butler set you up in a guest room to recover.

He kept a journal on a nearby end table in your room where he would take notes on your condition. He asked you standard medical questions, jotted down some observations, it was all very clinical and made you feel like....well, like a monster.

"Is...all of that really necessary?" you ask from where you sit up in the bed. "Well, if we are to cure you, then yes," Alfred replies matter of factly. "How come you never ask me anything else?" "What do you mean?" he asks placing his hands behind his back and looking to your curiously. "Like...how my day is? Or about the weather? Just...normal stuff." His brow quirks up a bit and he closes the journal, removing his glasses as he looks to you. He says, "Miss, you have been in this room for the past few days and as the one tasked with watching over you, I know very well how your day is and as for the weather, Gotham isn't known for its varying climate apart from the rain and fog, so not exactly a riveting topic." You actually chuckle at his snark and he smiles seeing that you take to his style of humor. "Then I'll ask about you then," you say.

From then, Alfred would come in, take his notes and make sure to sit with you to chat with you about...well, anything.

As for your vampirism, Bruce and Alfred were able to make note of your symptoms and condition: No sunlight. It won't disintegrate you like in the movies, but some component from Langstrom's formula made you susceptible to it. It hurts the hell out of your eyes, like they'll melt right out of their sockets and it makes your skin crawl, like a violent itch that's inside you. Artificial lights are okay, but it still hurts your eyes so Alfred keeps the curtains drawn in your room and tries to keep the rest of the home dimly lit if you're up and about. This does mean you've become a bit of a night owl. They found that you can see much better in the dark than the average human. In fact, all of your senses were heightened, not to superhuman levels, but far more than the average person. Also, yes, you indeed had fangs. They ache when you hunger and elongate. When they aren't out, they are still quite prominent in your mouth. You practice in the mirror talking in a way that doesn't bare them too much.

You don't have super strength, but you're stronger than you should be. Alfred came into your room and discovered "claw" marks on the wood floors. This was during the end of your first week when your withdrawal was setting in.

Blood.

Bruce and Alfred discovered that unfortunately you needed a sizeable intake of human blood in order to stay sane and lucid otherwise you would frenzy again. The pair was doing all they could to find a decent substitute, but you couldn't keep any of it down.

Finally, Bruce had to cave, you couldn't take it anymore and you needed sustenance. He left to retrieve something for you from the local blood bank. Alfred stayed beside you until Bruce could return.

You skin is clammy, sweat covering your body, your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head as the will to stay conscious and sane threatens to leave you. It's Alfred sitting in the bed with you, holding you, cradling you to him, telling you to fight your urge just a little longer that helps you stay lucid. You weakly wrap your arms around him, in tears because your body aches terribly, your teeth hurt, the root of your fangs throbbing in your gums as they beg to come out and tear into flesh. "I..I can't," you weakly say. "Yes," he says firmly as he holds you against him hoping to stifle your trembling body. "Yes, you can, just hold on a little longer." You look up at him with half lidded eyes. "I don't want to hurt you, Alfred," you plead softly. "You won't," he says firmly. The conviction in his voice, the trust he places in you wills you to hold out just that much longer. Finally, Bruce returns with sustenance for you.

Fast forward to now.

It's deemed that you aren't safe to leave the home unless it's an emergency. Bruce just doesn't want anything to happen to you or anyone else. He's not sure how tempted your condition will be to harm an innocent.

When he's able, Bruce continues working on a cure for you. In the meantime, he has finally managed to make a synthetic blood substitute for you so no more runs to the blood bank.

Alfred came to terms that you would be living with them for awhile so he's taken it upon himself to try and make you more comfortable with your condition.

You have a special part of the fridge dedicated to you. Alfred helps concoct the blood mixture and puts it into drink pouches that conceal the contents. And he was the one who suggested to Bruce to add flavor to them.

He's bought you black out curtains for your room and did his best to soundproof it a little so you won't hear him when he's bustling about doing his chores or work while you sleep.

Since he's the only person you really get to see, the two of you have grown quite close, like really close.

Alfred can't stay up for very long once the sun goes down, but he tries to for you. Since you can't really go anywhere, he's done his best to bring entertainment to you. It's become a hobby to sit on the couch together in the parlor and watch movies complete with popcorn and box candy, well, for Alfred anyways.

Human food was tricky now. Consuming it was off the table. You learned this when tried to scarf down a plate of food Alfred brought to you. It only took some ten minutes before it unceremoniously came back up. It left you in agony for a couple of days. Even tasting it was hard because it made you gag, but you could smell it. Despite not being able to consume it, you asked Alfred to teach you a few things around the kitchen.

You're a decent match at chess and since the two of you have nothing but time, you've convinced him to partake in other board/card games. There's a scoreboard on the fridge with tally marks under the three of you for each of your respective wins at Uno.

You asked Alfred if you could dive into the collection of books in the library since you're up alone at night with nothing to do. He happily obliges and eventually it becomes part of your routine for him to read to you in the morning. He wakes up, gets his morning coffee and eats breakfast just as you settle into bed for sleep. He comes to sit by your side and reads a few pages to you until you sleep.

Cooking, reading, gardening, games, and even some Batman related research, all things you and Alfred started doing together.

You physiology changed and you're kinda curious if...everything else works the same.

It does.

While sitting outside with you, soaking up the moonlight, Alfred looks at you for what feels like a minute too long to be any normal look. You find yourself glancing over at him more than usual, thighs pressing together when he gets close to you.

Alfred started off as being wary of you, but the more time he spends with you, he sees just another person, no matter the "how", a victim of circumstance. It ignites his need and desire to protect. And his kindness towards you where others would be scared has attracted you to him.

When the two of you finally admitted feelings and took things further, that's where it gets dicey.

Your first kiss with Alfred had the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as soon as his lips met yours and when his hand gently found its way to your waist you had to firmly push him away.

"I'm...I'm sorry," he says. "I've crossed a line haven't I?" You just stare at him, your hand still on his chest. Some hypotheticals churn in your mind before you grasp the front of his pressed shirt and tie and pull him to you for another kiss, a little more passion this time. He's taken aback by the strength with which you pull him to you, but responds to you. As soon as his tongue meets yours, you push him back again, hang your head and shake it. "No," you say with a sigh. "Can't do that." It was...awkward to explain to Alfred that your uh, feelings down below made you feel other things as well. "It feels the same like...like when I'm hungry. Like...really hungry," you explain. "I understand," he says with a soft smile and takes your hand in his. "We'll take it slow for now? How does that sound?"

Taking it slow was...difficult.

The two of you spent more time together, did more together, and never went past a chaste kiss or a warm embrace, but in your bones you wanted more. It was started to burn you like fire.

Even when the two of you graduated to soft touches and caresses, your heart pounded fervently. You needed more, but if you became too passionate you'd frenzy. But the slow pace was agonizing and borderline felt like torture.

But Alfred's understanding; the two of you find other ways to satisfy your needs in a way that doesn't compromise either of your safeties.

You jokingly suggested wearing a gag to keep you from biting him and the two of you laughed, but then a silence fell between the two of you. You both looked at each other and blinked, silently both considering the idea.

Some days, Alfred feels thankful for your circumstance as being at the Wayne home can be lonely. He appreciates the extra company to entertain. There's a dysfunctional element to household, but it certainly is starting to feel like the makings of a family.

#thoughts no one asked for #alfred pennyworth #gotham!alfred pennyworth x reader #thebatman!alfredpennyworth x reader #alfred pennyworth x reader #gotham!alfred pennyworth #thebatman!alfredpennyworth

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quandaryqueen · 2 years

Text

Mad Little Fucks

Jonathan Crane X Herbert West-like S/O

... I thought that this was a good idea. Probably out of character as well.

Herbert West, mad scientist, riddled with god complex and megalomania, one of many love of my life, is from Re-animator.

🧡 Instant mutual respect and interest towards one another's work. Hell ye, comrades in science. Nothing sexual here, no siree. Only science!

🧡 Jokes aside, he truly is intrigue by your curious little concoction. Bringing the dead back to life? Such an ambitious feat to carry. He'd say impossible, but as a Gothamite, he has seen shit. There you were proving him right, as you scurry like a mad lad for scraps of evidence and new breakthroughs, stopping at nothing and those who try to get in your way will be eliminated.

🧡 How you'd jump at the opportunity to get your hands deep in dirt, utilise your surrounding to get what you want, how unafraid you are... He finds it admirable. Adorable. Just an absolute opportunistic dork who lights up at the sight of possibilities.

🧡 How long will he develop the feels for you because of your intense passion and continuous attempts to perfect your serum, though the road was bumpy and the trials were difficult, you grow ever so persistent in every failure? Slow burn. A romance with Jon, regardless of who ever is the reader, it's always a slow burn.

🧡 Your collaboration would be the stuff of nightmares. Dead people, fear, reanimation, chemicals, syringes, gases, just a pair of unhinged, unstoppable, unbelievable union of comrades in science! And he loves it. The pleasant pinch in his gut whenever he sees you engaged in your work... Or you in general.

🧡 "Doctor L/N, I see that your recent concoction didn't succeed in your eyes?" He notes the absence of the specimen you were tending to on the makeshift autopsy table earlier.

"You don't have to sugarcoat your words, Doctor, I'm no Nygma." You looked up from your journal to playfully narrow your eyes at him, before you scribbled away. "The recent specimen was... Uncooperative."

Jonathan chuckles in response, eyeing your bloodstained clothing. "I see that."

The Scarecrow's gaze falls upon your countenance, admiration softly shading his eyes to see the passion burning within you despite the countless failures you face.

What you do was no easy feat, well he could say the same for his experiments, but of course you have your own field of science. You needed to acquire bodies, fresh ones. In need to discover which mixture would work, the dosage. And based on your collection of journals where you list your trials and errors, he'd say you have gone quite a journey through attempting to defy death. No matter how many times you were stuck between a rock and a hard place, you manage to slither away just in time.

"Jonathan?" He snaps from his reverie, the sound of his name on your lips making his face flare with the flames of fluster. "Something wrong?"

"N-No... Not at all."

You were doubtful that he was telling the truth, but you wouldn't pry. Mentally shrugging, you continue with your work.

🧡 Would help you with your scientific endeavours just as you'd help him with his.

"This one's dead. Heart attack just about now." He steps aside to offer you fresh meat on the slab.

"Thank you, Doctor." You smiled over your shoulder before equipping yourself with a syringe filled with the glowing green liquid. "Administering tem cc's to the patient..." You whisper to yourself, sticking the needle in the patient's neck before pressing the plunger.

Gently tugging on the syringe, your analytic gaze remain on the man on the slab, keeping active for any small movements. A minute has passed and you weren't even sure if you've even taken a moment to breathe yet. What could have possibly gone wrong? The body is fresh, Jonathan guaranteed it, heck, he didn't need to, you saw it with your own eyes how his fear toxin worked so effortlessly! You were considering whether you should add another dosage, but those were one of the last--!

"Boo!"

You jumped from where you stood when you felt Jonathan suddenly jerks behind you, roughly placing his hand on your shoulder. He began to laugh to see you snap from your reverie and by the time you gathered your bearings, you turn to glare at him as he too collected his bearings.

"You should have seen your face--" the humour in his eyes drains, as he pales at the sight of something behind you.

Not wanting to take a wild guess, you turn to your back once again to see your experiment working. However, before you can observe the specimen further, he thrashes and swipes at you. Jonathan pulls you back and holds a protective hand in front of you, whilst he readies his scythe.

You watch as the test subject thrash and rip it's vocal cords out with his excessive yelling, his nails digging and scraping into his scalp and pulling his hair out. Once he lays his sight on you once again, it lunges forward with his bloodied hands aiming to claw your throat out when Jonathan came with a swing of his scythe, lodging the blade into the undead's neck.

Jonathan wasn't aware of you glaring at him for subjecting your experiment through this pain, when all you needed was to make an observation out of your first success in a while. The reanimated man stumbles back with the scythe still stuck on his neck, he pulls it and tosses it away. Having been attracted to Jonathan after the Doctor's attack, the reanimated grabs Jonathan by his shoulders and attempts to take a bite out of him. The Scarecrow can only struggle in the undead's grip, evading the attacks bestowed upon him whilst you watch.

I mean... You could just watch and observe just what the reanimated creature you created in motion, the man wasn't this string when he was... Well, alive. Your serum must have tapped into boosting his strength, the only downside would that be of their lack of consciousness... Or are they still conscious? Was it attacking blindly? Does the fear toxin still have an--

"Y/N!" Jonathan yells out of desperation.

... or you could save your friend.

Jonathan was at the brink of death, his eyes wide at the fact that the monster had finally adapted deem it effective to grab Jonathan by his wrist. But before your magnum opus could latch his teeth against Jonathan's neck, you came with a warning in the form of a buzz of an electric saw. Red blossoms on his chest, some of it splattering all over Jonathan's shirt and the corpse collapsed, revealing you standing with an electric saw, hands soaked with red.

"What was taking you so long?" Jonathan pants, resisting the urge to grab you by the neck.

"I was..." You watch him collapse on his bottom, panting heavily beside the once again corpse. "Making some observations."

"Observations my ass! I could've died!"

"But you didn't, did you?" He narrows his gaze at you when you offered him your red soaked hand. Nevertheless, he takes it and you helped him up to his feet once again. "I must admit, this is a breakthrough! If only I could have inspected him closer, I could have-- LOOK OUT!"

"WHA-?!" Jonathan practically jumped out of his skin, his neck snapping to glance at the corpse you were pointing at and in his frazzled state, he didn't notice it was a joke until you started to laugh beside him. Once collecting his wits, he glares at you... But he supposes this is payback.

He will get you back, just you wait.

#jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #dc x reader #dc x you #scarecrow x you #reanimator au #gotham rogues

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gothamexhibit · 1 year

Text

Story Journal | Batman: Year One

"Without warning, it comes ... crashing through the window of your study ... and mine ... I have seen it before ... somewhere ... it frightened me ... as a boy ... frightened me ... yes. Father. I shall become a bat."

Batman: Year One (Four Issues)

Written by: Frank Miller

Illustrated by: David Mazzucchelli

Colorist: Richmond Lewis

Letterer: Todd Klien

Editor: Denny O’Neil

Overview

In a story that clearly belongs to Jim Gordon, this early days of Gotham’s new face builds a strong foundation of what’s to come. The ever encroaching new age of Gotham. It shows motivation and growth of how these characters become who we may know them to be, but also who they used to be.

Gordon’s mentality that eats him away, but still keeps him moving forward. A disillusioned man who, by all accounts, has completely given up on everything, but he still pushes forward. His personality is nonchalant and gives the impression that he doesn’t care. And yet, he throws himself into the fire if it means he can make a difference. Of course he’s not perfect. Far from it. But Gotham can take what it can get.

Bruce not only constantly messes up, but it nearly costs him his life and his identity each time. He’s not the world's greatest detective, or the legendary Dark Knight. He’s simply a man with money and training, but no experience. He’s reckless and risky and, as he states again and again, lucky. A lucky amateur that believes in an ideology that leads him to become one of the world’s greatest superheroes despite being an ordinary human.

================================================================

Art Analysis

The art fits the story perfectly. It leans into the mud that is Gotham City, while allowing scenes to breathe.

It conveys motion in a way that makes the reader feel like they get glimpses of the action. It doesn’t linger on a fight that doesn’t need to be detailed. It tells the story of what’s happening around it and how.

It paints Gotham with both a crowded, claustrophobic atmosphere and a spacious, lonely city. There is a distinct understanding that Gotham will suffocate you without a moment to spare, but the city can leave you in a sea of emptiness as well.

Color is purposeful. As detailed as scenes can be in one scene, a simple one-color background conveys shock, terror, or focus. With shadows not just showing mystery and confusion, but boldness.

A direct reference to the Nighthawks by Edward Hopper with the diner that Gorden and Essen frequent (not only is the diner referenced here, but it also can be seen to be referenced in the recent film The Batman).

The art shows clear direction. And it is through this art that not only elevates the narrative, but the characters and setting as well. Gotham feels alive.

================================================================

Narrative Analysis

Right away we get the juxtaposition between Gordon (not yet commissioner) and Bruce as they both enter Gotham city. Each preferring to enter the city the other way. Not only does it show how different their perspectives are, it sets up the interesting dynamic between their future relationship, before they even meet for the first time.

It may be important to note that Bruce is 25 when he returns to Gotham. Additionally, this story is a Year One story that leads up to his Batman persona. As such, he would begin being the Caped Crusader at 26.

With a 12 year hiatus from Gotham, that would make him 13 when he left. It’s interesting to see how Gotham doesn’t see a poor young boy being gone for so long seemingly by himself, but instead views Bruce Wayne as more of a Gotham attraction instead of a real person. This dissonance towards “figures of the public” may also lean towards how Gothamites don’t seem bothered enough to care when young Robins start to appear.

Not only is there a small line prior about Harvey Dent, we see Selina Kyle for the first time. We don’t just enter Gotham through the return of Gordon and Bruce, we enter into the inception of the Gotham we come to know later. An unsaveable city overrun with crime enters an attempt to save it by The Batman.

Although not yet the Caped Crusader, Bruce still makes his first mistake. A risky play that could’ve left him discovered if he didn’t barely get away. Batman’s reputation paints the picture of an intense, methodical vigilante that looks into the eyes of gods without flinching. But the first mistake Bruce Wayne puts him on the edge of unconsciousness and at a risk of bleeding to death. A mistake that shows a legend like Batman can be clumsy and reckless.

Without panic, without emotion. Jim Gordon issues payback on Flass who had recently assaulted Gordon. He understands the city and its rules and wastes no time to send his own message. This one moment gives plenty of insight into the kind of man Gordon can be. And will be. A man that sees corruption and takes matters into his own hands. The same very man that will not only support the vigilante Batman, but work side-by-side with him.

He understands that the city has a sickness, and Batman is the only antibody Gotham can produce.

We are constantly reminded that the biggest problem is corruption. The city may be rotting, but an infected bandaid will only make things worse. With eccentric villains to sprout later on, the root of Gotham’s inability to change for so long before Batman was the authority “sworn to protect.” The biggest gang in Gotham are the cops. As Bruce tries to save the city by targeting criminals, Gordon saves the city from within one of the biggest poisons in Gotham.

We see Gordon’s conflicting mindset. Something in the city must be calling to him. A savior complex or simply the inability to leave his new home and his job. He hates what he does and yet he pours his heart and soul into doing it the right way. He regrets bringing his son into Gotham even when he’s capable of leaving the city behind.

He’s self aware, but just can’t stop.

The city needs to be fixed and his subconscious is itching to fix it. Unbeknownst to him, it mirrors Bruce’s ideology.

More mistakes. Bruce is an amateur and even admits it. While attempting to stop teenagers from stealing, he almost kills one and barely makes it out. Clearly in over his own head, but he believes in what he’s doing. And believes Batman can make a difference.

Batman hid behind Harvey Dent’s desk while he and Gordon were talking.

I don’t have anything to say here. I just thought this was funny.

Although they still haven’t met since their first fight in the street, Bruce and Selina are seemingly connected. Just a simple yet effective comment on the siamese gives so much information on not just their connected understandings, but how, at the core, they are meant for each other. They are from completely different worlds, but can still meet each other halfway and see themselves in each other.

Even with gunfire lights up the building Bruce is trapped in, he still protects the cat. Even when it pains him, when it's unwise, when it makes no sense to do so, he still protects The Cat.

Even when he should run away, he runs forward. The man who is known for being concentrated on “the mission” and doing the best thing in the moment. Waste precious time to inflict retaliation on the SWAT member who targeted the cat.

The very act connects Bruce to Selina. Figuratively and literally.

The idea is mentioned by Gordon twice now. Even as early as Year One, he suspects Bruce of being Batman. Although Bruce has a clear alibi, Gordon doesn't seem convinced, but he doesn't push it either. Almost as if he doesn’t care. To Gordon, it doesn’t matter if Bruce is Batman or not.

It’s what he’s doing that matters.

One of the most crucial things to understand about Jim Gordon. He’s not just. He’s no superhero. He’s human. Very human.

If Jimmy Olsen views the world with optimistic wide-eyed wonder, Jim Gordon sees it with nihilistic mundanity.

He cheats on his wife with Detective Essen while his son is almost born. The opportunity was in front of him and he took it.

Gordon is one of the best people to help save Gotham.

But the bar is set incredibly low.

We even see this tear him apart. He understands his actions like he always has been. He hates the city, hates that he’s cheating on Barbara, and is conflicted on talking Batman down.

He’s lost. He knows he can’t keep cheating. But he just can’t stop.

Lost to a point where he contemplates suicide. He’s not a hero. Not anything special.

He’s human. Very Human.

In Year One’s final issue, we not only see Selina suit up for the first time, but we see Alfred finally. One of his first remarks points a nod towards Superman.

As Gordon’s son is almost taken as a hostage. Bruce dives off the bridge to save him. With Gordon following suit.

This very moment seeds many things. Although his son is incredibly young, this could inadvertently lead to change in his psyche. His son doesn’t exactly turn out to be the best young man and this incident could be a building block in that.

Jim may also be lying about his eyesight. Even with blurry vision, he could very well put in the effort to make out Bruce’s face in front of them. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe he doesn’t want to confirm his suspicions. Maybe he doesn’t need to. So maybe he doesn’t try.

It wouldn’t change his opinion on the vigilante regardless.

As Year One ends, we get a glimpse of the Gotham we clearly know. With Gordon working with Batman instead of against, with criminals getting more eccentric.

A city of grim corruption and rampant crime seemingly will only get worse before it gets better, if at all.

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gothamitejournal · 2 years

Text

Being in Gotham is like crack and drops on a Tuesday morning, while ur life falls apart, but aesthetically

#gotham #gothamite journal #why #dude my tree got stolen #my TREE #do u see what I mean??

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singswan-springswan · 4 months

Text

If I have to suffer the consequences of my compounded deranged delusion then so do you. take my hand

Jason Todd & omniscient OC drabble

words: 2391

summary: fresh off a duffle bag of heads, Jason takes a break from tearing up Gotham for a night of relaxed patrol. He stumbles upon a harmless curiosity.

warnings: swearing, mentions of death/beheading, organized crime, idk man it's the Red Hood

It’s not that late when he starts his rooftop circuit. The sky is dark. It always is. One thing for sure: the day shift’s come to a close by now, and Jason is the first of the filth to set out for work. What he’s doing isn’t work. Not really. It’s necessary: that’s all.

He’s finally here, in Gotham. Crime Alley. It took years to get here, to convince Talia he was sane enough, to wrangle the green in his peripheral and keep it there. It got better after the duffle bag, and every addition to his fledgling business makes it purr in satisfaction. He’s so focused these days, there’s nothing to do but stick to the plan. Patrols—when he cares to call them that—are a rarer happenstance. He’s treating himself tonight. Sionis killed one of his lieutenants the day before. Blind rage. Point to Hood. Things are going well for him.

He can’t stay still for long, of course. Patrol needs to be a flighty affair. Enforce his rules, onto the next. If he gets a quiet moment tonight, he’ll slip in his head, and that’s why he doesn’t do this often. For all his heightened anger, it sure disappears on a whim. He can’t have that. Hasn’t dared to have that. Not since the Pit. Patrol is like a vacation, after living in Nanda Parbat, and it’s the closest thing to home he has these days.

Usually, nothing happens on patrol. He’s planned it out that way. Break a few bones (usually not his), stop some muggings, maybe blow up a building or two. If he’s lucky. Usually he doesn’t have an honest idiot on his hands. Criminals, yes, because apparently the whole no kids rule didn’t resonate with everyone, but civilians? Civilian Gothamites aren’t stupid for anything. Unless you count living in Gotham.

This one might be fully dumb. He sees her in Sheldon, hunched over on a park bench. Thankfully, her stuff is consolidated—he can’t even see a purse at her side, but that small mercy is canceled out by the obvious lack of attention she sports. Her posture is wilted, like she’s been sitting there for hours, and she’s tensed in her dark hoodie against the growing night cold.

The sight gives Jason due pause, because no Gothamite is dumb enough to stay out late and alone with such a large lack of wit about them. Least of all women. Especially in Crime Alley. Given that, she’s either here to cause trouble in his territory, or she’s just an idiot. It’s Hood’s prerogative to investigate.

He disengages from the grapple with a quiet thwip, drops down to street level on quiet feet. Giving his position away with loud boots is not strategic in this circumstance. He’d rather go in with the element of surprise—within reason, anyway. If she was paying attention, she’d probably know he was there by now; but as Jason stalks up behind the park bench, the woman doesn’t even flinch. There’s a soft scratching noise. Her elbow flicks out every now and then. Right-handed?

Jason gets close enough to loom over her shoulder, and she still doesn’t notice. Her bench is between him and the streetlamp, so he hasn’t cast any telling shadows. In fact, he can see now that the lighting is convenient for her. It falls neatly in her lap: a creamy yellow. It’s a book. A journal of sorts. For the aged aesthetic, with leather binding and everything. Real leather: not that dumb plastic crap Jason’s grown to despise. She holds the book tight with one hand and scribbles with the other—not writing—slashing stark blood red with every stroke of her pen. What?

Jason stares. He’s trying to puzzle out what on earth she’s hoping to accomplish—and wondering if he shouldn’t be concerned, knowing that tamer shit has caused more harm in Gotham—when something truly magical happens. It can’t actually be magic. Magic doesn’t survive here. But this is a near miss. One moment, the creamy yellow paper is a mess of scrawling red, and the next: the mess takes shape. She tilts her wrist, scores out a few simple lines, and the landscape changes. Shifts. Suddenly Jason’s looking at a picture. A damn good one.

The woman carries on with the sketch, filling it out, adding shadows. It’s messy and harsh, but clearly masterful. She wields her pen with practiced confidence. Like it’s magic. And Jason could maybe understand why such an act turns faeries to ash.

He tilts his head for a better look.

So an artist in Crime Alley. What are the odds? If she’s really been out here as long as her posture suggests, she’s had plenty of time earlier in the night to make a Gotham-standard scene—and nothing has happened. Maybe she really is as harmless as she appears. Maybe she is just certified stupid. This zoned in on her pretty little book, she’s a sitting duck for gangsters and muggers and other generic scum. Stupid lady. Pretty drawing though.

Jason’s never really seen art like this up close. As he recalled, the Demon Baby tried, when he thought no one was looking. But Jason never acted buddy-buddy with Talia’s precious knife brat, and down-time sketch sessions were never on the docket in Nanda Parbat. It’s kind of cool to see the process. A bit jarring, the way this lady does it, but that seems like her standard operating procedure. Jason has just mused about this when his brain catches up to his eyes.

Hang on. That’s… that’s him. She’s drawn a figure swooping through the air, and it’s him. Jason blinks.

Then mentally kicks himself. There are three other sketches on that page—completed—and they’re all him. The Red Hood. Varying poses: each unbelievably expressive, dramatic, scratched into the paper with drawling nonchalance, proud and swaggering and filled to the brim with grace. Like he’s an acrobat or something. The one she’s just finished makes it look like he can fly. She made him look beautiful.

For the first time in years, Jason can’t see the faintest tint of green.

He should be annoyed. The Red Hood isn’t a fucking vigilante hero: he’s an up and coming Rogue—Jason’s had no delusions about that. He should be pissed that she’s glorifying his gritty bloody persona into something better, but he really can’t be mad. What she’s drawn is gritty: it’s unrefined and imperfect raw and she even drew in red. In such a soothing color. It’s really fucking cool. Jason thinks about being annoyed and brushes the idea away (it’s not as hard as he thought). Would it really hurt if Crime Alley liked him? If random civilians thought well of him? The strategic part of his brain has to admit that a fanbase—while not factored into his original plan—would probably add a little weight to his final showdown with Bruce. And no, that wouldn’t hurt at all.

His leather jacket creaks as he folds his arms together, resting his elbows on the back of the bench. He leans close.

“Is that really what I look like?”

The knowledge that she’s not deaf is comforting (his ASL is broken at best). At the sound of his voice by her ear, the woman jerks her arm hard, digging a long scratch of red across her page. She’s on her feet in a fumbled second or two. The breath of a gasp chokes at the bottom of her throat.

Jason can’t help but be amused. He stays where he is. By now, it’s obvious that she’s not a threat, and he’s feeling relaxed about it, and he’s never been known for his manners, so he doesn’t straighten off the bench right away. On the bright side, it probably cuts into his intimidation factor. Which is good right now. He doesn’t want to spook the artist.

She’s frozen by the lamppost, squeezing her pen and half-open book in a clumsy grip, staring shocked at the whites of his lenses. Her hoodie is a Knights hoodie. It looks old, and it’s a few sizes too large. He didn’t think she was this short.

Her mouth hangs open just the slightest bit. She’s looking at him with a fair amount of holy reverence, equal parts fear and awe: stunned speechless. It’s kind of cute. Jason takes a second to feel good about himself.

“What?” He clips out, after a prolonged standoff where she fails to exhibit signs of life.

Her fingertips are pressed so tight against the leather of her book, they’ve gone white. Her lips form a soundless word that looks familiar, but Jason wasn’t paying enough attention in time to catch it.

He pushes away from the bench. She’s still staring.

“Are you having a stroke?” He doesn’t have time to rush to a hospital, dammit, but he wouldn’t feel good leaving her in the dark on her own, in Crime Fucking Alley of all places. He crosses his fingers. “Please don’t do that.”

She blinks, jerks her head a bit with the motion. “Hood.” She finally breathes out—finally breathes—and her voice is thick. “You’re the Red Hood.”

“And you’re an A-list detective.”

Her lips twitch. Up. The expression on her face is close to wonder, and her eyes are dazed, and Jason’s initial amusement starts to fade the longer this weird interaction drags on. Why is she looking at him like that? Like he’s—fucking Superman or something? He’s not a gift from above or whatever. At the very least, she should be quaking in her proverbial boots. (Jason spares a quick glance at her shoes. They’re not boots; they’re sneakers. Old and well-worn, but in good shape. She tied the laces pretty. He doesn’t tell her he likes them).

Talia made sure he knew how to use the entirety of his frame, every inch of six-foot-four and broad like a fridge like Bruce, trained with the agility of a bird. “Assassin” was the word she used. But Jason said bird. It made more sense to him. Whatever the case, Talia trained him to press his visible advantage, to use his looks to strike a chord. Posturing like a well-trained killer at some random Gotham civilian should have made her flinch at least. Right now, Jason would be happy just to see her breathe. She’s going to make herself pass out; the freak.

“You do.” The pen fidgets between stiff fingers. Those few words seem to take great effort.

Jason blinks. He what?

“I mean—you look cool. A lot. And I uh, tried to do you justice but maybe it’s not on par yet.” She turns the book idly, scraping the leather with a nail or two. Like the afterthought of showing him her work again lingers in the subconscious.

Oh, that’s an answer. She says he really does look that cool. Maybe. Is she asking if the art meets a standard? He’s really not the person to critique. He liked it. Not that he plans to admit as much.

“I’m flattered.” Wow. He wants to shoot himself. Thankfully, the vocoder neutralizes his sincerity, and the comment sounds dry.

Apparently asking her to be taken aback by it is too much. The levity in her features brightens, for some God-forsaken reason. What the fuck is Jason supposed to do with that?

“Didn’t realize your shift started.” She says, after a few awkward seconds of ogling. Her expression solidifies the slightest bit. There’s… a new twinkle in her eye. Behind the resolve. Jason can see it barely, after years and years learning to read subtle facial tells. He can’t find anything sinister about it, but unease flickers at the back of his mind anyway. Why is she staring at him like that? What on earth does she know?

“Clocking in early?” She tilts her head at the question, all innocent curiosity that makes Jason itch. “Oh,” For half a second, her eyes go mad. “Glocking in early. Pfft. I’m hilarious.”

Jason hadn’t realized his hand shifted to his holster until she mentioned the guns. Alright, that was cute while it lasted. “It’s nine PM, sweetheart.” He growls, daring to take a firm step forward. She still doesn’t flinch. “We don’t appreciate humor this late at night.”

Of—of all things—that gets a rise out of her?

Nimble hands stutter on the book, and her face goes slack. Eyes snapping wide. “Oh.” She sounds sorry. “I’m sorry. Kriff—I didn’t mean—is it that late already? I thought—”

“You’re a moron.” Jason tells her in a flat voice, because she is. No one who loses track of nightfall in Gotham city isn’t anything shy of stupid. Least of all a young woman on her own. It’s a miracle she hadn’t already been kidnapped. Or murdered. Or worse. A miracle, or he’s been doing the city a few favors. But Jason hasn't been home that long.

“Sorry—sorry.” Her hands tighten on the book, and her gaze drops away. Omniscient gleam and all. If it weren’t for the bad lighting, Jason might entertain the idea of a flush on her cheeks. “I’ll get going. Thanks for… not leaving me out here.”

“I’m not walking you home.” He says bluntly.

“I meant: thank you for the time check.”

She’s wearing a watch, half visible beneath the hoodie sleeve. It’s working. The time is right. Either she deliberately ignored it, or she was so engrossed in her drawings of him that she never bothered to glance over. The second possibility sounds downright outlandish. But she’s not lying; he can tell.

Jason considers the weirdo for another second. Honestly, it’s not a crime to be an oddity. A huge inconvenience, sure, but not morally compromised or anything. Fucking Batman is a thing, for fuck’s sake. Comparatively, having poor situational awareness is tame. She’s definitely harmless. She drew him.

“Get your head on straight.” He says, annoyed. Or, what would pass as annoyed. It’s only ten minutes of his night. In the grand scheme of his plans, he can afford the detour, especially to treat his eyes to the book she’s holding close. He’s not really annoyed. The interaction balances itself out. But he does have an image to uphold, so before she can go back to being all starry eyed over a serial killer drug lord, he whips out his grapple and high tails it. Stupid fucking weirdo artists ‘n shit. Freak.

(He does see her home, in the end. She doesn’t live far).

#it's me I'm the omniscient oc #this is the product of an ill mind #idk where I was going with this other than I needed it out of my head #self-insert character because I have a huge crush on Jason and apparently my brain decided to weaponize that against my mental stability #okay but actually jason is such an interesting character to write #his voice is so unique and spirited #and normally I don't write swearing but like #if I don't do that for Jason it'd be OUT of character my guy #Jason Todd #the red hood #my writing #word vomit #tw swearing #tw guns #jason todd/oc

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ao3feed-brucewayne · 1 year

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Someday at Christmas

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/P0srzDc

by sunwashigh

It's Christmas Eve in hurting Gotham. The flood waters have been mostly drained, but the people are still stranded and stressed, many without homes and thus without Christmas. This year, something about dining and celebrating seemed wrong as I came across the many hurt Gothamites who seek shelter in the overflowed hotels and motels scattered across the city. Crime has skyrocketed throughout as well. I need help to keep up with it. Neither can Gordon. We try our best, knowing something is brewing on the horizon that we can't see yet.

Words: 2004, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The Batman (Movie 2022), Batman - All Media Types

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne, Victor Fries

Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Dory (The Batman Movie 2022) & Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne

Additional Tags: Post-The Batman (Movie 2022), Holidays, Soft Bruce Wayne, Angst with a Happy Ending, Diary/Journal, sort of supplemental, Christmas, Character Study, Angst

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/P0srzDc

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the cape crusader #gotham #dc universe #ao3 #ao3feed

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justgothamchatter · 3 years

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Look if the bats can wear masks for a solid twenty years at this point, you can too.

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galacticgothamite · 4 years

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A Gothamite's Journal

Date: March 14, 2020

Time: 11:44 A.M.

You know your day will turn out well when you find a batarang littered on the ground or in an abandoned warehouse!(Just don't ask why i'd be in an abandoned warehouse.) After I found it, no one attemped to mug me or much less come within six feet of me!

Honestly, it was a great feeling. People parted like the red sea! Not to mention it felt badass to be twirling the batarang between my fingers.

I just hope this isn't another one of those explosive ones.

#the batman #gothamite #batman #onlyingotham #gotham journal #average gothamite #batarang #gotham #gotham city #journal #day two of journal entry #gothamites #haha #batman and his wards need to clean up better after themselves!#gotham writer #a gothamites journal

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a-la-la-llama · 4 years

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The One Where Marinette Kicks Butt #7

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8

It was a normal day at work, Marinette helped Ivy tend to the plants. Said flowers complained about everything and no matter what, could never decide what music they wanted to listen to to help them grow! After the whole you are not safe without the kwami’s protection, Marinette had to stop Plagg from eating flowers he deemed were cheese. Tikki kept eyeing the aphids and would snack on them when no one was looking. Sass kept coiling his tail too tight around the stems. Nooroo wouldn’t stop drinking the nectars. Pollen was pollinating. Then lastly, Orikko was plucking the daisies petals off one by one. To sum it all up, it was a pretty normal day.

Closing was easy since they didn’t have any last minute orders for the next day. Once the doors were locked, Ivy waved her off and they went in different directions.

They always closed at six-thirty and were out by seven o’clock. Gotham was beginning to change towards fall in late September, however, so the sun would start setting at seven instead of the usual eight to eight-thirty. Marinette lived fifteen minutes away and was a relatively small stature girl. She also had on her school uniform which meant everyone who saw her knew she was just a teenager. Do you see the problem yet? Can you guess what was bound to happen? Let’s set the scene, shall we!

Marinette had noticed them when she was walking by and one of the two men brushed her with his shoulder. Even though he was the one to run into her Marinette swiftly apologised and went on her way. She was eight minutes from her apartment and turning a corner when she noticed that they were not far behind her.

The problem was that they had been going the opposite way beforehand. So she tried to do what a normal person without pocket gods would do in this situation. She didn’t want to lead them home so she stuck with the few crowds there, trying to lose them. But night was approaching, slowly fewer and fewer people were out.

Marinette considered going into a coffee shop that was open but what good would that do if they just waited for her to exit. It’s not like she could afford to have a phone and even then she only knew a few people in Gotham. She was just deciding on how to locate a police or fire station when she was yanked backwards by her arm. Into a gosh darn alleyway.

Seriously, if they have the highest crime rates, and most of them happened in alleys, why do they have so many alleyways! Especially dark and dead end ones like where Marinette was standing. A normal person would be terrified but Marinette wasn’t a normal girl, but she couldn’t let them know that. For all they knew, they just cornered a helpless girl that was scared of the two men twice her size. When really they were the ones who fell into the trap of a powerful god wielding girl with no escape.

“Look who we finally caught, can’t run now.”, the blonde one taughted.

“She almost looks like a Wayne. If we could convince the boss, she’ll be worth a lot more than those other girls.”, the brunette one suggested.

Who was even a Wayne and why did she look like them? Was it the blue hair, she’d never seen others that had a natural blue like her besides her mom and Kagami. It must be her eyes, but lots of people could have blue eyes, especially in America. The blonde pulled a needle out of his pocket.

“Now just make this easy and stay still so we don’t have to hurt that pretty little face of yours!”, he sneered.

Kwami, what were these awful attempts of being intimidating? She’s seen chihuahuas do much better. Plagg’s destructive energy was pulsing through her backpack, along with everyone else but he was the strongest. Why did cats have to be so territorial, she would have to put an end to this before the magic got out of hand. None of them wanted another Pompeii, Atlantis, or Black Death on their hands. She allowed them to inch closer towards her as she started rambling nonsense in French. Better if they thought she didn’t know what was going on, they’re more likely to make arrogant mistakes. The blonde could tell she was overwhelmed and about to bolt so he quickly lunged at her, but she was faster. Next thing he knew, the needle meant for her neck was in his own as he fell unconscious.

Turning towards the brunette, he had pulled out a simple pocket knife. It wouldn’t do anything more than a flesh wound unless he hit a major artery or organ. She didn’t really want to fight the two just, you know, stop them from hurting her.

Taking off her backpack, she swung it by the strap and knocked the weapon out his hands. Tackling him was the next step and she used all of her body weight to keep him down long enough to slam the bag on his head. The egg shaped Kwami box felt like a load of brick. She should know, Marinette had dropped it on her toes multiple times! Just two hits and both her attackers were out cold.

Setting her bag back onto her bag, she stood up and straightened out her skirt. Good thing she didn’t tear any of her clothes or the two would have definitely woken up with black eyes. Marinette heard two feet gently land behind her at the entrance of the alley. Wouldn’t you know it, the blue-bird that Selina had told her about and decided to drop in. Of course, right after she finished dealing with the two herself!

“Je suis désolé de ce que je leur ai fait. Ils essayaient de me prendre mais je n'allais pas laisser ça arriver. Je dois y aller maintenant monsieur!”, she said, still playing the foreign card.

( I'm sorry about what I did to them. They were trying to take me but I wasn't going to let that happen. I must be going now sir! )

“C'est bien petite dame! Êtes-vous d'accord, vous ont-ils fait du mal?”, he answered. Marinette certainly didn’t expect him to know what she had said.

( It's alright little lady! Are you okay, did they hurt you? )

“Je vais bien. Je suis pressé, je dois y aller!”, she announced and rushed past him.

( I'm fine. I'm in a hurry, I have to go! )

Nightwing looked at what the tiny French left behind. Foreigners sure knew how to get the job done. What was even in that backpack of hers. The dude would surely have a concussion, but in the end he deserved it for trying to kidnap the girl. Gothamites could surely learn a thing or two from people like her. Now the question was what to do with the criminals. He could turn them into the police or inform Red Hood about them. One had mentioned other girls, so Red Hood would be the better option. He could investigate and find the chain and most likely rescue those who weren’t so lucky and already caught. Plus, the man had a soft-spot for any and all kids.

Nightwing thought back to the French girl. She really did look like a Wayne! Dark hair, blue eyes, seemed to have gotten herself in and out of trouble before. All she had to do was be an orphan and she’d fit the memo. The girl had a Gotham Academy uniform, maybe Damian knew her? Second thought, Damian probably didn’t talk to anybody in that darn school unless he had to, so that was out of the question. Something just wasn’t sitting right with him. He had seen her before but where? No, not her, those eyes. Nightwing had seen those eyes before.

He didn’t know how long he stood thinking in the alley but the realization hit him like a truck.

She was the freaking ghost that stole his favorite blanket!

Tag list

@legallyspawned @chocolate1721 @spartanxhunterx @dreamykitty25 @toodaloo-kangaroo @vixen-uchiha @loveswifi @amayakans @jeptwin @thewonderlandartist @buticaaba @books-and-left-behind-journals @gigibnl @aegyobutpsycho2 @crazylittlemunchkin @maribat-is-lifeblood @myazael @abrx2002 @pawsitivelymiraculous @silvergold-swirl @chaos-inperson @marichatcameback @olynix @ash-amg @elmokingkong @kitsunebell @yin-390 @indecisive-mess-named-me @jeminiikrystal @startouchedqueen1318

#maribat #The One Where Marinette

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