#Oswald was a caring father

[wwordsworth]

The day Oswald disappeared.

[imaginationblur]

I am cringe but I am free

Funny 420 number haha… unless?

I gave Oswald and Ortensia proper kids with names and junk bc I have brain rot (I had this sitting for 3 years I just cleaned it up yet again)

[wishfulsketching]

Nono, but imagine the dynamics of that family for a moment: Oswald spoiling them as his mother did with more paranoia for safety with his son returned and after those ten years separated from his Ed, Martin wanting to learn from his criminal parents and being treated like a child many times despite having 20 and Ed returning to his malewife era with gusto (I mean look at him in season 3-5) and working for having a good father-son bond but afraid to end like his father---- And at the end of the day they're a happy loving family anyways, with murder in the middle but who cares

Oh no. Nnnoo don't make me go crazy with this family concept

Ed should teach Martin to make wacky weapons and bombs too

maybe they should make some deadly umbrellas.....

[bruciemilf]

I think a " No Robins" AU would be really cool, because while yes, there's no Batman without Robin, can you IMAGINE the cuteness?

By " no robin" I don't mean the boys (Dick and Jason, but later everyone else) stay home, completely unaware of their Goth rat father fighting crime. They absolutely know he's batman and they ABSOLUTELY want kicks in.

But Bruce won't just let his children dive head first in Gotham’s crime pool. So he does what he does best; Pretend.

" B! Are we there yet?"

" Almost. Finish your chocolate milk so Jason can finish his."

" He's always copying me!"

" No I'm not!"

" nO iM nOt, "

Jason kicking his little legs in the child seat? Adorable. "B!"

Bruce is simply blocking this out. He's been driving in circles for two hours and when they finally fall asleep, he takes care of business, gets the robbers tied up, and by the time the boys wake up, he's like,

" You caught them. Good job."

The GCPD has to be useful SOMEHOW, so Gordon and Martinez take them to help look for "evidence." Yes, the evidence happens to be at the park

Even the Rogues are on board? Selina doesn't mind playing hurt when Dick hits her with a "batarang" from the local toy store. She decides to take it over the top and play dead, going limp,

" You killed her!" Jason screeches, because they LIKE Selina,

Bruce, completely calm as Tim pokes a shaking Selina with a stick, " Robin. What have you done."

Naturally, Dick wails, but luckily, she miraculously "comes back to life" and tells them cats really do have 9 lives. " You owe me so many diamonds, baby"

Bruce shrugs, patting Dick on the back, " You owe me therapy money,"

" Tch. Rich prick."

Harley and Ivy "fight" the birds a lot, but it's just Harley complimenting and hyping up Dick's gymnastics while Ivy swings them around with vines like carnival rides,

When Harley's "arrested", she pulls Bruce aside and is like, " Hey, maybe look into ADHD and autism, pretty sure they all have it, "

" Impossible? That's genetic. I have neither."

" ...1) They're adopted. 2) I have some news for you."

Harvey WILL kill Bruce on sight if he ever tells ANYONE he helped Jason and Tim tie him up with jumping cords. It's already bad enough that video of him slipping on bubblegum bombs (deactivated) is viral

" Okay, now three loops and around, -- Jason, that's a cat bridge."

" I'm NOT Jason Mr. Dent!"

" Right, ROBIN, -- can you at least gag this motherf-- this jerk? Jesus, Oswald, what'd you eat, death?"

Oz, tied back to back with Harvey, with marker all over his face, " Your MOTHER. I'M tired, KID, When's your old man coming back?"

" Dad says that if you miss bed time, you explode. Are you gonna explode, Mr. Penguin?"

"... I'm concerned that you're excited about it."

[misterfic]

A/N: I still don't know why I wrote this.

Title: The Penguin’s Prey

Summary: In the dark underbelly of Gotham, Oswald Cobblepot manipulates his power to break the one person who can serve as his trophy—Falcone’s daughter.

Pairing: Farrel!Penguin × Fem!Reader

Tags: Non-consensual Touching

_________________________

You trembled slightly, your back pressed against the cold, damp wall, knees drawn up as you stared at the man standing before you. Oswald Cobblepot—The Penguin. His name carried weight in Gotham’s underworld, but now, seeing him up close, the true menace behind his twisted smile was palpable. His scarred face, hardened by years of brutality, twisted into a smirk as he studied you. He waddled closer, his gait uneven but deliberate, each step resonating with the sickening realization that this man was capable of anything.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Oswald’s gravelly voice cut through the silence, laced with dark amusement. His eyes glinted as they traveled down your trembling form, noting your fear, savoring it. "Carmine Falcone's little girl. What a stroke of bad luck, huh?" He chuckled, but there was no warmth in the sound, only cold, sharp edges.

Your heart raced, the name of your father—the once untouchable crime lord of Gotham—now a curse. Ever since Falcone’s downfall, the power vacuum had turned the city into a battlefield, and you were caught in the crossfire. Oswald was determined to rise to the top, and being Falcone’s daughter put you directly in his path.

"Please," you whispered, your voice barely audible, but you knew pleading wouldn’t get you far. Not with him. "I didn’t do anything."

Oswald crouched down in front of you, his dark eyes never leaving yours. His hand reached out, a gloved finger trailing along your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. "Oh, sweetheart, I know you didn’t. But you see, this isn’t about what you’ve done." His voice was low, dangerously soft. "It’s about who you are. Carmine’s precious daughter. That alone makes you valuable. And I always knew one day I’d get my hands on something he cared about."

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening as his finger slid down your neck, a sickening sensation crawling over your skin. "You don’t have to do this," you breathed, trying to keep your voice steady, but the tremble was undeniable.

Oswald laughed softly, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your skin as he whispered, "Oh, but I do. You see, in this city, people only remember the strong, the ruthless. I’m going to show Gotham that the Penguin doesn’t just take what he wants—he takes everything."

Your breath hitched as his hand moved lower, his fingers grazing your collarbone before sliding down to the neckline of your dress. The darkness in his gaze deepened, and you felt a wave of panic wash over you. He was playing with you, relishing your fear, feeding off the power he held over you.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice dripping with twisted admiration. "Scared, trembling… but still so fucking beautiful. It’s almost a shame, really." His thumb brushed over the curve of your breast, and you flinched, unable to stop the tears from welling in your eyes.

Oswald grinned, clearly pleased with your reaction. "Your father… he always had everything handed to him. Power, respect, fear… women. But me? I had to earn it. Crawl through the dirt, claw my way to the top. And now, I get to enjoy the spoils."

His hand tightened on your thigh, fingers digging into your skin as he leaned in, his breath hot against your neck. "I bet Carmine never thought it would come to this, did he? His little girl, all alone with the Penguin." He chuckled darkly, his teeth grazing your earlobe, sending a jolt of fear through your body.

You squeezed your eyes shut, desperately trying to block out the sensation, but Oswald wasn’t going to let you forget. "Oh no, don’t close your eyes, sweetheart," he growled, his hand moving higher up your leg. "I want you to see who has the power now."

You whimpered softly, your body trembling uncontrollably, but you forced your eyes open, meeting his dark, predatory gaze. "Good girl," he purred, his hand inching higher, teasing the hem of your dress. "Now, let’s see just how much power I can take from you."

You could feel the darkness closing in, the walls of Gotham’s underworld tightening around you as you realized there was no escaping this nightmare. Oswald Cobblepot had you exactly where he wanted you—powerless, vulnerable, and at his mercy.

[judesmoonbeauty]

Jude’ Past Records Highlights Chapters 1-3

These are highlights, and may not be 100% accurate as I’ve not researched these lines. New BG artwork is included.

Jude’s father was an Irish immigrant dock worker.

His mother was a British beauty from a well to do, or noble family. She married his dad and everything went to hell. She is sickly.

Jude has an older brother and younger sister. No names specified yet. (Please take the older brother part with a grain of salt).

Jude’s father wastes their very limited income on cigarettes and money. The children are sickly because of it.

Jude gets beat by his father for telling him to quit smoking so they can get better.

Jude’s mother sells all her clothes and jewelry to give cash to the father in order to keep Jude safe.

His mother teaches him to write his name in the dirt with a stick, and tells him he can survive if he has wisdom. She squeezes him tightly.

Jude and his mother have a good relationship.

He’s a cheeky little kid.

His mother died shortly after with Jude by her side. Her husband and older son are out drinking. She leaves his sister in his care and apologizes profusely. Jude says she has nothing to apologize for.

The children are forced to the attic sans big brother and they’re starved. Jude tries to sneak scraps from the dead beat’s left overs, but usually there’s nothing to eat at all.

His sister says that he’s sick too, but he say he’s fine, and she laughs that he’s always acting tough.

Jude resorts to his first crime, stealing an expensive-looking pocket watch from a corrupted wealthy guy. It’s a fake though. The pawn shop keeper says that there’s nothing but inferior products on the market lately.

Jude runs away as he’s accused of stealing it.

Later, Jude takes his sister to the docks so they can get a check up by a doctor named Oswald who does charity checkups.

He tells Jude to be cured, it would take continuous medication. Out of desperation, Jude imitates his father and older brother by picking up a bottle, busting it and threatening Oswald, stating he’d pay him back double for the medication later.

The doc talks sense to Jude and Jude admits he’s right to himself. He tells Jude to read this medical book and to have it memorized the next time they meet.

Jude takes the book out of frustration because he feels looked down on, as he’d basically only have a week to read the book before he sees the doctor again. He’s grateful to his mama for teaching him to read and write, and he studies night and day for a week. Not eating and barely sleeping.

The following week he recites the text book to the doctor who is amazed. He agrees to treat Jude and his sister, and steadily over time they start healing. Jude notes that the doctor treats them just like any other human and while that makes him frustrated, it also makes him feel happy to be an equal.

Jude opens up to Oswald that people want him to die, but he doesn’t want to die and isn’t going to. Oswald tells Jude that if people want him to die, then the best way to get revenge is to live. And so, Oswald also teaches Jude many things.

However, this relatively peaceful time doesn’t last…..

[tirnalilc]

Oz Cobb x falcone daughter reader.

contains spoilers for the last chapter.

English is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes :(.

I hate Oz, but that hate make me write this.

I love you; i'm sorry.

A tired sigh left her lips. She felt all her bones ache as she walked looking for her husband and Vic. She smiled just thinking about them. Vic had won her heart in so many ways. Victor would be someone powerful in the future, and she would be there to support him along with Oz. 

She saw them in the distance talking; she quickened her pace so she could join in the conversation, only to stop moments later; her whole body paralyzed, even stopping breathing for a few seconds as she witnessed what was happening in front of her. Her heart was begging to stop Oz from what he was doing, but her mind assured her there was a reason behind it. 

Seeing Oz kill Victor with his bare hands left her vulnerable. She turned her back to them as she put a hand to her mouth, covering her sobs. She cried silently until she stopped hearing Vic struggle. She heard the body falling to the ground and tried to wipe her tears quickly as she turned around. She saw Oswald going through Vic's wallet, throwing away his ID, and pulling out the money he had. 

Her husband's eyes met hers as she walked over to them.  

"May I say a final goodbye?" She asked in a whisper, and felt the tears forming in her eyes again. 

Oswald looked at him for a few seconds before nodding. 

"Sure, doll, but make it quick." 

She reached down, caressing Vic's face, lovingly and sadly. She rested her forehead with his.

"In another life you will not have this fate; I hope your family waited for you." 

She kissed his cheek, not caring about getting it wet with her tears. She looked up to see Oswald offering her his hand; she took it with a slight tremor. She looked for the last time at the young man who brought smiles to her face when she was sad, the young man who always helped her reconcile with Oswald, the young man who had so much to live for but got involved with the wrong people. 

They began to walk away, but without seeing him one last time, she sighed heavily, knowing that this was only the beginning with the new ruler of Gotham.  

Victor's death created a before and after; she squeezed Oz's hand tightly and looked at him. 

"He did something wrong, right?" 

"Yes, doll, he couldn't come with us this time." 

And she believed him. Victor earned a place in her heart, but Oz had a bigger place and always will.

At that moment she remembered his father's words.

"Some people were not born for this life, others were always destined and only one wins the power."

As they walk away a proud smile appears on her face, her husband won that power.

tirnalilc.

[chocolix76]

Word count: 1,358

Dads are not supposed to be giant humanoid yellow rabbits with sunken blue eyes. Most of all, dads are not supposed to be robotic murderers.

Those were the only thoughts running through Oswald’s mind as he paced back and forth across his room, occasionally pausing as he listened for the tell tale metal thumps of the rabbit’s footsteps. The thing that was pretending to be his dad. 

Just a few weeks ago, Oswald was sitting at a dirty wooden table at Jeff’s Pizzeria daydreaming about his first day in sixth grade. What new friends would he make when most of the town left after the mill closed? How much homework would he get in middle school? Oswald didn’t know that his life would soon be turned upside down by a time traveling ball pit and a killer robot that wanted to be his dad. This whole experience gave a new meaning to a saying his mother loved to abuse. Be careful what you wish for.

Minutes blended into an hour, Oswald pacing back and forth across his dimly lit room brainstorming ideas of how to get his father back without the rabbit catching him first. The rabbit had every opportunity to kill him by now. So why hadn’t it? Before he had the chance to grasp at reasons why the rabbit was playing with him like a cat before slaughtering its prey, Oswald heard the signature stomping of the rabbit approaching his bedroom. His breath caught in his throat as he immediately dove under his bed just as the robot slowly opened the door.

Light from the hallway poured into Oswald’s room, the rabbit’s massive figure casting a horrific shadow across his bed. As the robot lumbered into his room, its large head swiveling around in search of Oswald, he covered his mouth and nose with the palm of his hand attempting to muffle the sound of his ragged breathing. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears and for a moment, he feared the rabbit could hear it too. This was the end. He had nowhere to run and his mom was at work. For a fleeting moment he wondered how long it would take for his mother to find his body. Maybe the rabbit would erase him from her memory altogether.

Through the fringes of Oswald’s yellow and green checkered bedspread, he could see the rabbit approaching the side of the bed. Beads of sweat erupted on his forehead, his entire body trembling as the silence of the room was broken by the ear splitting squeaks of metal in severe need of oiling as the rabbit lowered itself to one knee. A large, yellow hand lifted up the bedspread, the rabbit’s piercing blue eyes illuminating the underside of the bed.

Bits and pieces of what he had seen through the doorway the night the rabbit stole his father away flashed before Oswald’s eyes. Five children not much younger than he were lying on the white and black checkered floor. Blood that nearly looked black in the dim lighting coating the floor and walls, staining the children’s clothing. None of them were moving. One body was facing the door, the corpse’s unseeing brown eyes boring into Oswald’s soul. He was next. He would become the sixth victim of the rabbit’s massacre. However, instead of grabbing Oswald’s arm and pulling him out from under the bed, the rabbit made a beckoning motion, stepping back to give him space to climb out from his hiding spot.

“What do you want from me?” Oswald demanded, hating how his voice wavered and cracked and how his body still trembled so violently he wasn’t confident his legs would be able to hold him. 

He wasn’t sure how he expected the rabbit to respond considering it couldn’t speak, or at least never made an effort to speak before, but it calmly motioning towards his desk was the last thing he expected. When caught between doing what the rabbit asked or risking facing its wrath, Oswald decided climbing out from under the bed and allowing himself to be guided towards his desk was the safest option.

The rabbit patted the swivel chair Oswald had picked out on a shopping trip with his parents before it took a seat on a wooden chair it had borrowed from the kitchen. The wood creaked and groaned under the robot’s weight, but the rabbit paid it no mind. It simply sat there patiently waiting for Oswald to sit down, its head tilted ever so slightly.

As Oswald slowly sat down, keeping the rabbit in his peripheral vision, he noticed that the robot had taken out a lined piece of paper and the instructions to his history essay, laying it neatly on the desk. Oswald glanced from the empty piece of paper to the rabbit who looked at him expectantly. Almost innocently. He fought back the urge to laugh, or cry, about the absurdity of it all. This was not his father, so why was it pretending to be? Was this some sort of cruel game?

He tried to take a pen to paper simply to please the imposter, terrified that his head would be crushed between the rabbit’s large, flat teeth if he didn’t do what he was asked. A few agonizing minutes ticked by, his mind unable to conjure any useful information to put together an introduction paragraph. All he could think of was the animatronic rabbit sitting within arms reach. It was impossible to focus like this and, somehow, the rabbit caught on.

In an eerie mimicry of a sigh, the rabbit placed one large hand on Oswald’s shoulder, leading him out of his seat and down the hallway with an almost parental care. Oswald wanted nothing more than to scream and run away, but that would do him more harm than good. The rabbit led Oswald to the dining room, pulling out a chair for him to sit down before disappearing into the kitchen.

The scratchy sound of distorted humming wafted from the kitchen along with the sounds of the rabbit rummaging around through the cabinets. Oswald glanced over his shoulder at the front door, wondering how easy it would be to slip through the rabbit’s fingers and escape to the pizzeria to have another crack at saving his father. However, what harm could humoring the rabbit do? Maybe it would make things a little easier on his end if the rabbit believed that Oswald had somewhat accepted him. 

The banging around in the cabinets soon came to an end as the rabbit produced a tray covered in snacks, placing the tray in front of Oswald before gently ruffling his hair with a giant hand. Air caught in Oswald’s throat as he stared down at the tray in front of him, imagining it as a giant pizza box. Was this the rabbit’s way of luring him into being its next victim, or was this the rabbit being genuinely kind? 

“Why are you being so nice to me? I saw you mur-…I saw you kidnap my dad. Why are you trying to help me with my homework and…do all this?” Oswald asked, staring at the rabbit expectantly. After a few seconds, he felt a bit stupid interrogating the mute animatronic. However, if it really wanted to answer, maybe it could write something down for him.

Instead, the rabbit simply shrugged. It nudged the tray closer to him, Oswald barely able to process the fact that the tray was neatly decorated with baby carrots and apple slices, a bag of chips sitting in the corner. Noticing something purple peeking out from underneath the bag of chips, Oswald moved it aside to see that the rabbit had drawn a little heart on a purple sticky note, along with a childish portrait of Oswald underneath. Abruptly, any trace of an appetite vanished as he stared at the sticky note in terror, unsure if it was a taunt or a genuine proclamation of parental affection. At this point, he wasn’t sure which was worse.

All he knew was that he needed to get his real dad back and soon.

[neathyingenue]

What’s been going on with Silvia?

An update ft. sticky note doodles

After hearing that her dear friend the Six-Finger’d Scrimshander was living somewhere that wasn’t a house, Silvia has installed it in the guest room of her Side-Streets flat, where they’ve been getting along swimmingly.

Her professional life is going great! Ever since she and Lord Oswald J. Emerson struck a bargain—he writes silly plays, Silvia writes silly reviews, they create public beef that sells tickets and papers—the Prodigal Plebian has practically been printing itself.

Silvia’s also made a new friend, one Youthful Naturalist! She’s been lending him a hand where she can—trying to convince him to move out of his rookery, and keeping her kitchen stocked with jellied eels should he come over, and taking him wherever he wants to go in her zee-clipper.

In the meantime, she’s been growing frustrated with her lack of progress regarding her research on the Third City. If you’ve been with Silvia for a while, you’ll recall that she has been learning Yucatec Maya and chasing leads to discover if there are any pockets of Third City inhabitants untouched by colonialism where she could convince her remaining dad to move with her. (Hm? Inherently contradictory logic? What inherently contradictory logic?)

Enter the Sixth Coil and the freed captives. Several of them are from the original Third City. Silvia follows them to Venderbight, uses her broken Yucatec Maya to explain what she’s after—

They tell her: There’s no such place as you’re describing. We hang around in Venderbight, but even now, there’s nowhere untouched by the Masters, by London.

Silvia presses them—No, there has to be, maybe you just don’t want me there? Why not? Why won’t you let me in?? I promise I’m trustworthy, I won’t tell—

And she finally realizes that she sounds like a fucking conquistador.

Welp! No better cure for a crumbling belief system and self-perception than to zail as far away from your problems as possible! She and the Youthful Naturalist fuck off for a while and that’s when the Delight gets wind of them.

Speaking of wind. The Wax-Wind catches up with Silvia’s ship. Silvia gets a bad burn across the right side of her neck and shoulders.

Not to just rehash everything that happens ever in Evolution, but, uh, shit hits the fan, Silvia gets pretty traumatized. But secretly she’d glad that she’s helping the Youthful Naturalist, proud of both of them. Her search for precolonial Atlantis failed. But here’s another basket to put some eggs in. If they crack the secret to life and death, well, no one else will have to die like Silvia’s other dad, they can have all the time in the world to create their own utopia.

And the other basket of eggs is the Marvellous. She’s been so busy she’s scarcely had time to think of it [I’ve been on the lodging grind for 3+ months ;_;]. But can’t she just win and make the Masters let go of everything, set everyone free, end imperialism, or whatever? That’s how it works, right?

Oh, by the way, no one knows she’s been doing this shit. Not her father-ish figures, not her flatmate, not her partner, not her best friend, not her newspaper employees. Just her crew, and they are pretty pissed at her right now, so she’s been avoiding them.

Around this time, Silvia gets a letter from Shaw (one such father-ish figure) explaining about Nemesis and saying he might not make it back from his final revenge quest.

ALSO around this time (or maybe right after) Silvia gets what really sounds like a last will and testament from Jones (other father-ish figure).

And ALSO also around this time, Brett (Silvia’s best friend) is recovering from learning of the death of his partner.

Then Silvia forgets to be careful, and Caoimhe (her partner) sees her burns and asks what’s going on. She doesn’t buy Silvia’s story about a cooking accident she forgot to tell Caoimhe about (Silvia never cooks), and she really doesn’t appreciate that Silvia tried to lie. Caoimhe gives Silvia the chance to come clean.

So it all comes out. The Marvellous. The scientific voyages. The experimental surgeries. The multiple supernatural enemies. Caoimhe is appalled that Silvia would be taking all these risks without saying a single word—she thought the most dangerous shit Silvia was involved with was printing ill-advised articles about powerful people. Caoimhe’s extraordinarily patient and supportive, but Silvia didn’t even tell her!

The breach of trust frays at their relationship and drags Silvia further into guilt and despair, especially because Silvia’s support network is spread rather thin at the moment!

So… here we are. Silvia’s standing in the crumbling ruins of her relationships and ideals. She needs to help this 20-year-old cheat death, and then she needs to beat a bat at cards, and she’s so, so sad about everything.

This is it folks! We've hit rock bottom! Even I'm not sure how she's getting out of this one :) :) If you made it this far, thanks for reading <3

[The Six-Finger'd Scrimshander - @T6FS; Lord Oswald J. Emerson - @lord-emerson; August Shaw - @zeebreezin; Robin Jones - @viric-dreams; Brett Heroux - @thedandy-detective; Caoimhe Coledoc - @the-insouciant-scientist]

[wil4x]

The backstory for my Penguin

When my Oswald was born, the Cobblepot family had already lost all of its fortune and social standing a few generations ago, so he grew up poor in The east side with his single mother and their bird pet shop. His father left Esther Cobblepot when she became pregnant.

As a kid, he was bullied for his appearance and acquired the Penguin nickname.

Since his childhood, Oswald was a tremendous fan of musical theater (like his mother) and even dreamed of becoming an actor once, but was too insecure about his looks to ever audition.

In his late teens, he also took to boxing, to defend himself and genuine love of the sport. Sadly, an injury in one of his legs made it impossible for him to go pro and gave him a noticeable limp.

During all this time, he always looked up to the gangsters who took care of the people in his neighborhood, gentlemen of crime that were loved, admired, and feared by everyone...

Oswald decided he wanted to become like those men he looked up to so much, and when he was 23, he started to do small jobs for them and worked his way up the latter.

When he was 35, he became one Falcone's driver, but still, he was not respected. People didn't take him seriously, and he knew that behind his back, they still mocked him and called him The Penguin...

When the Batman appeared, Penguin saw an opportunity, and he started to give anonymous tips about Falcones operations to the vigilante to weaken the organization and give him an opportunity.

The plan worked. Just when Batman thought that the mafia was done for, Penguin killed Falcone and all his associates and became effectively The Kingpin of Gotham.

But Oswald was no fool. He saw the change of the ties and the future coming, the age of old school gangsters was done, this was the age of the Supervillain, the people wanted a show, and The Penguin loves nothing more than giving the people what they want...

Art by @Azoinab

[galactic-rhea]

They're strangers, they're brothers, their relationship is one of years-worth contempt from one side, confusion and guilt from the other. One thinks he knows the other better than anyone, thinks they know the other side of the coin, the side that isn't worth the praise. One feels betrayed, the other isn't even aware of the betrayal, isn't even aware of how deep the cut lies, isn't even aware of the other.

One was discarded, the other is a replacement. One needs to make the best out of his imprisonement because he can't leave, the other fights for the way back home.

One blames the other for the death of his friends and family, for everyone he cared for. For the other it was a little mistake he made, an innocent accident he didn't know had repercussions.

One feels under the shadow of the other, an impossibly big shadow. The other is charismatic and always does everything right, he's correct, he's nice, he's everyone's favourite person.

One was dethroned, the other wasn't even aware of the crown.

Only one of them really 'knew' their father figure before favouring one over the other. The other only lives through the ghost of an idea of what that father figure was.

One is older, other is younger, one is cynism, the other is idealism and optimism.

One knows what's to be left with nothing and be forgotten. The other knows fame and commodity.

One tries to make amends and do better, the other doesn't want help, for he wants to be the hero this time.

They both work together anyways, not because they're brothers, since family can be a choice and neither of them choose the other. But because it is what's right and it is what needs to be done to help others.

And that's the choice, so in a way, they did chose the other.

I am of course talking about Oswald and Mickey Mouse. I love Epic Mickey so much.

[nightmare-foundation]

Hero/villain batfamily swap AU

Okay so I really wanna infodump about my au that I've recently made, which puts the batfamily in the Gotham Rogues' places. I haven't thought through all of them yet, and I haven't accounted for all the batfamily (i.e. Kate Kane, Luke Fox, etc), but this is what I have

The Rogues

Bruce- The Penguin

Dick- Two-Face

Tim- The Joker

Stephanie- Black Mask

Damian- the Demons Head/Ra's Al Ghul

Barbara- The Riddler

Duke- Mr. Freeze

Cass- Lady Shiva?

The Heroes/good guys

Jason- Batman

Nightwing/Robin I- Jacob 'Jake' Grayson

Red Hood/Robin II- Thomas Grayson

Raven/Robin III- Jonathan Crane

Spoiler/Robin IV- [name] Brown (she hasn't been named yet, but she's Stephanie's daughter!)

Robin V- William Todd

Black Bat- Rose Wilson

The Signal- TBD (feel free to suggest ideas)

Seer- James Gordon Jr.

Harvey Dent

Edward Nygma

Jack Napier

Oswald Cobblepot

Waylon Jones

Jervis Tetch

Basil Karlo

Admittedly, the ones I've thought through the most are Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian. Some characters i haven't thought much about at all or I have an idea of what I want them to be (like Harvey having a role similar to Jim Gordon, or maybe Edward works with Lucius?).

BUT- this is an au where an outside force fucked with the timeline (haven't decided who/what or how) and, after regaining their past timeline memories, the batfamily (now Rogues... except for Jason lol) have to work together to figure out how to fix the timeline. The problem being their current states make that task much harder than it'd usually be, especially with their current history with each other, even despite their memories returning. So there's a whole slew of issues, not just internal, but with each other and dealing with heroes. And they have... very complicated histories with each other.

I'll explain a few of them under the cut :)

Dick Grayson aka Two-Face

What differs in this AU is that Dick is, of course, never taken in by Bruce and is instead passed around from abusive foster home to abusive foster home in Gotham. Thanks to a mix of the circus having been not a safe place and the abuse he endures in foster care, Dick develops DID, BPD and OCD from the trauma. He grows up with a close friend in Jason Todd, and while they separate for a while (Jason going to train to become Batman, Dick going into law school), they come back together as adults.

Dick becomes a lawyer because Tony Zucco had used legal loopholes to get out of facing the consequences of murdering the Flying Graysons, and Dick fully intended on trying to fix the legal system in some way and to try to prevent something like that from happening to others. At some point, Dick ends up having 2 sons, Jake and Thomas, who are 8 and 3 respectively when Dick eventually becomes Two-Face.

Since he's very close to Jason, he's actually aware that Jason is Batman. When Dick gets more unsatisfied with the justice system, he joins Jason in crime fighting as the vigilante Robin. Unbeknownst to both of them, Two-Face (not yet called that, but i haven't thought of a name yet lol) is not only unsatisfied with the justice system, but also how Jason and Dick fight crime. (Two-Face believes in the anti-hero kind of lethal justice. No, he's not 'evil')

One day, I imagine something happens and Dick, in his civilian form, tries to defend someone from someone else, but the fight results in the attacker slamming a glass container full of acid into Dicks face. This is obviously deeply traumatizing, and not only that, it solidifies Two-Faces belief that vigilantes should adopt a more lethal form of justice.

This is, obviously, how they become Two-Face :) they're deemed too mentally unstable to care for their two sons, so Jason is the person who takes them in and cares for them.

Jason Todd aka Batman

Honestly, I haven't considered exactly how he gets the idea of becoming Batman, but I'm considering that the catalyst is similar; he witnesses his father's murder. Essentially Willis got on the bad side of some mob boss and gets killed in front of Jason and Catherine. Eventually, after that, Catherine succumbs to a drug overdose.

Jason grows up close to Dick, with them supporting each other throughout their childhoods and helping each other escape foster care. Eventually Jason comes under the care of Oswald Cobblepot (who is the surprisingly kind but tough CEO of Cobblepot Industries) after attempting to steal the CEOs tires. Through him, he gets into training, and he supports Dicks lawyer endeavors financially.

After he comes back from all of his training, he refamiliarizes himself with Gotham and then becomes Batman. There's a lot of stuff he's way more lax about than Bruce is, like killing or temporarily working with criminals if it yields better results, but he still has his limits.

Jason also has his own Robins, but his relationship with them is far more healthy.

Tim Drake aka The Joker

Tim wasn't actually all that unique prior to becoming the Joker. He grew up in and out of boarding school with somewhat absent parents, in a middle class then upper class household. Tim became a photographer and journalist as an adult.

How he became the Joker is simple: he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Because of who he was, he was framed, and dropped into a vat of acid.

What came out just... isn't Tim Drake anymore.

Misc.

This is essentially what I have for the others that I haven't fully figured out yet:

-Duke becomes Mr. Freeze not long after his parents are hit by a lethal form of Joker Venom. He keeps them frozen so that they stay alive while he tries to search for a cure.

-Barbara becomes the Riddler not long after Jim Gordon dies. There's a bunch of stuff that causes her to go villain mode, but her father dying is the catalyst, or the straw that broke the camels back so to speak.

-Damian is not centuries old like Ra's is, but he is on the older side (50s? Maybe older?). Really, a lot of characters are aged up lol. He is still related to Bruce and Talia. He has kids too! William (<- placeholder name, I'm having trouble naming him, I might give him a name that reflects his heritage. He's gone through several iterations already LOL) Todd is his grandson.

-Edward Nygma works under Lucius Fox and helps make things for Jason! He also totally makes escape rooms on the side. Cringefail malewife vibes, as he should always have

-Harvey Dent has a role similar to commissioner Gordon, though I'm debating if he's actually a police commissioner or a Private Investigator.

-James Gordon Jr. Is Seer, and i imagine part of the reason he became a vigilante was to prove people's assumptions of him wrong. He's physically disabled (not sure how yet, but he uses forearm crutches) and is diagnosed with ASPD. He works as a hero both in the streets and behind a screen. I'm not sure yet what kind of day job he has tbh.

[ladylaviniya]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐧 — 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 || 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐈𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭. 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤!𝐎𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐛𝐛 𝐗 𝐅!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭, 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐃𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐄𝐚𝐭, 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐭-𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝟏 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐧, 𝐎𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭, 𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐩 (𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐠𝐞!!), 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐃𝐮𝐛𝐂𝐨𝐧, 𝐇𝐮𝐦��𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐆𝐮𝐧 𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐂𝐨𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐃𝐮𝐛𝐂𝐨𝐧 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐣𝐨𝐛.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟔𝐤+

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭. 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭, 𝐜𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭. 𝐈 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐜𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦. 𝐈'𝐦 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐈'𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝. 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭. 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝. 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫..*𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠*

𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: “𝐒.𝐋.𝐔.𝐓” 𝐛𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐚 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐲 @dollywons

The thick fabric of the bag that enveloped your head was rough and uncomfortable, the threads scratched against your skin. Despite the bag, you were lucky enough to have a glimpse of your feet below.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as someone seized both of your wrists and roughly forced them behind your back unexpectedly. Then came the nasty bite of plastic digging into your skin with the hiss of a ziptie being looped over your wrists, binding them together.

Your eyes burned with tears, and you shivered in terror as your father’s sobbing rippled around you. The men around you were laughing cruelly, and their mocking chuckles supplied an unsettling contrast to your father’s suffering. You felt a knot in your throat as you tried to swallow the lump of fear that had developed there, and tears ran down your cheeks as you tried to contain an overwhelming wave of emotion. You could barely breathe.

A yelp left your lips when a hand wrapped around your bicep unexpectedly, seized it firmly, and yanked you forcibly from the apartment. You struggled to stay upright as you were led down the hallway, your feet stumbling as you were jerked forward. You sensed the familiar route to the backdoor of the building and knew where you were headed.

Your feet scuttled across the pavement and bitumen road. You heard the unlocking sliding of a heavy door, a truck? No, van. Your shins pressed into the bumper as you were pushed forward before someone grabbed the back of your knee, and carefully lifted your leg up.

“Careful dollface,” Oswald murmured, “there’s a step.”

Your foot moved forward you felt the floor of the van and felt his callous hands on your waist, lifting you up forward into the ominous vehicle.

“Atta girl,” he praised....would you believe your insides fluttered a little? How fucked up were you? How’s it feels to know despite all the terror you were experiencing you still had warmth for the bastard who was taking you away from your home.

You felt the van shake as he and the other men climb in behind you. You wobbled, unable to stable yourself, his callous hands cups your shoulder, guiding you down to a hard plank seat, you were certain you were sitting beside him.

The van slammed shut and when the engine kicked in, you were jerked into Oswald’s side. He grunted. You didn’t know where you were headed but now the Van was moving.

You felt your mouth grow dry. There were a few chuckles, few whispering snickers from the others calling your father an idiot.

You wanted to go home. It was unkind what they were doing to you. It wasn’t right. The zipties hurt, your fingertips touched the wooden bench you shared.

“M-mister Cobb?” you whimpered, “Where are you taking me?”

You could hear the long sigh of the mob boss, he sucked his teeth before answering you dismissively, “Do you think you’d be wearing a bag on your head right now if I wanted you to know?”

You silently chided yourself for speaking up, your fear making you feel foolish. A soft whine escaped your lips, and you whispered, “I’m scared.”

“I know, sweetheart,” His response was oddly warm and condescending, a patronizing tone creeping into his voice as he responded, “You just do as you’re told and nothin’ bad will happen.”

“Promise?” a tear rolled down your cheek, you were certain you were sounding chocked up. There was another best of silence. His eyes were practically burning through the black bed on your head, you were certain.

Oswald’s hand slowly moved to rest on your thigh, his fingers gently massaging the flesh there. He cleared his throat before responding, his tone firm yet somewhat gentle.

“Yeah, I promise,” he repeated.

And what did you do? You trusted him.

Of course, yes, that’s right, in the midst of that intense silence, you found yourself clinging tightly to that tiniest thread of trust, desperate for the lifeline he offered.

The van drove over a bump. His hand was a warm comfort.

The passage of time felt like an eternity, every second hanging heavily in the air. And then, with a final guttural sound, the van’s engine shuddered to a halt. Every muscle in your body tensed taut, your senses reeling as you braced yourself for the uncertainty of what awaited you next.

The sound of the sliding door roared open, the metal creaking as it moved. You could feel Oswald's strong grip guiding you to stand. He then cleared his throat, a slightly harsh sound in the stillness of the moment.

"There's a big step down," he said, his voice firm but patient, "Take it slow."

And you did. Your foot reached out into the open air unsure how far down the ground was. The scariest part was bending down, wobbling and almost losing your balance. It would’ve been easier if they’d just taken the bag off your head.

His strong hands steadied you down from the edge of the Van. You had no idea how long you’d rode along but your legs felt truly like jelly.

The silence was broken by the sound of a huge bang coming from the side of the van, possibly from a hand. It was quickly followed by Oswald’s rough voice.

The harsh order contrasted sharply with his earlier composure. “Thanks, boys; go get your feed from Iggy,” he laughed heartily.

In a quick and surprising motion, you felt his powerful hand firmly grasp your arm and draw you forward and to his side. Moving forward even with your stumbling feet you tried to figure out where you were.

As you were tugged forward, the creaky sound of a door opening echoed through the air, a sense of coldness creeping in around you. The shift in the flooring was undeniable as you felt the weighty concrete beneath your feet give way to the smooth, echoing surface of marble tile, and then to the plush softness of carpet. It was clear to you that you’d perhaps entered the confines of a building.

“Mister Cob-”

“Just a minute sweetheart,” he cut you off.

Your lips primed together tightly. Why couldn’t he just take the bag off your head at least?

Oswald paused for a brief moment, his firm hand resting on the small of your back as he indicated you should remain stationary. Then, a delicate chiming sound filled the air, and his hand gently guided you forward. The floor beneath your feet felt as if it was moving, and the air was filled with a soft, soothing classical melody. The sensation was unmistakable—you were stepping into the confined space of an elevator.

How pathetic did you look? You wondered how frightened and how obvious you appeared, you wish you could’ve shown a brave face but what was the point when you had a bag over your head, scratching over your cheeks.

You could smell sandalwood as you were directed to a spot and made to sit down on a low but comfortable furniture...a couch.

The elevator ride eventually came to an end, the soft chime announcing the arrival at the desired floor. Your steps carried you from the springy floor of the elevator to the solid, steady surface of whatever room you had been ushered into.

The fragrance of sandalwood filled your nostrils, the scent rich and earthy.

As you were led to a specific place, Oswald gave you a curt, “Here, sit down.” The furniture beneath your body was low and comfy, and the soft feel of the material under your thighs told you it was a couch.

You were acutely aware as Oswald's footsteps approached, the sound of his shoes tapping against the flooring filling the air. The closer he drew, the stronger the scent of his aftershave and cologne became, the warm, masculine aroma wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. In those moments, the small luxuries—like the smell of him—served as a lifeline, helping to hold your emotions together and keep you from completely shattering.

The instant the sack was lifted off your head, the onslaught of harsh, bright light assaulted your eyes, causing you to blink rapidly as you attempted to refocus. Blinking away the initial pain, your surroundings slowly took shape and solidified. You realized now that you were in an expansive room filled with personal belongings. This was no club, but rather a home—a luxurious penthouse, to be specific.

The spaciousness of the penthouse was truly colossal. The room you were in felt like it was the size of the entire apartment building you lived in! The sheer scale of the place left you feeling tiny and insignificant, the term “puny” couldn’t adequately describe how drastically different you felt in his home.

Once your gaze wandered beyond the sheer size of the penthouse, you couldn’t help but notice the distinct essence of the 1920s that infused the space like a time capsule. The art deco and traditional design elements were showcased in every corner, exuding a sense of grandeur and decadence. The walls were adorned with wallpaper featuring geometric shapes in glittering gold, bold black, and vibrant scarlet hues, paying homage to the era’s iconic aesthetics. It was as if you had stepped back in time to the roaring twenties.

The flooring beneath your feet was crafted from the finest polished marble, its cool, smooth surface gleaming beneath the ambient light. Extravagant crystal chandeliers and elegant brass light fixtures hung suspended from the high, extravagant ceiling, casting a warm and soothing glow throughout the room. Oswald’s furniture—composed of rich, dark woods—featured sharp, clean lines and minimalist detailing, the result being a seamless blend of refinement and modern aesthetics. Occasionally, luxurious fur throws and plush rugs added an opulent touch to the surroundings, completing the lavish setting.

The soft red rug on the floor resembled the type of carpet from a hundred years ago, and every piece of furniture seemed like a priceless antique. The mansion as a whole had the aura of an historical monument, as if it was a portal into the past.

Oswald was seated in front of you, perching on the edge of his coffee table. His elbows rested on his thighs, and his dark eyes fixated on you with an intense and unblinking stare. The gaze was almost scrutinizing, his beady eyes moving and darting around you with a calculating intent. The occasional flicker of his tongue licking over the jagged scar on his upper lip, a remnant of some past injury.

It was impossible to know what he was thinking.

“Mister Cobb?” you breathed, “Wha—"

“Your phone,” he asked, “Where is it? Your pocket?”

You blinked, you tried to reach for it only to remember your hands were still bound by plastic zip ties.

“Yes sir,” You nodded.

He reached forward, his hand cupped around your outer thigh, you kept your legs closed, in a skirt even like the one you wore, he might’ve seen anything.

He fished out the little black brick that you called a phone. A handy down of a handy down with a cracked screen in the top corner.

“Passcode?” he murmured.

You swallowed thickly and told him. You then added weakly, “It’s my birthdate.”

Of course it was.

“That would ugh, make you eighteen?” he mused dryly.

“Nine—” you swallowed as you corrected him, “Nineteen. I was older than most of my graduation class.”

His thumb rolled across the screen.

He looked up, a bit amused, thick dark eyebrow arched. “Right, nineteen.”

Silence hung heavily in the air as he scrolled through the contents of your phone. It hadn’t really occurred to you that this would be a part of the deal you’d agreed to, but your nerves kept you from voicing any protest. All you could do was hope that he wouldn’t stumble across anything too inappropriate. You knew about the danger of nudes so that you didn’t worry about— but your search history on the other hand was a whole other kettle of fish. Each passing moment felt like an eternity as you waited anxiously, unsure of what he might discover in your personal device.

“Who is Richard?” he finally asked, his eyes squinting back at you.

Richard? You swallowed hard as you realized who he was referring to—Dick Grayson, circus boy.

“Dicky’s just a um friend from school,” you managed to say, your mouth feeling dry as sandpaper.

Oswald scrolled through your phone's contents, his thumb gliding effortlessly across the screen. When he came across a message from Richard, a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Hm nah dollface...He wants to fuck you," he sounded concerned?

In response to Oswald's statement, you couldn't help the little laugh that escaped your lips—mostly born of surprise at the fact he even considered such a notion.

"N-no, he’s just a friend."

Richard wasn’t like other boys, he was kind and sweet, he was nice to talk to. But Oswald knew better.

"Don't you think for a second that a kid like him values your friendship more than he values the cunt between your legs," Oswald's response was harsh and cold, his dark eyes locking onto yours, "He's definitely thought about a whole manner of ways he’d like to ugh... have his way with you, that's for sure, make no mistake ‘bout it."

The lump in your throat nearly choked you as you nodded, watching intently as Oswald continued to scroll through your phone. He was going through the messages where Dicky had talked about Circus camp and his parents encouraging him to perform with them.

Oswalds tone was tight and almost possessive as he asked, “You text him quite a lot sweetheart, you ain’t lying to me now? You haven’t been bumping uglies with this kid?”

A shiver ran down your spine as you wondered if his taut voice was born of jealousy.

“He’s just a lonely boy,” you said, “I still haven’t...done that...stuff.” He looked up at that, one dark eyebrow quirked. A filthy little virgin who got off on dark erotica books, how cliché...how wonderful for Oswald Cobb.

“Hmm,” he finally acknowledged and stood, “He’s lonely with four hundred Instagram friends?” He placed your phone into his pocket, “That circus monkey ain’t lonely sweetheart, he just wants to see your tits to jerk off too.”

He moved around you, and for the second time, you caught a whiff of him. Your entire body trembled involuntarily as he slowly, thoroughly examined you. It was an experience unlike any you’d had before. He halted behind you, a long pause filling the air. You felt his presence just inches behind you, his nose hovering above your head as his warm breath fanned your hair while he drank in your scent.

You heard the clicking and felt his fingers loop into your zipties before cutting them away with a box cutter blade. You pulled your wrists to your chest and rubbed them, hissing as blood rushed back into the strangled flesh.

You breathed out a soft, “Thankyou,” your chest rose and fell.

His thumb swiped over your cheek, and he winked before pocketing the box cutter right beside your phone. Maybe if you could get to your phone and call the police, you would be saved. He walked over to a small bar cabinet and began making himself a drink.

You hated the silence, you needed to know what was about to happen to you. You didn’t dare stand up from the couch. Was he going to make your work in his club? Maybe he needs a new housekeeper, that’s why you were here in this penthouse.

“Mister Cobb?” you shivered, “What will you do to me?”

The Penguin chuckled and turned back around with not one but two glasses in hand. There was a dark brown in each. Whiskey? Bourbon? Port? Who card, it’s not like you would’ve known the difference, a sweet thing like you.

“Lotta things sweetheart,” he purred, returning to the couch, “A lot of things, and you’ll be doing some things back.”

You felt warm in the face, your chest tight. Surely he didn’t mean that? Not sex? No. Mister Cobb wasn’t that type of man...was he? You didn’t think he’d kidnap someone either but here you were.

He handed you a cup, you carefully cradled it. You weren’t allowed to drink. He probably just wanted you to hold it safe for him. But why hand it to you when there was a whole coffee table beside your legs?

Your fingers clenched the cup, “I...I haven’t um...Mister Cobb, I haven’t had a boyfriend.”

The Penguin smirked and shook his head, he took a swig of his drink and exhaled.

“I ain’t gonna be no boyfriend hun,” he chuckled, “You’re just going to do as your told, which means if I say ‘suck my cock’, you do it, I tell you to spread your legs, you do it, I tell you to cook or clean, you do it, hell if I tell you to kiss my feet, you do it. Capiche?”

His gun holster was peaking out from his coat. You nodded nervously. You were scared again. And now with his dark eyes on you, he could see your fear too. You swore his expression softened.

“Drink, that glass is for you,” he pushed the bottom of the cup up a little more, your arms lifting with it.

Your knees tightened together when he hand lowered down to sit on top of your lap, squeezing your thigh outside your skirt.

Despite him just telling you to obey, you hesitated, your moral values too constricting, “I’ve never— I’m not allowed to Mister Cobb, I’m not twenty one— I’m nineteen.” You reminded.

The mob boss’ eyebrows lifted, he glanced to the tall windows, to the glass and back to your face, “Well ugh, I ain’t gonna tell on you... Have a sip, be a good girl for me and do as you’ve been told.”

You felt embarrassed— a virgin who had never had a drink, how could Oswald ever see you as anything but just as some stupid dolt. He probably still thought of you as a kid... You couldn’t breathe.

You wanted him to be happy with you, you wanted him to like you and most importantly not cause any harm to you. You wanted to impress him. So you lifted the cup to your mouth.

The glass was cold on your lips, the smell of the alcohol was enough to want to make you gag. It touched your peaking tongue and tasted revolting like some burning poison. Your nose wrinkled, your lip curled back in disgust.

You pulled back and shook your head. You couldn’t drink anymore. You were scared you’d vomit or gag loudly.

The penguin gave a hearty laugh, “Not your speed? Ah well, it’s an acquired taste. Good girls like you don’t drink stuff like this anyhow, should’ve started you on something like a long island ice tea or a Tia Maria.” He set your glass aside, “Just thought the whiskey would warm you up,” he purred and slid his fingers down your thigh to touch your trembling knee.

He sighed and looked you up and down again. He bit the corner of his lip and leaned right back against the back of the couch, sinking into the cushioned seat.

“God I hope you’re worth eighty thousand dollars, your pops current state of breathin’ is ah dependin’ on it but I’d be more disappointed sweetheart, afterall, it’s a lot of money. Tell me...do you think you’re worth that much?” he asked, watching the nervousness in you spike.

How could you answer a question like that!?

Deep down you wanted to be considered priceless, but in the grand scheme of things you looked down at yourself and knew you were worth nothing in the eyes of the big power dogs like the penguin Oswald Cobb.

You felt your heart drop into the pit of your stomach as you watched his hands fiddle with the buckle on his belt, your mind racing with a mix of fear and excitement.

“How much do you think a blowjob from you would cost?” His question hung heavy in the air, and you could do nothing but look up at him, speechless.

 He wanted a taste of what he’d just bought- you, he wanted to see what you were capable of, your worth to him to allow your own father to live. Your heart began to pound violently in your chest, every fibre of your being quaking with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation.

“I- Mister Cobb...I—” you cleared your throat and lifted your hand up to your lips, you looked away from his lap.

The thought of failing to live up to his expectations was making you nauseous. Your eyes darted around, refusing to meet his gaze, settling instead on the sight of your own reflection, distorted and warped, on the golden tooth. “You alright babydoll?” his question broke through your fearful trance.

“Y-yeah,” you answered, swallowing your anxiety and doing your best to present a facade of obedience, “I— it’s just, um—”

“Jesus, you really are a virgin, aren’t you?” he laughed, removing his belt from his trousers loops entirely. It was a mean laugh. You frowned, your eyes cast to the floor. You felt so humiliated. It wasn’t right, you worked so hard to stay away from boys and girls who had shown you interest, people at church praised you for it even, you were often called “Mature for your age.” And you wore it like a badge of honour. You didn’t party or drink or do drugs. You were the real deal. A good girl.

You just did a lot of masturbating in private.

“What? Those girly porno books teach you nothin’ eh?” he started shaking his head, chuckling and wiped his hair back, “Man I didn’t think I’d be starting from scratch, ain’t no more good than a one dollar cockslut.”

Your eyes teared up, “I’m not a— I’m...I’m not a—” you stuttered.

He smirked, “Maybe not now dollface but we’ll see.”

You stood up from the couch, towering above him and his spread legs. You were frustrated. Angry tears splitting from the slit of your eyes.

“I’m worth more than a dollar!” you snapped unexpectedly, your hand cupped your mouth. You didn’t meant to sound so angry. You wanted to apologise until you remembered exactly why you were here and what he wanted to do with you.

His brows rose, his smirk not disappearing but he definitely picked up on the attitude in your tone, “That so? Well ugh, go on then, how much are you worth?”

“A lot Mister Cobb,” you lightly huffed and crossed your arms, before boldly stating believing yourself to be smart, “More than you can afford.”

Oh, how that made him pause. His eyes narrowed. You felt sweat roll down the back of your neck. He looked intrigued, not impressed but not angry.

He pursed his lips and glanced down your legs, back up to your face, “Pretty ambitious there kiddo. How about this? If you suck my cock and make me cum in,” he looked at his rolex, “Ten minutes, I’ll call everything off. Your pops debt, everything. I’ll drop you home once my boys bring back my car.”

You blinked, the wetness had gone away, your arms fell to your side, “What? Wait? I can go home today?” your breath caught in your chest, “You mean it?”

The penguins chest rumbled as he chuckled, he touched his chest and drew an invisible cross, “Cross my heart and hope to die, Sweetheart.”

It sounded too good to be true, but who were you to turn down such an offer? Your nostrils flared. The penguin had never broken a promise to you. You didn’t believe he’d lie about this. You bit your bottom lip. Your fathers livelihood was at stake.

It was a small memory, you could hear Oswald's voice from when he told you in the car after you shared your dream— 'You just gotta put your mind to it, know what you want and know what you’re willing to do and sacrifice to get there.'

“Atta girl,” he sighed, his tone gentle and almost kind. “Just try your best, eh?” You felt a strange familiarity in that, realizing how many times you’d heard those exact words growing up—when you were scared waiting for your dad finish work at the lounge, or nervous about an upcoming test, or just running late to the school bus, he had always been around to say that to you... A surge of warmth spread through you now, as his hand moved to the back of your head. His hands had never touched your hair except to pat your head... never like this.

You wanted to leave, you wanted to help your father.

“Ten minutes,” you muttered, “Just ten minutes,” you slowly lowered down onto the couch beside him onto your knees, cushioned on the seats. You didn’t see the harm in saving your knees from his rough carpet rug. Your hands experimentally laid into his thighs.

He quickly guided your head downward, bringing your face in line with his rising hips and freeing his cock from the confines of his trousers. There was no time for inspection, no time to study or admire it. Your mouth felt like a desert as the tip of his dick pressed against your lips, and you could do nothing but open your mouth. You didn’t even have time to process whether he was cut or not.

He sucked in a breath above you and removed his palm away from your head and his cock.

“Alright, sweetheart. Get to work, now. Make Daddy happy.”

You should have bitten him. Should have bit his cock right off. It was not only disgusting that he coined the term daddy but that you typically liked reading those daddy kink mafia stories. Your insides jumped. You whined around his thick pole covered in skin.

The flesh against your tongue was hard and hot. You could feel everytime he took in a shuddering breath. His hand travelled down came to rest on your waist. His fingers slowly pushed below the edge of your blouse, making contact with your bare cold skin and caressing the sensitive flesh of your hips. His touch was surprisingly gentle and incredibly warm, the feel of his skin against yours sent a tingling wave through your veins down between your legs.

You ran your lips along the length of his rigid cock, lowering yourself further until your tongue met the base where his soft curls carpeted treat. You ran your tongue upwards, attempting to wet the flesh and bring some much-needed lubrication. This was not an easy task with a dry mouth.

Despite having some hair, he was remarkably well-groomed and had a powerful cologne scent. He was a man with significant endowment, and based on what you could see and feel, you suspected that he was uncircumcised. Although you couldn’t help but feel that he was somewhat above the norm, his length was at least average. However, he was thick, and you were positive that when the time came, he would tear your insides apart.

You ran your tongue along his skin again and again, feeling the veins pulse and throb under your touch. A salty taste filled your mouth as you noticed your own saliva mixing with his sweat. Suddenly, he slipped his hand under your skirt, his fingers trailing along the edge of your panties, pausing there for a few seconds before moving to your hip.

Other than understanding that males enjoyed the sensation of a woman’s mouth on their dicks, what you’d seen in porn, you had no idea what you were doing. It couldn’t be that difficult! Simple, right? They always cummed in porn and your guy friends like Dicky had always talked about how guys typically cum in minutes, even seconds!

You moved the palm of your hand upward and downward over the pulsing flesh while licking the tip of his cock in a circular motion. After a few moments, you placed him back inside your mouth and endured on. The tip was the first thing you focussed on. Gently sucking, you placed it upon your tongue and then pulled the tip of it with your soft lips until it popped out from your mouth all together.

He was letting out a few quiet sighs here and there, but not much else. A few minutes later, you released his cock pausing to catch your breath and loosen your jaw. His head was a dark pink almost a purpling colour. Your eyes glanced up at him worryingly.

Why hadn’t he cum yet!?

Your heart race began to pick up, how long had it been?

The tiniest tick in his lips made a smirk, he leaned down and cupped your cheek. You continued to stroke him gently as he tenderly stated, “That’s cute and all what you’re doing baby but ugh, when you lack experience you’re gonna hurt your jaw doing that so you should show a bit of passion, enthusiasm.”

“I’m sorry,” you automatically said without thinking. You weren’t sorry. You just felt like it was the only thing you could say to him. You only prayed he wasn’t reconsidering and that the ten minutes were not yet up.

He pat the couch seat where you were just sitting before you’d gotten onto your knees, you obediently rose up and took your place beside him. Was that it? Was it over? Could you go home? He didn’t cum, you werent sure if he hadn’t, weren’t you meant to feel it?

He gave a small smile and placed his hand back on your head.

“You got five minutes; keep going.” He guided your mouth back to his aching cock. A strange relief claimed you, you still had a chance. You began to move with a bit more purpose. Your tongue sucking him in whole your cheeks worked hard.

He praised, placing a hand on the back of your head, “That’s it, good girl, that’s what I expect from my girls.”

The soft patting of his heavy hand was surprisingly soothing, while you tried to focus on moving your head up and down quickly. He applied a little extra pressure, and you took in more of his cock in response.

He hummed, “Take it all, c’mon.”

You shifted further downwards, struggling to fully take him in your mouth. You gagged slightly as he pressed deeper into your throat. He praised, “There it is. Good girl.”

You felt a warm little thrill at his words. The feeling of him pressed against the back of your throat was intense, and for a moment, you felt like you were struggling to breathe. But then he pulled back a bit, giving you a chance to breathe.

You drew away immediately and inhaled deeply. You returned your puffy lips to his puffy cock tip. You tried to take as much of home as you could. Again, you withdrew. You whined. Pornstars made deep throating look so easy, it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t like Oswald Cobb had a mammoth dick but he still made you gag when he was barely half way passed your lips.

You took a moment to collect yourself but made sure to keep your fist moving up and down around the length of him.

After a moment, he reached for his cock and put it back onto your lips, running across them like a man made lipgloss. You whined, flicking your tongue out and licking at his tip like some divine dessert.

“Fuck me,” he groaned. “You must really want Daddy’s cum.”

You pushed your thighs closer together. All of a sudden, your pussy pulsed between your legs. A surge of blood rushed through your body. Daddy. Minutes ago you wanted to bite his dick off and now? It was really filthy. So taboo and foul. It was naughty. And it turned you on.

He gently dragged your skirt up over your back and let his fingers sit over the softness of your crotch. You jerked forward gasping in surprise. The tips of his fingers began to rub into your cloth covered clit and lips. Could he feel it...was there a chance your panties were growing damp. You had totally forgotten about the time limit, the deal.

He seized your jaw and raised your head.

He grunted, “Look at me.”

With his cock still between your lips, he jerked himself vigorously before unleashing an animalistic moan. The gushing of his liquid salt made you balk and gag. You pulled away only for his hand to grab your face and press his palm to your mouth.

“Swallow. Swallow daddy’s cum sweetheart c’mon now.” He breathed hotly into your ear and cheek. A tear left your eye, you obeyed and felt horrifyingly disgusted in yourself, with how aroused you were getting, witch how you swallowed his cum down.

“Yeah,” he cackled, “Atta girl, my good girl drinking her daddy’s spunk like the secret cockslut she is.”

You whimpered. No. You weren’t a slut. No. That’s what started this. You weren’t some single dollar cockslut. You weren’t worth just a dollar and you were not a cockslut. Why did he have to say that? Why was he so mean? Why did you get so turned on?

He lightly touched your swollen lips with his thumb. Playfully he added, “That’s the thanks I should have received for giving you a ride home instead of letting you wait in the sun.”

You imagined how that would’ve gone. If you’d gotten into his car and offered a blowjob in payment...that would’ve made you a whore though. Mister Cobb didn’t mess around with Whores though, right?

Your lips parted, and he continued, “That’s how a woman should always thank a man like me,” He raised an eyebrow, adding, “Right babydoll?”

A man like him. What type of man was that. A powerful man? A rich man? An old man? A criminal?

Your insides trembled.

You were at a loss for words. All you could do was nod in agreement, even though you didn't concur. Everything now hinged on pleasing him, which meant accepting his stance.

He growled kissing your cheek, "Be a good girl now and thank me."

Thank him? Thank him!? You wanted to be furious, you wanted to claw out his eyes, give him another scar on his ugly face.

Yet your voice came out as no more than a whisper, "Thank you."

He clicked his tongue, expressing disappointment. “Nah, nah,” he chastised, “Say my name and thank me for drivin’ you home earlier and allowin’ you to suck my cock.”

Your voice meek and quivering, “Thank you, Mister Cobb, for giving me a lift— for... letting me...s-suck your— your,” Embarrassment burned within you as you spoke, “Your cock.”

“Yea it’s alright,” he hummed, he lifted his watch and smiled sadistically, “It was a lovely show, but now you’ll have all the time in the world to practice. Never had a cock sucked for twenty whole minutes before. Real shit blow job for a girl who reads porn books. You’re lucky you’re pretty baby or I’d have belted your ass for not finishing me off sooner.”

Your stomach plummeted, at his mention of the belt and how and even further when you realised you had lost the bet, the deal in his favour. His hand crawled up your thigh.

“Now, cause I’m a nice guy, a good Daddy unlike your Pops,” his fingers touched the seam of your damp underwear, tracing the lining, and pulling the fabric aside, “I’m gonna make you cum.”

With wide eyes and terror in your throat you grabbed his thick hairy wrist and squeezed you legs shut, pushing him away, “W-wait!”

To Be Continued...

                             

  𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒:

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬. 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

[froot-batty]

post this bird when they least expect it

(LORE BE DOWN THERE)

Oswald Cobblepot was born to a poor family in a small Hungarian village, the eldest child of what would come to be six children. From the moment he could function by himself, he was expected to take up responsibilities around the house - taking care of his siblings, earning a little extra money when he could. Not because his parents were neglectful, but because they were trying to scrape together what little money they earned from multiple jobs. Oz had to help out somehow, because there was no one else to do it.

Oz was 12 when they left Hungary. His father had gotten desperate and had turned to working for some bad people in order to provide for his family. When continuing down that path grew too dangerous, they fled to Britain, where their life was only a tiny bit better. They were still poor, but by now Oz was able to get a couple of real jobs (through lying about his age) to help properly support the family. However, by his early teen years the symptoms of his IED had begun to develop and show, and his frequent outbursts oftentimes got him sacked or even, on a couple of occasions, jailed for short periods of time.

Though he tried his best to keep his head inside of his home, it was something he couldn't control. He would always feel awful about being cruel to his family after the fact, but he had never been the type to apologize with words, so he decided that to pay them back, he needed to provide even more for them.

This is when Oswald began to dip into criminality. He couldn't keep a proper job, but peddling drugs or breaking bones worked just as well (and even paid better, in most cases). His outbursts even helped him, giving him a reputation amongst low-level criminals that eventually grew into recognition from bigger ones.

These more powerful criminals could see that under the anger and the violence, Oswald was actually incredibly cunning when he was allowed to be. He could come up with schemes that, while risky, did prove to pay out in the majority of cases. Eventually, one of Oswald's more frequent employers and a major crime boss decided to take him in, impressed by how naturally he'd taken to the criminal life.

It was through the experience within that crime family where Oswald really honed his skills. He learned how to be intimidating and send a message without doing more than lifting a finger. He was never able to tame his reactions to the slightest provocations, but he learned how to be less impulsive. Throw his tantrums in the moment, but properly plan after he'd calmed down.

With the trust and wisdom gained from this family, Oswald grew...cocky. He felt untouchable; like he could master the game he'd only recently been taught. The money was coming in, he was respected, feared...and it made him feel on top of the world.

This was when he made a plan. A plan that would get him and his family all the money they needed to leave the country and start somewhere new, somewhere where Oswald could create his own criminal empire and shower them all in all the riches they could ever imagine.

He went behind his employer's back and started to feed information to the other crime families. Things that would not only distract his boss, and leave him and his property vulnerable, but endear him to the other families. Slowly, through a lot of verbal manipulation and betrayal, Oswald stole....a ton of money, from a lot of different people. It only made him more and more confident.

Still, despite all he'd done to get where he was, he hadn't really understood that people in this business do whatever it takes to get ahead. Someone snitched on him to his boss, and he was very quickly dragged right back to where he'd started. Oz was briefly tortured for his disloyalty (where he got his blind eye), and then dragged to a scrap yard, where he was put into an old car under a car crusher.

Luckily, the scrap yard they took him to used a very outdated, very slow machine, so Oz was able to figure out a way to escape undetected. It did, however, leave him with a permanently mangled leg, which he didn't have the means to treat at the time. Instead, he used the remaining time to put his escape plan into action. He collected the money he'd squirreled away and took his forged documents onto a boat headed to America, never saying a word to the family he'd leave behind. As long as the world thinks the person he used to be is dead, they're safe, so he's accepted he can never speak to them again.

Gotham City, the world capital of crime, was the perfect place to build his own criminal empire. He doesn't regret anything that lead to where he is now, but sometimes he does miss what he used to have, though he'll kill you before he admits it. But the way he treats the younger members of the rogues gallery - like wayward younger siblings to reluctantly corral - proves that there's a heart somewhere under all of that ice.

[questmouse]

Part 2 of Qftim: Reborn facts because why not ＼(・w・)／

Facts about: Bendy

He accidentally called Felix "Father/Dad" and was embarrassed for a while.

Anytime Bendy drinks, he gets people's names mixed up.

Bendy has the ability to hotwire a vehicle. Don't ask how he knows he just does. :]

He used to have a crush on Ortensia as a kid.

Bendy loves playing beer pong with the questers and circus crew. (And if they have Boris or Mickey, they use Soda instead) :)

Hates the taste of Cherries. (He accidentally ate a cherry with a pit inside of it when he was 6, and he since hasn't eaten a cherry)

Bendy has once eaten a 20-ounce bacon soup. The aftermath was not pretty but did not regret it in the slightest.

Facts about: Boris

Boris only eats meat. He doesn't really eat veggies, but anytime him and Bendy are at Mickey's place, he eats them since Mickey makes them with some seasoning.

He stress-chews when he's really nervous.

Boris has tunnel vision, so he has a great depth perspective.

Likes making handmade bracelets for his crew and for the circus crew.

Enjoys making food with Felix and Mugman.

Doesn't like hugs or kisses. The only expect is Bendy and Mickey. He'll happily take a hug from them.

He loves bitter food and sweet food.

Facts about: Mickey

Mickey is very protective over Bendy & Boris, despite knowing them less than a year.

Mickey has been seen smoking when he is under extreme pressure on a big day for his circus show. Slowly, Mark has been trying to wean Mickey off of the cigarettes.

He still gets teased by Sheba, and ever since him and Mark have been a thing, he gets teased even more by Sheba.

He has very sensitive hearing due to his big semi-circle ears.

Anytime Oswald is sick, Mickey is always at his side: making him soup, comforting, and making sure the bunnies are being taken care of when Oswald is out of commission.

He's very sensitive about himself, and he struggles to love himself, but he has friends and family that well support and love him.

Facts about: Oswald

He feels like he can't trust many people due to past relationships, but he's trying to work on it.

Him and Felix go on dates from time to time. He has Mickey and Mark babysit all the little bunnies.

He tries to make sure anyone who is staying with them is okay. He's in a parent mood a lot.

Oswald doesn't like physical love, but he lets Felix and the bunnies give affection.

He still keeps in contact with Fanny, and she lets him vent to her when he's stressed out.

After Walt kicked Oswald out, he got back inside and took Mickey with him to start a new life, and this was when Oswald was around 3 and Mickey was 1. They both lived with Scrooge McDuck for a while.

Facts about: Mark

He accidentally twisted his wrist once while working, and Mickey scolded him for letting himself get injured.

Mark is based on an American Shorthair cat :)

He doesn't respond to catnip surprisingly.

Mark's first language is Portuguese. He can simply switch between Portuguese and English.

According to Mickey, Mark is very affectionate with hugs :)

Mark's full name is: Marquinhos Izuri Aser, his legal name is: Mark Izuri Asher.

Facts about: Fanny

Has paid off her nursing loan thanks to Dovil.

She slays with mostly any outfit. Her favorite color to wear is Seaform Green & Deep Lilac.

Fanny has gotten multiple promotions as a nurse is earning over $650 per week. She's got the money >:)

Her name "Francine" comes from her grandmother, Fanny is only a nickname, her folks Gabe her.

She's surprisingly still sweet to Oswald after their breakup. She does talk with Mickey, and they both try and talk about their interests in life.

She felt bad for Oswald after hearing about what had happened to Ortensia, she wanted to talk to him but she felt like she would only bother him.

Fanny in (Reborn AU) hasn't met Brute, and she's happy being single. She has caught an eye for Cuphead. 👀

Sorry, this is short headcanon list peeps :(

And thanks to @mysticdreamiz for the art :)

[one-and-a-half-yikes]

Thought that hit me outta nowhere when I was half asleep this afternoon-

What the hell was Fanny doing at the gala???

We never come back to this, and although Cuphead calls it out:

We never find out if this is true or not. Will we later on? I fucking hope so cause I seriously want to know what the point was.

If we go with Cuphead's assumption here, that she was planning to "crash the party to prove a point" I am endlessly curious to know what point was proven and to who? Her parents (or more specifically her father)??? Oswald??? Did she think he was going to be there and wanted to show out (see what you're missing if you hadn't settled?) But that seems silly, she'd probably want to avoid him.

So maybe herself? Prove to herself that she made it to where she wants to be in life.

I think this one makes a little more sense to me. As I've mentioned in my Fanny meta, Fanny's life is stressful, and she's constantly dealing with so much shit on her plate. Between her controlling husband whose presence doesn't allow for the home to be a safe environment for her to escape the troubles of work life. Work life, where she's dealing with entitled and ungrateful patients on one hand, and on another rude colleagues who make her job harder for no reason; not to mention supervisors and managers above her who she has to answer to. Then, dealing with the smell and sight of bodily fluids of all kinds on top of that. Nursing is a thankless job, that part Fanny was right about. So at the end of the day you want to relax, right?

Well it's hard to do that when all your friends are busy, and your husband's idea for a night of fun is completely different from yours.

Fanny doesn't like to be in her own head. Ever. I think going to the gala was a way for her to let go of her worries and reassure herself that she'd made the right choices. Her life was great. Or actually I guess a better way to frame it would be that Fanny was PRETENDING she had made it. The fact that she was insistent on reminding Cup that she could "go alone" was interesting because I'm almost positive she didn't bring her wedding ring with her that night.

I think for her, this was a different form of escapism than what we are used to seeing. One where she envisions a life of luxury amongst the high echleons of society. Where she could pretend for one night that she wasn't going to go home to a loveless, abusive marriage. Where she won't have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn for grueling work as a nurse dealing with ink illness patients. One where she could be Cinderella for just one moment before the clock struck twelve. To pretend for a night that she was a single, young woman without a care in the world.

But we see how that turned out for her, and THIS is the part that left me puzzled by the end.

This girl is DRUNK.

And not even in the fun way where you go out with friends and come back fucking washed. She's pouty, miserable, and moody as hell when Cuphead stumbles upon her while leaving.

To get that bedazzled and feeling yourself. Pulling out all the stops to look good for a fun night out to THE biggest party of the year, only to be midway through the gala and sloshed put of your damn mind bemoaning how much you ended up hating the whole thing. I have a good guess as to why she hated the party, probably along the same reasons that Cuphead despises events like these. In Fanny's case, I think it reminds her a little too much of what she came from.

I suppose I'm more confused as to why she assumed this party would NOT be like that? What exactly did she expect from an event like this? Why go at all? She knew she would be the third wheel of what was very clearly an expensive all-out date between Puphead and Dovil. Why even waste your time on something like this? You wouldn't have any company, and as far as I know, I don't think Red went to that event either and stayed at the house with the patients? Even if she had gone, she's as much of a public figure as Oddswell, being his assistant and all, and wouldn't have had time to properly chat with Fanny through the night.

Betty isn't anyone important enough to go to an event like that. So, with few options and all her friends fairly busy, I ask, what the hell was the point? Of course, any single person could go to the gala alone, but most of those women who would go alone were probably of some importance enough that they could mingle with those in their class, right? Plus, the dance floor. Plenty of seats available to simply observe while eating and drinking. Diné, the black cat woman Bendy danced with at the gala, is a good example of this. Far as I know she didn't come with anyone and yet she was clearly having a grand time.

Anyways, I just find the whole thing strange, but this is my general speculation on why I believe she went. Even then I still think it odd, cause I feel like she could have just as easily gone to a regular club and had that experience.

NOTE: Was going to originally include Cuphead as a possibility, taking into account that the Cupanny Evil Author chapter seemed to hint that Fanny asked Cuphead to be her plus one to the gala. But that part just doesn't make sense to me, there's no way it didn't slip that Cup had a plus one, it would be silly to think she would pull a goofy stunt like that when she knew he was a public figure and all eyes would be on him through the night.