#Sinopsis Fabricated City

[marcyvampire]

Pt.3 SILLLY LITTLE BAT.

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Platonic! Batfamily x Anti-hero! Fem!reader.

sinopsis ⸺ There are only memories, fragments of a past that, like shadows, will haunt you until your last breath, whispers of what was and will never be. Gotham cries out for a guardian, a soul to face the darkness, to challenge fate in its shadowy alleys.

But tell me, who will rise to protect you, traveler of scars and broken dreams? Who will watch over your light when the world swallows your hopes?

In the eternal night, amidst the echo of fear and longing, there is only one path: to confront the monsters and become the hero this city needs, even if the price is the forgetting of oneself.

warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, Religion, murdering,Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Discrimination, Street Fights, Gaslight, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Implicit Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia, Manipulation.

Chapter guide! Pt.1 Pt2. Pt.4

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is— Here is the continuation of the other parts. There will be a few more parts but you should know that we will soon reach the end, but there are still things to clarify and so on. I don't know if you would like me to do another Batfam yandere series in the future or similar. Send me your ideas if you want :3

They are upset because I left

Where they never included me.

The car moved slowly under the gray sky of Gotham, as if the universe itself understood the weight of the pain you carried in your small figure. Commissioner Gordon, with his firm hands on the wheel, cast furtive glances at the rearview mirror, where he saw you curled up in the back seat. Wrapped in an old blanket, the same one you had hugged for days, your face was hidden among the folds, but the silent tears that fell could not be disguised. There were no words that Gordon could offer to heal the recent wound of losing your mother, but his empathy, though silent, was there, wrapping around you like the coat that couldn't quite warm you.

In your lap, a small Batman doll rested, pressed against your chest, as if that fabric toy could protect you from the world that had just destroyed your innocence. Your eyes, still swollen and red, looked out the window without seeing, watching the city that seemed so distant, so foreign.

"You will be loved and cherished," Gordon whispered, breaking the silence that had weighed like fog in the car. "Bruce Wayne... he will take care of you, I promise."

But you didn't respond immediately. The name Wayne felt strange, distant, as if he spoke of someone living in a story, not in your reality. You looked up, your eyes meeting Gordon’s for a second in the rearview mirror.

"And if they don't want me...?" you murmured, insecurity clouding your childish voice. "I don't know them, Commissioner... and they don't know me. What if they leave me in an orphanage? Mama always told me those places aren't nice."

Gordon swallowed hard, understanding the depth of your fear. "You were just a child, but you had already learned that love was not a guarantee." The world had taught you that cruel lesson too soon.

"The Waynes..." he began, searching for the right words, "are good people. You might not understand it at first, but I assure you they have suffered too. Bruce..." he paused, recalling the losses that man had faced. "He understands what it is to lose someone. He will do everything he can to make you feel safe, to help you find a home again."

But you kept looking at the doll in your hands, your fingers squeezing it tightly, as if it were the only stable thing in a world crumbling around you.

The silence grew heavy, uncomfortable, as if the words wanted to come out but didn’t know how. Again, Gordon spoke, his voice low, almost afraid to break the stillness.

"And/y/n... what was your mom like?" he asked softly, not taking his eyes off the road, as if by doing so, he could give you space to be honest, to not feel pressured.

You fell silent for a long moment, your small fingers nervously playing with the edges of the blanket. The world outside the car seemed a reflection of what you felt inside: cloudy, cold, distant.

Finally, you exhaled, as if gathering the courage to speak. Your voice came out shaky at first, filled with a mix of sadness and a hard-to-accept truth.

"My mom..." you murmured, not taking your eyes off the window. "She wasn't a good person, but... she wasn't a villain either."

Gordon nodded slowly, without interrupting you. He knew things were rarely black or white, that life had that cruel ability to mix the two.

"She... told me she grew up in an orphanage. She never had anything that was really hers." You paused, your eyes glassy as you recalled details that now seemed more painful than ever. "Well, except for me."

"Gordon felt a knot form in his throat." He knew that loss was a terrible burden to bear, but there was something more in your words, something suggesting that, amidst it all, there had also been love. An imperfect love, but real.

"She always dreamed of having a little house..." you continued, and for the first time, a faint smile appeared on your face, though it was tinged with melancholy. "A house with a garden, lots of Barbie dolls, and a little dog. She didn't need more. She just wanted something that was hers."

You stopped for a moment, as if the simple act of recalling those dreams your mother had hurt you. You knew she would never have them. That the world had been cruel to her, denying her even the small things she wished for so fervently.

"But... she never got it. We were always moving around, fleeing, searching for something better. And now... she doesn’t even have that."

The car seemed to shrink, the air denser. Gordon felt a wave of compassion for that woman who, though perhaps not perfect, had dreamed of something so simple, so human, and yet had not achieved it.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n," he murmured.

"Commissioner, what if... what if I can't forget her?" you asked, almost in a whisper. "What if I can't stop thinking about Mom?"

The silence in the car became heavy, almost tangible. Gordon wanted to tell you that you didn't have to forget, that it was natural to carry that pain. But the words didn't come, and instead, only a long sigh escaped his lips.

"It's not about forgetting, Y/n," he finally said, his voice low but firm. "It's about moving forward, even though it hurts. Your mother would want you to find happiness again, even though it may not seem possible now. And I’m sure Bruce will do everything in his power to help you."

The car turned onto the long, dark road leading to Wayne Manor. The trees formed a tunnel of shadows, as if the road were wrapped in the same mourning you carried within. The mansion, with its imposing grandeur, appeared in the distance, its walls as high as the secrets it held. "You were so small in the face of the immensity of this new life that awaited you."

"We're almost there," Gordon said softly, as he slowed down. "The wind outside whispered through the trees, like an echo of everything you had lost."

You didn’t know it at that moment, but that house would be full of stories, some broken, others in the process of healing. And although you felt like a stranger in a strange land now, Gordon hoped that, one day, that place would become your refuge.

The car stopped in front of the enormous gates. Gordon looked at you one last time before getting out. In his eyes, you could see a mix of sadness and hope, an empathy that went beyond words.

"You are not alone, Y/n," he said, his voice now firmer. "You will never be alone again."

You remained silent, gazing at the mansion as you clung to the blanket and the Batman doll. The weight of the world still rested on your small shoulders, but for the first time, there might have been a glimmer of relief in knowing that someone, even if he was a strange and distant man, was waiting for you inside."

And in that moment, although you still felt the burning pain of your loss, a ray of hope began to break through the shadows of your heart.

Y/n was sitting in the BatCafé, that corner of the city where the tables wobbled and conversations were woven into murmurs, as if the place knew how to keep secrets that even you wouldn’t dare to share aloud. The walls, a mossy green, were filled with stories that no one had asked for. She looked at her lukewarm latte as one looks at a future that hasn’t quite arrived, a liquid mockery evaporating before it could warm her hands. It had barely been a month since she left her family home, but she already felt that independence was more of a myth than a fulfilled dream. At first, the heroism of having thrown herself into the world had filled her with pride, but now reality lurked like a treacherous chill seeping through the cracks, and the fact that she was waiting for her potential roommate didn’t help matters.

“Well, at least the rent will be cheaper,” she told herself, or rather to the coffee, as if the dark liquid could reply with something sensible.

Sharing an apartment was, for Y/n, the only way out. Her salary barely covered survival, but only if she fed on fresh air and broken dreams. And there she was, waiting for someone named Pamela Isley, who, according to the ad, didn’t even seem to be from this planet. "I hope she’s not one of those people with invisible cats," she thought. Of course, the alternatives weren’t very promising: people who collected Batman figurines or guys who made friends with cockroaches in the kitchen. She had seen it all; after all, her apartment was in one of the most dangerous areas of Gotham, and she knew it all too well.

You were born in that area. One could say the neighborhood chose you before you had a chance to choose it. You didn’t remember exactly which apartment; in that hive of broken windows and half-painted bricks, all the floors seemed like a blurry copy of the previous one, each with the same square footage and an air of silent resignation. In the end, it didn’t matter, because in a way, everything was the same. Dust in the corners, worn tiles, cracks in the walls that seemed to form a map of some invisible and secret city, a place that only you could decipher if you stopped to observe long enough.

It was an unpretentious place, where people rarely smiled, but neither did they let themselves be trampled. There was something in the air, a kind of poorly disguised pride, as if every neighbor, every stray dog, knew that surviving there wasn’t a matter of luck but of will. Heroes didn’t exist in that corner of the world, but villains didn’t dare impose their law without facing some gaze that, without saying anything, said it all. It was rough terrain, where kindness camouflaged behind growls and complaints, and malice grew tired before it could fully settle.

And yet, you loved it. It was absurd, but you loved it with that devotion reserved for things you don’t choose, for roots that sink into your chest without asking for permission. The place was filled with memories you didn’t ask for, stories you never wanted to hear but that seeped into your skin. Tales of people who vanished in alleyways, of broken promises around the corner, of loves that drowned in factory smoke. And yet, those same tales were like echoes that held you, reminding you that you were born there, in that half-hell where life was always a fight but never a complete defeat.

The clock in the BatCafé struck six ten when the door opened. What happened next was hard to explain, like when you dream and you don’t know if it’s the pillow or the universe holding you. Pamela Isley walked in, and it was as if the wind, that autumn wind that brings memories, had gently pushed her in. Y/n looked up, and the first thing she noticed was her hair, a red that was out of this world, more fire than pigment, more nature than dye. The roots tangled as if they were living branches, and for a moment, Y/n wondered if the sun had made a mistake and was shining only on her.

Pamela walked as if she had a pact with the earth. Her steps were slow but firm, as if her feet waited for the ground to respond before settling. She wore a jacket that was impossible to describe without sounding crazy: green vines and small buds peeking out, as if at any moment the plants would grow over her. "Where does this woman come from?" Y/n thought, feeling something beyond mere curiosity. There was something she couldn’t deny, an attraction that felt unsettling, like those waves that, without warning, sweep you away when you think you can still touch the bottom.

Pamela approached the table with a calculated calm, a calm only nature or time can sculpt. And then she smiled. In that smile, Y/n felt something familiar yet strange, as if she were facing a younger version of her mother, but instead of being terrifying, it was comforting. What was happening?

“Y/n L/n?” Pamela said, her voice reminiscent of the whisper of dry leaves underfoot.

“Yes, that’s me,” Y/n answered, trying to make her voice sound normal, even though everything inside her felt out of place.

Pamela sat down across from her, crossing her legs with an almost feline elegance. The BatCafé seemed to conspire around them; the air smelled of wet earth and freshly brewed coffee, a strange mix, like the combination of what was about to be born and what had already died.

“I didn’t expect you to be…” Y/n began, not knowing exactly how to finish the sentence. She wasn’t even sure what she was expecting.

“Strange?” Pamela completed, with a playful smile that left Y/n with a sense of defeat and fascination in equal parts.

“Something like that,” Y/n replied, looking at Pamela’s hands. Her long, slender fingers were covered in small green spots, as if she had just planted a forest with her own hands. There was something almost magical about her, as if every part of her being was connected to the earth in a way that Y/n couldn’t quite understand. And there, amid that confusion, was the fine thread of attraction.

Pamela let her gaze fall on her own latte, turning it between her hands as if it were about to reveal some hidden secret in the foam.

“So, what do you do? I mean… aside from, you know… looking like you walked out of a Tim Burton movie,” Y/n said, attempting a bit of humor to ease the tension she felt in her stomach.

Pamela glanced at her and laughed softly, a laugh that felt like an unexpected breeze on a hot day.

“I’m… a caretaker. Of plants.” She paused, gauging Y/n’s reaction. “And other things.”

“Other things?” Y/n asked, intrigued but also amused by the way Pamela toyed with the mystery.

“Yes, like people who don’t know how to water a plant without drowning it,” she replied, arching an eyebrow mischievously.

The response made Y/n laugh, a laugh she hadn’t expected, as if Pamela had found a way to touch something deep within her, something that hadn’t bloomed in a long time. And without being able to help it, she felt drawn, not just by the way Pamela moved, spoke, or even by the air of mystery surrounding her, but because there was something more, something familiar, something that reminded her of her mother, but without the shadows of authority and judgment. It was like a wild, free version of what had once been security.

“So… are you going to save my cactus or criticize it?” Y/n said, trying to sound casual while feeling that her heart had started playing a game of chess with her emotions.

Pamela smiled again, and this time it was a different smile, one that seemed to carry a promise.

“It depends. Would you let me stay to try?” Pamela said, with a playful seriousness that left Y/n unsure whether the question was about the cactus or something much larger.

Y/n blinked, trying to process the phrase, but deep down she knew that any answer would sound awkward. Pamela’s question hung in the air between them like a leaf falling slowly, right at the perfect point where it was neither entirely a joke nor completely serious. And there she was, caught in that space, wondering whether she should laugh or just blush.

“Well… you can try,” she finally said, trying to hide the warmth creeping up her face. “But I can’t promise the cactus will survive. I’m something like… a serial plant killer... When I was younger, I had time to care for them as they deserved, with help from… from my father. But now work consumes me a lot, and the truth is I’ve neglected them too much… they must feel the same way I felt when… sorry, I talk too much about myself, don’t I?”

Pamela raised an eyebrow, with a smile that seemed to say more than either of them dared to voice at that moment.

“Oh, no, keep talking about yourself; I’m used to it. I have very… eccentric friends, to be honest.” She leaned a bit closer, as if about to share a secret. “Though I prefer not to work under threats, so don’t look at me like I’m going to be your next plant murder victim. But I doubt a little scared bat can kill even a fly.”

Y/n laughed nervously, surprised at how easy Pamela made everything. She, who had always been clumsy with conversations and glances, felt like the words flowed with Pamela in a way she didn’t quite understand but didn’t want to question either.

“...Little Bat?” Y/n asked, with a clumsy and blushing smile as her fingers nervously toyed with the edge of her cup.

Pamela let out a low giggle, that laugh that always seemed to carry the sound of dry leaves being trampled in autumn. With a gentle gesture, she pointed to her clothes.

“Is it that obvious?” she said with a half-smile, raising a playful eyebrow as she leaned a little forward.

She wore a dark fur coat, enormous, with a wide fall that, under the dim light of the BatCafé, seemed to have the precise shape of bat wings extending. The high, well-fitted black boots completed the image of a figure that seemed to have emerged from the very shadows. And for a moment, Y/n didn’t know whether to laugh or get lost in that air of mystery that Pamela seemed to wear like a second coat.

“Well…” Y/n diverted her gaze with a shy smile, “it’s not like you’re hiding it much.”

Pamela smiled with that touch of mischief that characterized her.

“Does it bother you? I’m sorry, it’s just… I’ve been fascinated by bats since I was little.” she asked, her voice low and slow, as if measuring every word, as if the world were a delicate plant that required to be touched with the tips of her fingers.

Y/n let out a small nervous laugh, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks again.

“No, not at all. I think it’s…” she hesitated for a second, searching for the right word, unsure how to avoid the obvious, “I think it suits you well.”

Pamela watched her for a moment, and then, with that look that always seemed to go beyond what words said, added:

“You’re turning red, you know?”

Y/n’s eyes widened a bit more, surprised by Pamela’s directness, but all she could do was laugh at herself.

“Well, it’s just that, I’m not really used to… this.”

“This?” Pamela repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Sharing coffee with someone or bats?”

“Both,” Y/n admitted, shrugging, which provoked another smile from Pamela. “I always wanted one as a pet… but I have a vegan little brother who’s very… spooky… so I’ve always been afraid he’d steal it from me or accuse me of having exotic pets.”

Pamela settled into the chair, not taking her eyes off Y/n.

“But you’ll get used to it,” she paused, letting her words float calmly.

Y/n felt a shiver run down her spine, a mix of nerves and a spark of something she couldn’t quite define. Pamela’s dark coat and relaxed smile were a disconcerting yet strangely familiar contrast, as if they had always been there, waiting for her. And suddenly, all she could do was wonder how soon that would happen… getting used to it.

“Although I can’t promise my apartment isn’t… a battlefield,” Y/n said, trying to sound confident, but noticing the slight tremor in her voice.

Pamela looked at her intently for a moment, with that mix of flirtation and something deeper, something that seemed impossible to decipher completely. Then she relaxed in the chair, as if the game had just begun.

“A battlefield, huh?” she said, playing with the spoon of her coffee. “Well, I like challenges. And chaotic places have their own charm if you know where to look.” Pamela let the phrase slide smoothly, like someone throwing a stone into a lake and waiting for the ripples.

Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that every word Pamela spoke carried a double meaning, but far from making her feel uncomfortable, it sparked something akin to contained laughter, as if they were sharing a private joke that she was just beginning to access.

“Don’t you have plants at home?” Pamela suddenly asked, as if the question had sprung from the foam of her coffee.

“Well, there are a couple of cacti… and a fern that I think hates me,” Y/n replied. “But I always forget to water them. Or I overwater them. Seriously, it’s like plants come to me already doomed.”

Pamela smiled, one of those slow smiles that seem to grow little by little, like a sprout deciding when the perfect moment to emerge into the light is.

“It’s not just about water, Y/n,” she said, with that voice that seemed to carry the calm of the wind and the weight of centuries of nature. “Plants need attention. Patience. Sometimes they just want to know you’re there, even if you don’t say anything.” She paused, letting Y/n’s gaze get lost in her eyes. “Sometimes, like people.”

Y/n felt a little shiver. It wasn’t what Pamela was saying, but how she was saying it. There was something in her voice that disarmed her, as if every word had been calculated to penetrate a defense that Y/n hadn’t even realized she had up. And then, almost without thinking, she let slip a truth she rarely shared.

“I’m not very good with people.” The confession came out of her mouth before she could stop it. She said it without drama, almost as if she were talking about the weather. But something in Pamela changed, barely perceptible, like a leaf moving without the wind touching it.

“Really?” Pamela asked softly, but without an ounce of pity. Just curiosity.

Y/n looked down for a moment, fiddling with the edge of her cup, before daring to continue.

“I grew up in a huge house, but… empty. My father… well, he was busy with his things. Business, parties, the usual. Shrugging it off, wanting to downplay it, even though inside she knew it wasn’t something that could easily fade away. Alfred, the butler, raised me. And yes, he was amazing. But it was always just him and no one else. It’s not the same as having… friends.”

Pamela listened in silence, but not in that awkward way where people listen just to see how you respond afterward. No, there was something in her attention that enveloped Y/n, as if she were giving her space to bare herself without fear of being judged.

“You never had friends,” Pamela asserted more than asked.

Y/n shook her head.

“Until now,” Pamela said, with that same softness that seemed to have become her trademark, and something in Y/n’s chest stirred, as if she had just heard the most important thing in the world.

There was a moment of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a silence that somehow connected them. And then Pamela broke the spell, with a mischievous smile that lit everything up again.

“So… are you going to let me be your first friend, or would you rather keep killing plants?”

Y/n couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips, a sincere and liberating laugh, as if something inside her had broken an invisible chain. After all, it was clear that Pamela wasn’t just another person passing through her life. There was something different about her, something that made the air feel lighter, that made the future seem less uncertain.

“Well, if you can survive the cactus…” Y/n said, leaving the sentence unfinished, but knowing Pamela would understand.

And then, for the first time in a long time, Y/n felt that everything might be okay. That maybe, just maybe, Pamela Isley wasn’t just a roommate, but the first person in a long time with whom she could imagine a less lonely future. She was already caught in that web, and the worst, or perhaps the best part, was that she didn’t care at all.

Bruce Wayne was sitting in the mansion's garden on a gray afternoon that seemed to drag memories along like the wind drags fallen leaves. In his hands, a cup of black coffee, still steaming, its strong and bitter aroma mingling with the scent of damp earth after the rain. In front of him, on a small wrought-iron table, rested a piece of dark chocolate cake topped with melting strawberry ice cream, forming a pink puddle around it. But he found no pleasure in the view. It was more of a bitter symbol of a routine he once believed unbreakable.

In the garden, where the wilted flowers swayed gently, a little girl flitted about with contagious energy, as if the chill of the afternoon did not exist for her. Her laughter, so innocent and pure, filled the air, breaking the sepulchral silence that seemed to reign in that old home for a moment. She wore a pink dress with small white dots, an 80s style that would have been charming in another time but now seemed out of place with the scene. Her patent leather shoes shone as she ran back and forth, chasing her dolls.

In her small hands, she held action figures, one of the Batman her father portrayed and another of the Joker, his eternal rival. The girl, no older than six, organized her battles with adorable seriousness. In a high-pitched, mischievous voice, she brought the characters to life, staging an epic duel between hero and villain.

“You won’t defeat me this time, Batman!” she exclaimed, raising the Joker figure with a malevolent laugh.

“I will stop you! I always do...” she replied with her other hand, giving voice to Batman, but with a childlike touch that contrasted with the darkness of the character.

Bruce watched the scene with a mix of tenderness and pain. He knew she wasn’t really there, that this vision was nothing more than a distant echo of what never was. Y/n, his little Y/n, had vanished months ago. And he… he had never given her the love she deserved, always wrapped in his own shadows, in his endless struggle to protect a city that never rested.

The air felt thick, heavy with nostalgia and regret. The girl continued to play, laughing, talking to her dolls, oblivious to the weight of the years, to the loss. And Bruce, although he knew it was an illusion, couldn’t look away; he couldn’t stop imagining what it would have been like to give her what he never knew how to offer. What it would have been like to see her grow, to laugh more, to run through those gardens with the carefree spirit only childhood allows.

Suddenly, the sound of soft footsteps interrupted the daydream. Alfred appeared at the garden entrance, always elegant, always with that air of discretion and understanding that only he possessed. He approached slowly, placing a hand on Bruce’s shoulder as if he understood the pain that kept him trapped in that scene.

“Mr. Wayne” he said in a low voice, filled with compassion, “it’s time to come back.”

Bruce closed his eyes for a moment, letting Alfred’s words seep into his consciousness. He knew what they meant. He knew that girl, in her 80s dress and her dolls, was nothing but an idealized memory, a distorted reflection of what never was. Because Y/n wasn’t like that. She didn’t like those old dresses; she had always preferred the fashion of the 2000s, with its vibrant colors and comfortable clothes. And she never enjoyed the chocolate cake now sitting in front of him. She liked carrot cake, simple and sweet, but he had never paid attention to those details when he still could.

How did he know those little details about his daughter? Bruce often wondered. It wasn’t because he had learned them by being close, because proximity had been a luxury he never allowed himself. No, those small fragments of her life he had discovered in the album that Alfred kept with an almost reverential discretion. That album was more than just an object; it was a silent refuge where Alfred had archived what the big house, always filled with shadows and echoes of footsteps that never came, had refused to hold.

The day the children learned of the album’s existence marked the beginning of a chaos he still remembered with a mix of exasperation and a contained smile. They had decided, like little conspirators, that treasure belonged to them. A kind of all-out battle had ensued in the mansion, something that over time acquired the quality of family legends.

Bruce, standing in the study, could still see the sparkle in Damian’s eyes, the intensity, the almost playful fury with which he had taken that assault as a personal mission. Damian, with his perpetual impatience, had been the fiercest of all. He vividly remembered how his youngest son had burst into the room wielding two katanas, with the cold precision of a millennia-old warrior, even though his hands were still too small to fully grasp the handles.

“It’s mine!” Damian shouted, with that mix of stubbornness and vulnerability that only the youngest possess, as if he could cut not only the air but the very uncomfortable silence that always floated between them.

“It belongs to all of us, Damian” Bruce had tried to intervene, with that authoritative voice that, curiously, never managed to control his own children as he did with the chaos of the city.

But Damian wasn’t listening. For him, the album was not just an object; it was a relic, a bridge to something he felt but couldn’t name. His sister Y/n, so distant in daily life, was closer in those pages than in any superficial conversation they had ever had. She was his sister, but not enough. He wanted those photos, those notes that Alfred had kept, he wanted to understand what it was about her that slipped away from him daily.

Bruce watched from the threshold, not really intervening. He let the chaos unfold, as if it were necessary. The children fought, but it wasn’t just for the album. They fought for something deeper, a kind of silent reclamation of what they had never been able to have: time, connection, perhaps even love. Alfred, from a corner, merely smiled with that quiet wisdom, knowing that those battles of childish katanas, of shouts and disputes over photos and notes, were actually the way they tried to find each other in a house full of absences.

Bruce sighed, remembering. Alfred had always known more than he did, always understood those invisible things that Bruce, no matter how much he wanted to, could never quite grasp. And so it was that he himself, at the end of it all, also ended up snooping in that album, with a silent curiosity he would never admit. There, in those carefully tended pages, he found his daughter. Or at least, he found the idea of her, the pieces of a life he hadn’t shared but that, somehow, had always been present in those photos, in those little notes that Alfred, more of a father than he was, had kept with such love.

“She won’t come back, Alfred... I lost her... maybe forever... ” Bruce murmured, his voice barely audible, as if admitting it aloud would make her absence more real—“and I… I was never there for her as I should have been.”

The old butler sighed, his tired eyes filled with infinite patience.

“It’s never too late to remember, sir. It’s never too late to honor her memory in the right way.”

Bruce opened his eyes, looking again at the scene, but this time more clearly. The girl had disappeared.

The wind blew gently through the Wayne mansion's garden, carrying away the murmur of the dry leaves. Bruce remained motionless, as if the weight of the years, of the mistakes, had turned him into another statue in that landscape. The aroma of coffee had dissipated, and the cake before him remained untouched. Y/n’s figure still floated in his mind, her laughter like a distant echo that wouldn’t fade but also wouldn’t console him.

Alfred, with the patience only a father at heart could have, stood by his side, his firm hand on Bruce’s shoulder, as if in that gesture he could transmit strength to face the pain that gnawed at him.

“Mr. Wayne” Alfred began, his voice soft but laden with meaning, “the kids have gone looking for Y/n again.”

Bruce closed his eyes, allowing those words to sink into his consciousness. He knew all the Robins and Batgirls had been following leads, searching for answers in the darkest corners of Gotham, but the emptiness he felt remained overwhelming. They had failed so many times… what did another attempt matter? The city, always hungry for its heroes, seemed more a trap than a cause.

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Alfred” Bruce replied, his voice rough, worn down by years of struggle. “None of this will change what happened. Y/n… is gone.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Alfred interjected, this time with a firmer tone, “Y/n is still out there. And as long as there’s a single chance to find her, you cannot allow yourself to give up.”

Silence stretched between them. Bruce’s gaze remained fixed on some point in the garden, lost in thought. But Alfred, with his usual insight, knew he needed more than empty words to awaken him.

“There’s something else,” Alfred added, taking a breath, “a new figure appeared last night during a robbery in the East District. They call her Kerosene. The White Bat. She was seen taking out a group of assailants in seconds.”

Bruce didn’t react. Kerosene. The city had always generated figures willing to fill the void he had left every time he stepped away, every time Gotham lost the light of its vigilante. But this time, he didn’t feel the urgency to learn more. What did it matter? He repeated to himself. Gotham already had its heroes.

“I don’t care” he murmured, his voice empty, as cold as the air surrounding the garden—“Let others deal with Gotham. Kerosene, the Joker, or whoever… the city doesn’t need me anymore.”

Alfred tightened his grip on Bruce’s shoulder, almost like a father refusing to see his son give up. He stepped forward, and this time his voice was lower but more incisive.

“This isn’t about Gotham, sir,” he said with an intensity Bruce hadn’t expected—“It’s about Y/n.”

Bruce lifted his gaze, his eyes finally meeting Alfred’s, as if those words had ignited a spark within him.

“If you don’t want to protect this city, do it for her ” Alfred continued—“Because you will find her, sir. I’m sure of it. And when you do… how would you want her to find you? Destroyed? Defeated? No. You need to be ready, you need to be strong, for her. Wherever she is, Y/n is still waiting for her father.”

Bruce felt the pain in his chest intensify, a constant reminder of his failure, but Alfred was right. Y/n was somewhere out there. Alive or not, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that as long as he didn’t find her, he couldn’t give up.

“The kids have done everything they can to find her,” Alfred said, softening his tone—“They’re still at it. Every day they search for new leads, explore new corners of Gotham… but there’s only one man who can put everything in order. There’s only one father who can bring her back.”

The air tensed between them, and for the first time in a long time, Bruce felt a slight tremor inside. He remembered the moment he decided to become Batman, driven by the guilt and pain of losing his parents. Now, that same guilt, that same pain, called to him again, but this time, it wasn’t for Gotham. It was for Y/n. His daughter.

“Tell me, Alfred, who is this Kerosene?” Bruce murmured, finally reacting to the information Alfred had given him.

“Yes, sir. Her abilities are astonishing, according to reports. Agile, fast… but her true identity remains a mystery. Some say she’s just another vigilante trying to fill the void you left. But the important thing is that she is acting with lethal precision.”

Bruce stood slowly, leaving the cup of coffee on the table, already cold and forgotten. He looked at the empty garden, but this time, with a new determination blooming in his chest.

“If this Kerosene is connected… if there’s any link to Y/n, I will find out,” he said, his voice firmer, closer to the one Alfred had known for so many years—“And if not… then I’ll find her myself.”

Alfred nodded, a mix of relief and satisfaction reflected on his face. He had managed to awaken the man Gotham needed, but more than that, he had awakened the father Y/n deserved.

“ Very well, sir,he replied with a slight smile, always the unwavering servant—“The Batcave is ready for your return.”

Bruce turned toward the mansion, but not before glancing once more at the garden, where Y/n’s figure, so real in his mind, faded like morning mist.

Wherever you are, I will find you.

Richard “Dick” Grayson knocked forcefully on the old apartment door, the echo resonating in the narrow hallway of the building, where dust gathered in the corners like forgotten memories and the lights flickered as if trying to perform one last dance before going out. Beside him, Barbara Gordon, the commissioner's daughter, crossed her arms, staring at the door with an intensity that could have splintered the wood.

Jason Todd, restless to his left, kept his gaze fixed on the doorknob, his body tense, as if each passing second brought him one step closer to breaking through that wooden barrier. Above, on the roof, Red Robin, The Spoiler, and Batgirl waited, shadows in a world that seemed to ignore their pounding hearts, ready to act.

“I don’t know why we always have to deal with the worst specimens of humanity,” Barbara murmured, adjusting her coat as she shot a sidelong glance at Dick, who seemed to have a plan in mind.

“Because we’re lucky,” Jason replied, sarcasm lacing his words, a crooked smile on his lips that didn’t quite fit the situation. “And when I say ‘lucky,’ I mean we’re carrying someone else's karma because we… are screwed.”

Dick knocked on the door again, this time with more force. The echo reverberated through the hallways, a declaration of intent.

“We should break it down. You know it’s not going to open just from a gentle knock,” Jason said, stepping forward, his intention clear and palpable.

“Calm down, Jason. Not all problems are solved with violence,” Barbara retorted, though a part of her knew that idea faded every time they found themselves in a situation like this.

“Sure, as if we have another option. Do you want me to schedule a tea date instead of kicking down the door?” Jason frowned, the tension palpable.

Finally, a sound came from behind the door. Chains, the metallic echo of locks being unlatched with a maddening slowness, as if someone on the other side knew that every second of wait was boiling the blood of the three standing before the door. At last, the door opened just enough to reveal a face: the landlord. A short man with small eyes and a slimy smile that seemed to ooze like dirty oil through his yellowed teeth.

“What do you want?” he asked in a thick voice, looking at Dick with suspicion, but his gaze soon dropped to Barbara, lingering unpleasantly on her figure, and then to Jason, who had already tensed the muscles in his jaw.

“We’re looking for Y/n Wayne L/n,” Dick said, trying to maintain his composure, the heat of anger threatening to overflow. “We know she lives here. And we know you know where she is.”

The man let out a laugh under his breath, a rusty squeak that resonated like a heavy joke.

“Ah, the pretty girl… yeah, yeah. And who are you all, huh?” he asked, his slimy tone sending chills that seemed to crawl over Dick's skin.

“It’s none of your concern. We just want to know where she is,” Barbara said, her voice firm and resolute, although the tension in her body betrayed her impatience.

The landlord tilted his head, like a cat playing with its prey, and smiled with a disturbing mischief.

“Well, if you haven’t found her in five months, maybe you don’t want to know,” he said, letting the words drop like stones in a pond, creating ripples of discomfort.

“I warn you, this isn’t a game,” Jason interjected, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t make me remind you what can happen when a man plays with fire.”

The man shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned, although the glint in his eyes betrayed him.

Jason's hand rested near his belt, right where he kept his gun, and although he hadn’t drawn the weapon yet, the threat was clear.

The landlord noticed but instead of being scared, he wore a repugnant smile, like a predator that had just spotted a wounded prey. His gaze shifted back to Barbara, and then, without the slightest respect, murmured something that made Dick’s fists clench.

“Ah, Y/n... yeah, I remember her. She came around when she had just turned eighteen. Good material, if you catch my drift. She looked innocent, but... those are the most interesting ones, right?” The man's gaze darkened, scanning Barbara again, as if evaluating merchandise.

“Say that again,” Jason growled, drawing his gun in a motion so quick that the landlord barely had time to blink before feeling the cold barrel pressed against his forehead. “And I swear I’ll blow your brains out right here.”

The words hung in the air, sharp, loaded with contempt and a lust that twisted like a snake inside him.

The man let out a cynical chuckle, relishing the moment.

“The last time I saw pretty Y/n was a while back. I don’t know what she’s up to now, but I kept some pictures of her and her friend.” His tone was defiant, almost mocking.

Rage was bubbling in Jason. His fists were clenched, a deadly spark in his eyes.

“What did you say?” His voice trembled between anger and control, like a string about to snap.

The landlord, feeling invincible, continued. “I don’t know if they’re lesbians, but seeing them together was quite the spectacle. Both of them were hot, you know?”

Jason could no longer hold back. The anger erupted like a volcano.

“Shut up!” he shouted, and the sound echoed like a gunshot in the tense silence that had invaded the room.

Before the landlord could react, Jason pulled his gun, aiming with precision.

“I’m going to give you one chance. Tell me where Y/n is. Now.”

The man’s laughter faded, his eyes widening in shock. “Wait, wait, there’s no need to…”

“WHERE?!” Jason's voice thundered, firm and filled with rage, like a storm rumbling in the atmosphere.

The tension became palpable, the air thick with promises of violence.

“Alright, alright!” the landlord stammered, but Jason’s voice turned even colder.

“I’m not going to ask again.”

“She just left for work at night and that’s it…” he started to say, but Jason could no longer hear. The man had photos of Y/n. Compromising, crude, and that simple mention ignited hell in his chest.

In an instant, the sound of an explosion resonated in the hallway, and the man fell to the ground, his silly smile erased by the terror that had overtaken his face. Blood gushed forth in a dark torrent, staining the floor and nearby walls.

Barbara covered her mouth in shock, while Dick stood frozen, stunned.

“Jason!” she exclaimed, but the image of the landlord lying on the ground with his vacant stare was etched in her mind.

Jason holstered the weapon, his breath rapid and uncontrolled. He had crossed a line, and in that moment, he realized there was no turning back. Anger had found a way to break free, but at a terrible cost.

“I won’t let anyone hurt Y/n again,” he murmured, his eyes filled with determination. No one else would stand in his way to find her, no matter the price he had to pay.

The room was saturated with the echo of the gunshot, and the silence grew heavy, almost palpable. Barbara took a deep breath, the anger sparking in her eyes as she looked at Jason, who still seemed dazed by the act he had committed.

“What the hell were you thinking?” she said, her voice contained but sharp as a blade. “That’s why we didn’t bring Damian along, because he would have gone off just the same, but in a much more reckless way.” Her gaze fixed on the corpse, lying in a pool of blood, a scene that could have come from the mind of a disturbed artist.

Jason, with his chest heaving and jaw clenched, simply shrugged.

“I couldn’t just stand by. He knew something, and I wasn’t about to let it slip away.” The fervor in his voice didn’t hide the confusion that was beginning to seep in, like the cold of the night creeping through the windows.

Barbara didn’t respond, but the silence that filled the room grew even denser when the others entered, alarmed by the gunshot. Tim, Stephanie, and Cass arrived, their expressions filled with concern that quickly transformed into indignation.

“What happened here?” Tim asked, his eyes widening at the scene. Blood slid across the floor like a dark river, and the landlord’s body faded beneath the flickering light.

“Are you crazy, Jason?!” Steph exclaimed, disbelief palpable in her voice.

Cass crouched down, her expression grave as she looked at the fallen man. She didn’t need to speak to convey her disapproval; every glance said more than a thousand words.

“It doesn’t matter how we got here,” Dick intervened, his authoritative tone trying to restore order. “We need answers. Let’s investigate.”

With a determined movement, Barbara approached the body, while Jason still breathed irregularly, as if the weight of his actions began to settle on him. Barbara looked around; the apartment was a dusty and sad place, filled with shadows that seemed to whisper secrets.

As the others searched, Tim found a series of photos pinned to the walls, each one showing Y/n and other women from the area, frozen laughter in time, trapped between moments that should have been happy. However, there was something unsettling about the way they were arranged, a disorder that seemed a declaration of possession.

“Look at this,” Tim said, pointing to the images. There was Y/n, always smiling, but next to her was a figure that couldn’t be ignored. The silhouette of Pamela Isley, better known as Poison Ivy, stood beside her, her red hair like a fire that seemed to consume the sadness of the place.

“Pamela…” Cass murmured, her voice almost a whisper. “She’s been in Arkham for three months.”

Barbara moved closer, examining the photos more closely. “This is more complicated than we thought. Ivy has been involved, and that changes everything.”

Jason, still trying to comprehend the chaos he had unleashed, ran a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll find Y/n. I don’t care what I have to do.”

Barbara looked at him, her expression one of challenge but also understanding. “We can’t do this recklessly. We have to be smart. Silent.”

The group nodded, realizing that the road ahead would be filled with dangers, but also promises of redemption. They were all willing to kill for Y/n, but they had to do it quietly, like shadows slipping through the streets at night.

“Listen, we’re going to find her,” Dick said, his voice resonating like a mantra. “No matter how many doors we have to break down, how many truths we have to drag into the light.”

And so, in the echo of the silence that followed the violence, the five united in a tacit pact, intertwining their destinies in the search for Y/n. Each lost in their thoughts, each remembering that shadows sometimes have the power to conceal not only secrets but also the light that clings to hope.

The shadows stretched as they moved away from the apartment, leaving behind the vestige of a dead man and the echo of trapped laughter. The search had begun, and Y/n’s fate hung in the balance, a thread of light in the darkness that promised to bloom amid the ruins of despair.

The city lights flickered in the distance, like lost stars in the asphalt.

The tears of Y/n fell onto the slippery ground, forming puddles that blended with the blood, a dark ruby staining every part of her thin body, as if sins were being tattooed onto her skin. The humidity of the place smelled of iron and fear, of broken promises and a destiny she had chosen but didn’t quite know how to accept.

“It doesn’t feel good, little one?” said the Doctor, his voice a bitter whisper echoing off the damp walls of the room. He, with his dirty blonde hair falling messily over his forehead, wore a white coat that looked more like a rag than a symbol of authority. A cynical smile spread across his lips, revealing teeth that seemed sharper than the fate he had designed for her. “Bathing in the blood of enemies, isn’t it an exquisite pleasure?”

Y/n, her gaze lost at a point on the floor, nodded slowly, as if each movement cost her an eternity. The blood, warm and sticky, slid between her fingers, a sensory experience that drowned her in contradictions. On one hand, there was a dark delight in the power that image conferred upon her, a power she had learned to wield. But on the other hand, there was an abyss of pain threatening to consume her.

“It’s…” she whispered, barely able to form words. Her voice trembled like a leaf in autumn, indecision etched in her features. Guilt suffocated her, and each tear that fell was a reminder of what she had lost, of what she had left behind.

“What is it?” asked the Doctor, leaning toward her, his eyes lit by a glow that was not exactly compassion, but rather a cruel satisfaction. His gaze seemed to pierce through the layers of her being, scrutinizing the dark corners of her soul. “Is it pleasure you feel, or is it fear?”

Y/n recoiled, feeling her skin burn under his gaze. The Doctor’s words tangled in her mind, forming a knot that seemed impossible to untie. Her voice, almost a cry for help, resonated in the air.

“I don’t know! I don’t know if it’s pleasure or pain.” The words shot out like arrows, but only managed to embed their tips in the empty air, finding no destination. She trembled, caught between repulsion and the desire to free herself from the invisible chains that kept her anchored in that place.

The Doctor let out a cold laugh, as if he were enjoying the spectacle unfolding before him. With a careless gesture, he threw another bucket of blood onto the floor, creating a small puddle that slid toward Y/n.

“That is the beauty of your situation, my dear. You have been chosen to cleanse Gotham of the scum, and along the way, you will discover that pain and pleasure are two sides of the same coin.”

“Chosen?” replied Y/n, her voice shaking with the fierce mix of disbelief and rage. “Chosen for what? To be your puppet?”

The Doctor stepped closer, letting the distance between them fade. His presence was oppressive, like a shadow that swallowed light.

“You are not a puppet, Kerosene” he said, pronouncing her name as if caressing it. “You are the spark that can ignite the revolution. The tears that fall now are the ashes of the old you, and it’s time you embrace what awaits you.”

Y/n felt the air grow dense, as if the Doctor’s words were trying to envelop her, to convince her. But there was a truth in his voice, an echo of what she had longed for deep within her being. Hadn’t she been searching for purpose, a place to belong?

“No… I don’t want to be what you’ve made me.” she said, though her voice sounded more hesitant than determined. It was as if reality slipped around her, like the slippery ground she stood on.

“Of course you do, Y/n.” He smiled, and there was something unsettling in that smile, something that made her feel she was on the brink of a revelation. “Your pain is the echo of the city, and you, little one, can be its savior.”

The Doctor’s words resonated in her mind, and Y/n felt herself teetering on the edge of the abyss, the possibility of becoming Kerosene, the force of vengeance and power. She fought against the idea, but there was a part of her that was beginning to awaken, to open like a flower in the desert.

“So, what do I have to do?” she asked, finally facing the reality that surrounded her. The tears, instead of being a sign of weakness, now seemed a recognition of her new identity.

The Doctor looked at her with a mix of satisfaction and complicity, like a teacher who sees the spark of greatness in his student.

“First, you must accept that the past does not define your future. The blood that surrounds you is only the first step toward freedom. Become what you have always been. Your destiny is to burn, and in doing so, illuminate others.”

Y/n felt the weight of her decision slowly fading away. By accepting her destiny, she had found a new way to free herself, a purpose that shone like fire.

“Then I will do it.” she said, her voice now firm and resonant, as if she were finally embracing the darkness that had always dwelled within her. “I will be Kerosene.”

The Doctor smiled, and in that smile lay a world of possibilities. Together, they could shake the foundations of Gotham.

“That’s right, my dear Kerosene.” He stepped back, allowing his figure to fade into the shadows..“And remember, every decision you make will be a step toward glory or toward downfall. The line is thin, and you are destined to cross it.”

“What about them?” Y/n asked, pointing to the shadows surrounding her, referring to the Waynes who remained silent in their luxurious prison of silence. “Where is Batman?”

The Doctor paused, his gaze turning serious and contemplative.

“Since your appearance, the Waynes have become shadows of what they once were. Batman has vanished, as if fear has locked him in his own game. They don’t want you to know the truth, and I wonder if, deep down, he fears what you are capable of.”

“Fears?” repeated Y/n, incredulity splattering her voice like a rain of dead stars. “Why?”

“Because the truth is that there is no longer space for the good in this city.” The Doctor stepped closer, his tone low but filled with fervor. “Soon you will go after the Court of Owls. We will expose those monsters in the streets, as they deserve, and they will have no one to defend them. Not even their beloved bat.”

A chill ran down Y/n's spine. The idea of stepping out into the night, of facing the villains who had ravaged her city, filled her with a strange power. She remembered Pamela, laughing amidst the shadows, her voice like an echo urging her to fight.

“I will not be their puppet. I do not want to be a pawn in a bigger game.” The words erupted from her with the force of an approaching storm, and the vision of Pamela dancing among the flowers filled her with a sudden sweetness.

“You will not be a pawn, Kerosene.” The Doctor smiled, and in his eyes was an air of admiration. “You are the queen in this game. Your vengeance will not only bring down those villains, but it will also seek the man behind the mask of Batman. We need to end him.”

“End him?” The question hung in the air like a trembling whisper. Her heart stopped for an instant, remembering the nights spent with Batman, the unspoken words, the caresses of an absent father.

“Yes. Because he, like them, has become a legend that needs to fall.”

Y/n felt the darkness looming over her, a shadow whispering promises of power and pain. But there was something more, a spark igniting within her, a fire burning with the strength of a new dawn.

“Then I will do it.” said Y/n, her voice resonating with a clarity that surprised her. “I will expose the Court of Owls and make my father see.”

The Doctor watched Y/n with palpable satisfaction, as if he had finally ignited a spark deep within her being. With a gesture of his hand, he made the invisible shackles that kept her trapped fade away. In that moment, a strange freedom slipped over her skin, a freedom laden with dark responsibility.

“Come, Kerosene.” he said, his voice now a hypnotic chant rising among the shadows. “There is something you need to see.”

He led her through a labyrinth of damp hallways, each step resonating like an echo of past decisions. The walls seemed to whisper forgotten secrets, tales of those who had fallen into the abyss before her. As they advanced, the light of day faded, and the gloom became an accomplice to their thoughts.

Finally, they reached the balcony of the building, a place where time had stopped its march. The Doctor gently pushed Y/n toward the railing, forcing her to look out over the vast expanse of Gotham that stretched before them. The city was a canvas of flickering lights and deep shadows, a portrait of intertwined chaos and order.

“Look, little one.” the Doctor whispered, his voice wrapping around her like a veil of mystery. “This is your city, a monster that feeds on the secrets you hold in your chest. The blood that stains your skin is a symbol of the struggle that lies ahead.”

Y/n leaned over the edge of the balcony, feeling the cold wind caress her bare skin. The city glimmered like a sea of dying stars, each light a story, each shadow a whisper of betrayal. The vision enveloped her, and for a moment, she felt like a spectator of her own destiny.

Her bare skin, still stained with blood, prickled at the chill of Gotham, a freezing breeze sneaking through the cracks of crumbling buildings, as if the city itself reminded her that she was alive, that darkness embraced her with its mantle of forgetfulness and despair. Each small contact of the air made her more aware of her vulnerability, and at the same time, of the power that blossomed from within her. It was a reminder that, amidst chaos, she was the spark of a new flame.

The puddles of blood that had stained her skin, silent witnesses to her transformation, shone like a dark ruby under the dim light of the moon. In that moment, each drop was an echo of past decisions, a symbol of the life she had left behind. And yet, in her mind, the Doctor's words echoed: “You are the spark that can ignite the revolution.” The irony of her state wrapped her in a sweet and bitter confusion; deep down, her nakedness felt like a release.

The city stretched before her, a vast ocean of twinkling lights and lurking shadows. Gotham, in its complexity, seemed to breathe, a living being pulsing with stories of pain and longing. The streetlights flickered as if about to go out, and Y/n felt that each flicker was a whisper calling her, a reminder that she was destined to be part of something much larger than herself.

As she gazed at the horizon, her mind filled with images: the faces of those she had lost, those she had loved, and those she had to confront. Her heart wrestled between the desire for vengeance and the longing for redemption.

“What do you see?” asked the Doctor, his eyes shining with an unsettling intensity.

“I see…” Y/n began, but the words slipped away like sand through her fingers. The city was a labyrinth of emotions, a stage where pain and pleasure intertwined in a macabre dance. It was a reflection of her own internal struggle, her desire for vengeance and her yearning for redemption.

“I see a sea of shadows, a stage where illusions collapse like houses of cards.” she finally replied, her voice echoing. “Each light, a hope; each shadow, a whisper of unhappiness.”

“Perfect.” The Doctor smiled, his face illuminated by an almost fraternal satisfaction. “Gotham is a mirror, and you are the light that can break the darkness. You must be able to see beyond what shines.”

The Doctor’s words resonated in her mind, tearing through the veil of confusion that enveloped her. In that instant, Y/n understood that every tear shed had fed the city, that every drop of blood on her hands was an echo of what she had lost. And yet, vengeance offered her a new purpose, a path into the unknown.

“The city cries for change, for a fire to purify it” she whispered, her voice gaining strength in the night breeze. “And I… I am that fire.”

“That’s right, dear.” The Doctor nodded, a mix of pride and malice in his expression. “The fire that will purify Gotham and, in its wake, consume everything that stands in your way.”

Y/n felt the air fill with electricity, a palpable current connecting her to the city, to its pain and desire. Deep within her, something began to change. She was no longer just a puppet; she was no longer merely the shadow of her past. She was Kerosene, the spark that would ignite the flame of change.

“But, Doctor, what about those who love the darkness?” she asked, her voice now an echo of what she had learned. “What if they cling to their shadow?”

The Doctor stepped closer to her, his penetrating gaze filled with complicity.

“Darkness is a possessive lover, but there is always a price to pay. The truth is that they cannot hold onto it forever. And when the fire burns, only those ready to be reborn will be saved.”

Y/n felt a mixture of anguish and determination. The city before her became a symbol of her internal struggle, a stage where light and shadow intertwined in an eternal game. Every street, every building, every corner whispered her name in a song of warning and challenge.

“And when the fire consumes everything in its path, will there be anything left of me?” she asked, her voice trembling with the fragility of a leaf in the wind.

The Doctor smiled, a smile that seemed to mock the questions still dancing in her mind.

“Perhaps, dear Kerosene, you will find yourself in the act of burning. Or maybe, you will fade into the ash. That is the enigma of transformation: in the fire, death is merely the prelude to a new beginning.”

As she gazed at the city, Y/n felt her identity fragment and fuse, in an endless cycle of creation and destruction. The image of Gotham before her became a metaphor for the human soul, a reflection of the struggles everyone faced in the darkness. The city, with its chaos and its heartbreaking beauty, enveloped her like a hug.

With one last look at the flickering lights and lurking shadows, Y/n stepped back, a firm decision rising within her.

“There’s no turning back now” she murmured, her voice an echo of her new reality. “I will be the fire that illuminates this eternal night.”

The Doctor, with a gesture of approval, retreated into the shadows, leaving her alone in her revelation. As the city spread before her, a mantle of mystery and power, Y/n knew that the true journey was just beginning. The line between fire and ash was thin, and in her chest burned the certainty that by crossing it, nothing would ever be the same.

“So be it, Kerosene” she said to herself as the wind enveloped her in secret whispers. “Let the fire speak in your name and let the night receive your lament.”

And looking at Gotham, she understood that, in the end, her destiny was not merely to be a spectator, but an unstoppable force, a storm that would unleash chaos. And so, with her heart beating to the rhythm of the city, she prepared to embrace her truth, her fire.

☆

A/N — Here is the long-awaited third part of this series. Thank you for all the support and love you have given me. I decided to make this part longer (at the cost of not being able to include the last image :( ) so that you can enjoy it more.

I was reading your comments where you were asking if Y/n and the Doctor would have a romance (which horrifies me a bit :d, but it gave me an idea) or if he performed a lobotomy on her. Well, that will be answered in the next part or in a headcanon, whatever you ask me.

By the way, in the tag list, there are some users I couldn't add, sorry about that 😔. I really appreciate your understanding and patience. Your enthusiasm keeps me motivated to keep creating and sharing these stories. I hope you find this installment engaging and that it brings you the excitement and emotions you’ve come to expect from the series. Enjoy!

Don't hesitate to ask me anything if you want.

take a bath!

Tag list! ◇ — @amber-content @toast-on-dandelioms @feral-childs-word @sweetconnoisseurgardener @victoria1676 @toasted-cat18 @nosyrobin @beeaskewwrites @yandere-enthusiast @telltaletoad @dhanyasri @vanessa-boo @m3vl0vesu @jellypotato66 @midnightgrimoire @cherryxxxxyoongi @imnotdumbimstupif @plsfckmedxddy @h0neysiba @mybones537 @erikasurfer @sheepintherain @pix-stuff @yan-rai @uniquecutie-puffs @arlandvery @theblonde777 @alishii

@maicenitas @ti-girl1226 @vanilliona @chickenwings435 @thedramabrotherss @bat1212 @imnotdumbimstupif @somebodyrandom-613 @aelxr @jsprien213 @sheepintherain @lovebug-apple @zenychwan @starsdotalk @holylonelyponyeatingmacaron @misdollface @clementinesyummy @bunbunboysworld @lunaluz432 @kiarst @meowmeeps @adeptusxia0 @mettatons-number-1fan @fairygardenprincesss @nervousalpacalady @mottysith

Inspiration: @acid-ixx with his Again & Again series, @gotham-daydreams ' work, @i-cant-sing's work and @klemen-tine's work, be sure to check them out!

[angelpassing-by]

ᏵꝊ𐌋𐌃𐌄𐌍 𐌔𐌀𐌍𐌃 𐌀𐌍𐌃 ᏵꝊ𐌋𐌃𐌄𐌍 𐌄𐌙𐌄𐌔

Pairing: Jeht x fem!reader Genere: fluff, angst [just a little] Sinopsis: it's the day before your loves goes on a mission with a certain Traveler A/N: I'm screaming, I'm crying, I'm foaming at the mouth. No fics for Jeht?? Now I'm sad. So, I haven't yet completed the whole world quest, but something tells me it will end in heartbreak and I'm SCARED. Sumeru is soo well written i want to scream, aaand Jeht is a lesbian cutie. Obviously I want Jeht for myself, but if I can't have her, please HoYo make Jehtlumi canon.

Marvelous rays of golden sunlight drape over the river's quiet waters, smearing its hue into the tents perched into both of its muddy shores. Lazy spinocrocodiles lay atop of the rocks, their scales glistening of red and ashes. Men and women of the tribe rest too, some beneath the comfort of palm tree shades and others strolling aimlessly. There is a certain tranquility in the air you haven't felt since joining the Tanit, a sort of peace found in the middle of the chaos, the constant uncertainty that dangles over all of your heads.

You can finally see why Jeht likes it here, even though you are both outsiders of some sort; you, more so, being a runaway from Sumeru city. Maybe you are all a big family after all. That thought makes you smile ever so slightly.

Jeht lays at your side, both outside your shared tent, not more than a few scraps of fabric and sturdy wood, with your eyes on the river and, occasionally, on each other. Your lover's golden eyes are as gentle as the setting sun, and so are her lips as she kisses your knuckles.

"Tomorrow I'll set off" she murmurs, still holding your hand between hers.

You know, you've seen the blonde Traveller and her fairy companion, Jeht's precious friend of whom you've heard nothing but honey - sweet praise. Truth be told, those words rarely extend to the flying thing though she quite reminds you of a little sister you once had. You don't really think about those things these days so you shake your thoughts away and bring her hands onto your own mouth, kissing her metal gloved fingers in exchange.

"I know" it's your only response, but on the inside you scream. Why? Aren't I enough for her? That foreigner is surely better, being such a legend. Why is Jeht setting herself up for danger again? Surely she will come home safe, right?

That night you sleep in each other's arms a last time, her body encasing you and her skin, warm and soft, keeping you company throughout the sleepless night. The chilling air pierces through the tent at times and wails as you snuggle closer to Jeht beneath the dusty blanket.

Jeht sometimes mumbles, calling out for something you can't quite make out until the first lights announce the start of another day: "don't... Dad... come... don't go... not there... back". As her words grow in intensity you shake her awake and kiss her good morning while her eyes still try to focus.

After a breakfast made up of dates and Fatteh, you are finally left alone. She fixes a strand of your dark hair behind your ear.

"Don't miss me too much" she murmurs, her forehead against yours.

"I'll just worry sick" Jeht attempts a half smile "be safe."

Now your lips are on her lips and her hands caress the back of your neck with such tenderness that, for a split second, you think you might melt from her touch. That kiss says more than the little words you've managed to spit out. I love you. I know you have to leave, but come back, don't you leave me too. And from her, wait here. Don't risk anything, be safe, be strong for me. I'll come back for you, I promise.

The kiss breaks as a high pitched voice calls for her: "Jeht, we are ready to go!!"; it's the Traveler and her little companion.

You look at her and she looks at you before heading away. She'll come back, you tell yourself but can't help but wonder as every time she ventures away from the tribe.

Is the love of two runaway girls stronger than the desert's deadly embrace?

[tentangsinopsis-blog]

SINOPSIS Film Fabricated City Trans7 Terlengkap (2017)

[elarrendajoazul]

Just Hug It Out (A RS fic)

Based on this piece: http://adultnarwhalshinyeyes.tumblr.com/post/151130107462/ive-been-talking-to-a-friend-about-an-au-to-au

Sinopsis: The guys found themselves in trouble after Margo decides to hide away from the rest of the people, because he has to deal with his weight gain. Their friends will kepp nice about that but soon, Rigby will get in a lot of obstacles after she will try to get Margo back on track. Even he would face the posible antagonist of the history: Margo’s boyfriend, CJ. 

Atención: Anthro, r63, shipping, gay couple and chubby birds (possibly fetish, idk)

Fic right down below after “keep reading”

A quiet apartment in the middle of the city, lights were off and the interiors looked quite dark.

Even though it has pass midnight, fast and cold feet cross from the bedroom to the fridge, striking without mercy, because he was looking for a snack before going back to bed. Joyful, discovers samples of Chinese food he ordered with his boyfriend during last dinner, thanks to his memory which he recalled ordered too many for himself, even he could not finish it. But, his stomach was growling just like he did not get any tiny bit to his mouth.

He keeps the rest of noodles over their hand and stroll right to the comfort of his couch. It creaks, loudly, after he put his huge weight over it. Hearing that awful sound, he looked with surprise how his round belly overshadowed anything over his lap, it was big, and not even a shirt could fit all that, leaving his belly button exposed. For a moment, he felt with guilt.

“Oh, no! How much I gain this time?”

Being recently skinny, he had a harsh time conflicting over negative feelings and dealing with depression, he could not stop eating and he gained weight because of that. Having adopted such unhealthy practices from his sweet boyfriend, which he noticed since he kind of meet each other, but he followed his path, right until the point he was right now. He closed his eyes, to gain focus and loosely keeping his thoughts shut, and so, allowing to swallow some more noodles, which they were their favorites, by the way. Trying to calm his fierce hunger. Only after that, it came the need to open his eyes, because he felt somebody was lurking behind his back.

As you see, even though he tried to be silent, trying to not waking anybody up from the living room, his couple noticed and he woke up with curiosity over what was happening with all that noise, turning the lights on when he got there, he sigh with relief as recognizing a friendly face, worried that it could be someone strange trying to get inside their home.

“Margo? Honey… Are you awake?”

Cloudy James or how people know him, CJ, quickly noticed the food box of Chinese on the young bird’s hand which it makes him smirk a little bit, finding out it was alright.

“Margo, you are only eating… a midnight snack, before bed?”

Margo nodded, looking pretty bashful in front of him. Nervous, he kept eating until finally, he broke silence.

“CJ… I’m worried. You know, I’ve been gaining weight once again and it’s already faster, I’m getting hungry pretty fast too! I’m dealing if this will interfere our relationship, making me not attractive for you!”

“Oh, Margo. What are you talking about? I’m still in love will you and I’m keeping being like that. You will always be beautiful for me, does that counts for you?”

Getting close to the light as he walked, CJ’s figure revealed being as huge as Margo’s, even though he could not mind about his weight at all, he could handle that matter better than CJ as he was gifted by being a cloud and his metabolism could work faster as any anthropomorphic animal could ever think, ever! Margo, being a male robin, just passed to his adult age, he get to CJ’s weight real fast in a short period of two month, making him having a bad time trying to get some sleep. Shocked by all the weight he was getting on himself.

CJ got to his face, and leave a passional kiss, erasing any worries from Margo’s face, making his mind go white and letting himself go, concentrated on the lips of his caring lover. When they separate, CJ took a sit on his side, their hands were touching.

“Margo, please get some sleep. In the morning you will see how everything will fade away. Come with me and relax a little bit”. CJ said in a pretty convincing way, in such a warm voice.

“Alright… but first, let me end this! I don’t want this on the trash can, you know?”

“Do it pretty soon. After that, you will go to bed. Margo, you and me will work this out, together. Goodnight.”

CJ got up and took rest on bed; Margo kept eating, indulging noodles inside his mouth. But, Margo could not resist looking down there, as seeing himself falling to an empty pit, he knew as a shock under his shoulder felt shaking on the inside. He was already in rock bottom.

Next day, on the super market, Margo was using his cart, putting some articles it will give him something to eat for the rest of the month, trying very fast to accomplish his duty so he could get to his apartment.

Trying to achieve that, familiar voices were sounding on the other side of the hall, coming closer and closer….

“Dude, I’m telling you! And then, a giant shark jump to the boat and he tear his whole arm, my own grand uncle’s arm! And that’s how you lose an arm, with style!”

“What? Dude, there’s no way a normal shark could do that! Maybe he lose on a fabric or something, sometimes relatives prank once in a while when you are younger”.

“Hey, hey, Mordo. Quiet! That’s my family you are talking about, and this is the truth! When he comes to visit, oh, I will love the look of your face when you see the place his arm left after he vanished. You can see the mark of teeth that terrible beast lay on his arm forever!”

Margo worried a lot when he recognize them, fearing he would be seen as his condition were getting worse and worse. No one could not see Margo yet!

“Oh, no! The girls, what do I do? What do I do? I need to hide and soon!” he thought immediately, discovering a really and inexplicably huge lot of cookies which will work as an improvised hide out. Amazingly, he got away with it, as Mordecai and Rigby leave just right beside him without seeing him, at all.

He cleaned his forehead as cold sweat run through it, the girls keep chatting until they get to the cashier right far front on the hall, their voice still sound pretty clear until, it inevitably fade away on the distance:

“Dude, that’s crazy. I wish it was worth it that day of fishing, though…”

Margo keep on his way, running right on the other side the gals took a walk, so, he kept with his buy. Then, on the coffee shop, CJ was looking helpless and worried in his own reflex, made by her own coffee, allowing to see his sad face on the liquid.

“It’s not working out, right?” the young mole said, friend and worker of the Coffee Shop.

“No, Eugene. Not at all. He doesn’t even want to go to the coffee shop! I have invited him to drink coffee, something quiet, right? But, he got away and told me he was getting food sooner, because we don’t have any on the fridge anymore. He will to home after that”.

“That… doesn’t sound very optimistic, CJ. To be honest, you are the closest person to him right now, but I am his best friend. I made a promise, for when it could happen something like that, I will do everything in my power to make him feel better. Now that I’m telling you that, well, I wish you the best and I hope this works out! If you need help, don’t doubt to ask me anything!”

“Thanks, Eugene. I’m glad to hear that!”

A brief “yeah” come out of their mouth at the same time, they keep making the same thing they were doing, leaving themselves go under the depressive environment. Then, door open. Two familiar voices start sounding once again.

“Better we got to have some breakfast… I could die for some… ¡oh snap! ¿CJ? ¿How are you, dude?

“Hey, Mordecai! Hehe, nice to see you again!”

“It’s been so long, hey, do you know if Margo will be here?”

“I’m afraid not. This time I’ve come alone. I shouldn’t say this, but just earlier I speak with Eugene about was going on.”

“With Eugene, huh? And what do you talk about? Asked Rigby trying to get in conversation.

“Well, Rigby, now that you asked… we need to help Margo, now as ever. His condition has worsened and I don’t even know how to calm him” CJ speak in the name of both.

“That bad?”

“Yes, Mordo… serious. Like, I’m going to need help to be quiet about anything related to his weight, that’s what been keeping him awake on nights recently.”

“That’s a shame, I really miss him” said a very sad Mordecai.

Rigby watched silently, while the rest of three keep making his plan to don’t let Margo down, which he does not even wanted to assist to the reunions.

“Rigby, promise me you will keep the word.” CJ plead again, waiting for a confirmation.

Rigby’s eyes rolled with disgust. She decided to keep silent about her true feelings, for this one time only.

“Huh, yeah. I don’t promise anything, though.” Mordecai quickly interrupt her, trying to represent both before CJ.

“CJ, we’ll try out best to help you! You guys can go to the park anytime you want!”

“Hey, hear me out! We should do another movie night in your place, gals!” said Eugene very quickly. “It’s not that I’m free on Friday’s nights though’, haha”.

“Yeah, not bad! We could be us, like old times! Without making the effort of exposing him in public! I’m already excited! I’m completely sure; Margo will love to go out!”

Mood changed completely as he came home.

“What do you say you won’t come with us!?”

“CJ, look… I’m not in the mood for such stuff right now. I don’t think I’ll have to strength to face it yet”

Margo found herself, leaving shirtless, exposing his naked torso, CJ was looking from behind as his reflex of his face on the mirror expressed anger. Margo was observing explains with such a blue expression and even tired of what he was trying to do with himself.

“I will need more time”.

“More!? But, Margo, what else I can do!? I do everything possible to make you happy and you leave me dumped in the last minute of anything I want to share with you! Every time I invite you, you say no! C’mon, you promise me you will deal this to work it out but I only see that you are getting worst and worst! For heaven’s sake! How much longer do I need to wait until I heard you’ll be ready to see our friends again!?

The constant strength of his voice scale with such intensity, even his dialogue shock and increase constantly in every second. Failing to hide his wrath, his body started to dematerialize itself, turning into a scary and dark cloud running over the apartment, which spread sparks and thunder filled with such anger. Blind for his ugly temperament, CJ could not get down for himself.

Margo stare silently and walked closer to him, trying to block his path. Soon as CJ realize what he was doing to Margo, he saw he was doing wrong and then, he came back to his normal state, holding hands with his love couple. Both her foreheads rest in each other, holding together for a brief time, as sweet little bells sounding through the placid windy air of a fresh dusk, their minds turned white and they calm down. They truly show without telling a word, that love was still there and no one was searching to make any harm between each other.

“You don’t know how much I understand that, right now. It hurts when you looked so confused, because you are the only one who can help. Help me to help myself, now, more than and ever~”

CJ sigh after hearing those words and kept his eyes shut, hiding any emotion he dealt with, by only staying by his side.

“Of course, Margo. I will do it, more than ever.”

…………………………………………………………………………..

Walking over the sidewalk, Margo took the next day with much optimism than he could expect. Taking conscious and getting better again, he realized only a quiet stroll could sweet his mind without compromising to anything to anything hard for the moment.

Or that was he intented to, before Rigby found him in the same sidewalk-

“Oh, shit…” Margo said on his mind as quickly tried to hide in some block, sideways to the street. Unfortunately, that plan would not help him again.

“Margo? Margo! I see you, Margo! Don’t pretend to hide! Come out, man! Come on!”

Embarrassed till he got red, trying to hide back the trash dispenser, he walk in front of the young raccoon. Girl were using sunglasses and some little handkerchief over her head, he wear shirt dead open with a extra-large t-shirt which it helps to expose her huge knockers. Margo even felt scared for the hard attitude this raccoon could show.

“You don’t believe I couldn’t see you over the sidewalk, dude… it’s been so long since we have seen you in the Coffee Shop, how it’s been with you?”

“Huh…” Margo took his time, but clearly was trying to take a walk to keep on his way. The short space between the block and the trash dispenser made it impossible to cross by, leaving her completely defenseless. Rigby raise an eyebrow, watching him.

“Rigby! Huh… you see! It was very hard to go over there these day ¡I’ve been busy, I really am! ¡So, as soon as I can, I’ll tell Mordecai right away!” Margo smiled nervously, while cold sweat runs again over his face.

“Margo, you are still a horrible liar… dude, said it… Why are you embarrassed to hang out with us?”

“¡I don’t know what you are talking about! ¡No one is embarrassed! Who!? Me!? Hahahaha~!” Margo turned red as he blushed, staying between ropes as he put his body on the dispenser.

“Admit it. I see you’d change, but I don’t care about that. You are still being the same dude we appreciate. C’mon, why don’t we scrap all this crap and you can go and have a visit?”

“Huh… Rigby, I don’t think I can but maybe…”

“Mmph… it’s getting late, Margo. I have to go to the park… see ya!”

Rigby leave as soon as she said that. Meanwhile, Margo’s heart was beating faster as he could not have an easy time to breath, trying to hide his stomach holding his breathing, such concentration were broken as he sit, nervously beside the trash dispenser and after he started to breath heavily, victim of a panic attack.

With a quick jump, he started running on the other side Rigby took path and he run away straight to his apartment, which it was shared by CJ. When he get home, CJ received with surprise how Margo run away to his bed in a way to hide on his bedroom. He closed the door, very loudly.

CJ started to worry, because of the huge progress Margo was already making, that’s why she decide to take part and started to knock the door.

“Are you here that soon? Margo, are you right?”

“What!? Yes, CJ, I am fine! Better than ever!” his voice was higher and he truly exposed how uncomfortably nervous he really was.

CJ did not believe that as he heard how Margo was breathing very heavy, he put his face right to the door to listen, sadness come to his reaction as she was trying to figure out what was happening on that bedroom.

“What has come to you, out there?”

“Nothing! Nothing at all! I only… take a break! Tomorrow I’ll try again… promise! Maybe I could not met someone less familiar though.

That last part was mumbling that Margo tried to keep to herself but it was loud enough for CJ to catch it. He stood on the door, starting to ask himself the meaning of such strange wording. Only then, as soon as the strike of thunder, it all started to make sense, when she acknowledges creating a link which only follows to one suspect.

“Rigby!” she thought.

There was inactivity for the rest of the day, until then, the morning after, when the inevitable confront in the Coffee Shop happen. Early, Mordecai and Rigby were in the Coffee Shop, having breaking.

“You don’t think how awesome I could look if I had a robotic arm!?” asked Mordecai leaving such a jokingly grin.

“Huh, I really like to but, I would never play strong arms with you for the rest of my life.”

The door open and CJ came quickly at the table, recognizing someone which needed to hear something very important:

“Rigby! Where were you, yesterday?”

“Oh CJ, how’s it going? Any update with the Margo situation?” She slurp one sip of coffee as she wait for an answer.

“That’s exactly what I come to talk about! Everything was just fine until he came back and he locked himself on the bedroom… after seeing someone familiar!”

“What are you guys talking about? Did you see Margo, yesterday, dude?” Mordecai said pretty confused. Eugene leave the kitchen, holding a jar of coffee on his hand, hearing all the noise.

“Fuck’s sake! Yes, I did meet with Margo and yes, I talk to him. But what I said was that she needed to come with us! He was acting already weird since he recognized me on the street, even he tried to hide but after that, we talk a little until I leave”.

“What a way to do it, then! Can you explain? You make that one week of progress were thrown to the trash can, I told you, Rigby! Don’t be direct, you promised!”

“Dude, I didn’t do shiet! Even I said we miss him pretty lots and we needed him back! Are you trying to boss me for something you asked me to?”

CJ took a long sigh, leaving frustration: “Rigby, I’m not mad, but that’s the last time! I’ll go home with Margo, see you later” As that, CJ go away, waiting for a relaxing day, taking another day to not find with their friends, again.

“What the hell was that?” Eugene asked, finally taking enough courage to get close to his friends.

“I forgot to bring my raincoat. I didn’t know it could rain down here!” Rigby cynically joked and put her hands under the head, taking an exhausting break over the table.

“So… how was Margo, like?” asked Mordecai.

“Huge, Mordo, he was huge!” Rigby stopped after he looked face to face how sad was Mordecai about Margo, he could see how pain was rolling upon her blue eyes. “Seriously, they are making a huge deal about this. When they get ready, they need to come back, whenever they want, I don’t want to get in any trouble if that’s you want to believe.”

“Well, if it’s impossible for us to act and seeing CJ its mad with you, Rigby, what we can do?”

“I’ve no idea, Eugene. And that’s worrying me, right now! I could call CJ promising that everything shall be fine now but I don’t see possible for us to visit them on their home. It will be very awkward for everyone involved.” Say Mordecai.

“Fuck, you are making things worst! We’re making a huge deal about it! We need to see Margo, now!”

“Maybe you should calm down, dude! Maybe you are the one who are complicating this”

“What!? Now I am the trouble!?

“I’m not sure but Mordo it’s trying to tell that your reactions are making to misunderstood anything you try to say. If you were conscious about accepting what CJ propose instead of not promising anything, maybe we could not even had this problem with Margo in the first place”

“Now it’s my fault that Margo’s been ignoring me in the middle of the street and talk to me like I’ve never met her! It’s so easy to walk out of his home and come with us in the Coffee Shop! You guys were not even there! How do you think you can criticize my actions?

Mordecai tried to defend herself: “But… Rigby…”

“Stop with the buts, Rigby! I don’t like we have tried so hard to make Margo feel better and this guy does not had the sense to return these favors. I’m not the one to talk but you are your best friends, reason with him! Mordecai, Eugene?

Mordecai and Eugene looked each other, without knowing what to do, Mordecai looked back trying to show empathy as it failed miserably, her mouth couldn’t assure the words of support she needed to hear, as she only come a brief mumble.

This make Rigby insane and she took her hands over back of the neck and hide her face over the table. The talk turned quiet and dead cold for a few minutes.

It looked like CJ could have the same awkward evening until he opened the door and left his key over a bowl. Suddenly, as he turns on the lights, he found out Margo was sitting on the couch, he smile as soon as he noticed CJ was here.

“Margo… you’re outside.”

“I want to apologize for what I’ve done. I’ve thinking about it and I want to try it again.”

“Really? Um, look, it’s pretty early yet, why don’t you take a walk if you want to try that.”

“No, CJ, I’ve had another idea in mind…”

He jumped with so much energy that it shock CJ a little bit. He got closer and he gave him such a warm kiss in the cheek, making him blush, but it makes him wonder with such anxiety, what was the great news.

“Let’s go with the guys, let’s make the movie night!”

“At last! It was time!” one scream of jubilee came out of the cloud man, as they gave each other a little kiss in the mouth. They soon leave the apartment as they closed the door.

They soon remembered and they open it again, getting inside the apartment. CJ was the only one who recovered sense: ¡Wow, wow, wait! What are we doing? Margo, it’s 9 o’ clock! It’s not even night yet!

“Oh, yeah… hehe, you are right!”

Half an hour later and soon after Mordecai and Rigby ended breakfast and say goodbye to Eugene, a cellphone rang. The owner which was Mordecai, answer it.

“Hello?”

“Mordecai, it’s me… CJ! Are you free tonight?”

“Huh… what’s the ask for?”

“You won’t believe this! Margo said yes! He wants to go to the movie night! Is it going to happen!”

“Well…”

“I said if it’s going to happen!”

“Yes, yes! Dude, we can make it!”

“Perfect. I’m in the supermarket right now, Margo took a walk, you will see him tonight. Hand me over Rigby!”

“Huh… I’m not sure if you will like what I’m going to do now.” Said Mordecai to Rigby as he blocked the speaker of the phone and immediately hand it over: “It’s CJ” Rigby closed her eyes and took a deep sigh before taking the phone.

“CJ, what’s going on?”

“Rigby! Margo’s out of the bedroom and tonight we’ll go to the movie night! You better don’t do what you did last time, okay!?”

“Yes, CJ, I won’t do anything. I promise”

“You better be, Rigby! I don’t want to see you making stupid things again! You are on my sight!”

Rigby got annoyed for that rude comment about herself, such an attack on her person.

“CJ, listen…” before she could make her statement, Cloudy James had already end the call.

“UGH!” Rigby yelled and rise her face up to the sky, giving the phone to her best friend.

“That was weird, right? I don’t know what the hell it’s going on in that house but at this point, dude… I don’t want to know anything.” Rigby looked down the ground with closed arms, being feed by her own weakness.

“Well… Everything’s even and all it’s good, right?” Mordecai smiled very optimistic and friendly, but Rigby face her, still with crossed arms.

Mordecai kept insisting, forcing her big smile and making a frown, forcing Rigby to make an answer: “Riiiiiiight?”

Rigby kept quiet for a few seconds and suddenly, she shakes her head like a tambourine, indicating what Mordecai did not wanted it to her: No. He up her hands in signal of disapproval. “Mmmph, mmph!”

“Wooow, what? No… Why!? Why!?” Mordecai yelled.

“Mordecai….!” Rigby tried to explain. But Mordecai raise her finger right to her.

“No, Rigby, no! Don’t screw this up! Rigby, we’re so close! Why do you keep going with this?” Mordecai beg with his hands.

“CJ don’t learn, dude! It seems like he will annoy me about Margo forever. He’s going to bury his old cauliflower looking head over my neck to make me not tell any word about it, tonight! And if I don’t stop him, he will go after you and Eugene too!”

Mordecai whined a little growl and bury her hands over his face. “Okay… but don’t tell I did not warn you. Margo it’s too sensitive over that stuff, and see Rigby, people like him sometimes need that protection. Eugene and I used to deal more with him and we love him oh so much, that sometimes we need to protect him. But, I’ve never get that far with him. Good luck with the result!”

“I’m not the problem. If they’re looking for it, they will get it! Besides, nothing will happen until CJ will decide to keep his hands over me. I mean~ the problem, that’s it!

“Yeah, right… just help with the junk food and renting the films”

“Oh yeayuh~ I’ll follow you if you bring food~!” Rigby followed her path.

………………………………………………….

It was night at Pops’s house, movie night was happening.

Five individuals were seated on the floor as they served the first box of pizza they order. Around them, you could see popcorn, table games and even some beer cans and bottle of alcohol already consumed.

“Oh hell yeah, pizza!” Eugene yelled as pizza came by.

Margo was seated on the floor, tasting some of the pieces of pizza that they were so hot, they could steam, making them see much tastier. On his side, in a backwards sense of a clock, you could find: Eugene, Mordecai, Rigby and on his other side, CJ.

“Damn, where do you get these, girls?” said Margo.

“Villa Giulia, that’s one of the few local 100& Italian pizzerias. They’re homemade and they’re made by firewood” said Mordecai.

“You know, CJ? I guess you and I should ask for some, later.” Said Margo.

“Oh… you know we’ll get them” Margo and CJ smile at each other.

“Heh. We should recommend more places like that. We know a lot of local of every kind, because when we need to plan events for the park, we need a little helping hand sometimes, few experts on feasts.” Rigby said.

“Oh, oh~ could you give some contact cards? I think it could be awesome to ask for homemade food once in a while, don’t you think, CJ?” Margo looked with jubilee and excited as his feet were flying trying to talk and imagine one of those plates, above all, the taste of Italian cuisine and noodles of any kind and nationality, they were their favorites. Cloudy James looked surprised and answered immediately.

“Yeah, Margo… we’ll do it. We should change the subject, though; I want to see the movies already. I’ll tell Mordo about information, later.”

“Of course, CJ. Whatever’s up to you, guys, I’ll be always helping!” said Mordecai as he handle a whole slice of pizza to her beak. Her mouth were splat with sauce and cheese that couldn’t stick out of her face: “Huhuhuh I love pizza”

“Rigby, can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Sure, dude”

Before CJ could got up, Margo looked at him with happiness. CJ only gave him a pat on his back and walk to the kitchen, leaving Mordecai, Eugene and Margo together at the living room.

“Um, I will put the movie if you both don’t mind.” Eugene jumped directly to the screen.

“Mordo… now that we’re alone, I…”

“Ha, you will ask me something important or you will talk about that neat slice of pizza down here? ‘Cause I won’t let you take it!”

“Hahaha, no! I want to apologize personally for what I’ve been through the last couple of days” he then take a sip of his bottle of bear “I’ve abandon you all many time, but that will not happen again”.

“That’s cool, Margo! Tell me if that happens again, I wish that you would not bear with the same again.”

“I wish not, it was too hard though. Now, raise that can for me!”

“What, this one? But, that was Rigby’s been drinking.”

“Hahaha! Doesn’t matter… I’ll tell Eugene to give you a new one, a full one, I mean. I can’t take it for myself. Let’s do a toast for my curation!”

“Oh… yeah.”

Mordecai take that can and raise it to the air and the, Margo did the same with his bottle.

“For my good friend, Margo! For a healthy and happy relationship!”

“My friend Mordecai. Wish he will be… always, extraordinary!”

They clash their “glasses” and laugh about the impact. Mordecai’s hand was soaked in alcohol and proceed to clean it over his jeans. Margo kept drinking the whole bottle in one sip, until it was over.

“Huh… I’ll go see what’s going on with CJ” said Margo, before he took up.

On the side of the eating table, CJ was talking with Rigby:

What do you think you’re doing? Talking about food so casually now, Rigby?”

“Of course, I’m the Pizza Queen! Besides, CJ, what’s the matter?”

“Shut it! Margo didn’t get it in the beginning, but I see what you want to say! I won’t let you critize her way of eating!”

“Look, CJ… I swear it’s not what I wished for, ok? It’s a beautiful movie night, why don’t relax and eat some pizza before it gets cold? I only took part of serving the pizza, it was Mordecai’s idea to buy it!”

Of course, deliberately bringing the topic on the table by yourself, isn’t it?” Rigby took a long pause.

“I don’t know what you’ve been drinking the same as I do, but I hope it won’t harm your head, permanently!” she raised her finger, keeping her space, keeping him away  “I want the same happiness for both of you, such as we respect what Margo wants to do”

“Doesn’t look like it”

“Ha! Holy shit! Eugene warned me about this crap”

“You never did. I had to come to the Coffee Shop to force you to do it. It took you too long to follow me and then, you make everything possible to hurt Margo!”

“Oh, it’s so good you bring the topic again, because it doesn’t look like I haven’t make clear exactly how it happen”

“I don’t care, Rigby! I don’t care what you need to say if you hurt him with such rude comments! Be a good friend and leave that crap, okay? Or maybe you have something against him.”

“Me!? Please, I don’t have a problem. Maybe you should think if you don’t have something with me!”

Margo entered to the kitchen, looking for CJ.

“Oh, CJ~! The movie’s starting!”

“I’ve had enough problems to deal with beside you, you little rat! I won’t get tired telling you what because you don’t even listen in the first place!” CJ yelled at Rigby, without finding out Margo was already listening, pretty confused.

“Oh yeah? Like what? You haven’t do anything else to breath over my neck! Completely busy to worry about any other stuff! Crying like a baby every time I speak to Margo about he can eat more than a familiar size pizza!”

“Huh, guys?” Margo, heartbroken, only could hush, failing again in keeping the guys’ attention.

“Better shut your mouth, Rigby! See, that’s the bullshit behavior it makes act like you say!”

“Dude, why won’t you leave Margo to be honest to himself for one time? Accept what he’s doing instead of shutting up and swallow his guilt? Do we need to make the same crap every day? For what? Repeat it again when he fails and so we need to bear how he lock up to his bedroom once he gains weight again?

“Rigby! Stop!” Rigby could see him, but she did not care. CJ’s body was turning dark again.

“CJ!” Hearing that voice, they both immediately look. Margo was calling CJ to calm him down.

“It’s… it’s that what you think?” said Margo to CJ. James preferred to not answer, as she swallow saliva and then, he looked to Rigby.

“I hope you are happy!”

“CJ… look at me!” Margo tried to get closer, acting as a moderator: “Why you didn’t tell me that? You have a problem with Rigby?”

“Wow! What’s been taking so long!?” Suddenly, Mordecai entered, at the same time as Eugene. “Oh no” Mordecai whimpered right when he saw what he thought was going on.

“Well, dude… We’re fucked” Eugene said.

“I’m done, CJ. That’s enough! Listen, Margo, I apologize for the last time we met on the street the other day. If you believe I’ve been a drag all this time, that’s okay for me, I respect that. But you need to listen to me: this path of denial and false optimism you are taking, it will only make to swallow that guilt. You’ve been too depressed lately because you don’t find another way to face your weight gain! And that’s okay, but you should face the problem and accept it, you must talk about that with us! We worry about you and we want you to be happy, we do it for you, fuck’s sake! Mordecai and Eugene are too nice to tell you but we all think the same!”

“Is that true, Mordecai? Eugene?”

Mordecai nodded, felt with such shame. Eugene hide his hand behind his neck, constantly scratching as anxiety.

“And I won’t let CJ, even if he is the one you love, to silence me about it, because I know, this is important for you!”

Margo only looked down and cleaned his wetted eyes. He was almost on the verge of crying.

“Are you done, Rigby? Are you done ruining the night and hurting the person I love?” CJ said.

“I can’t tell if it’s the best, CJ. But sometimes you need to shake things up, facing them. That’s what I need to tell you!”

“I don’t care what you need to say! I don’t care if it’s “right”! I don’t give a damn what you think, Rigby! You don’t only bother to annoy him but even you manage to ruin this beautiful night! Do you have any fucking idea how selfish and hypocritical you act like when you talk about someone’s health!? Eating junk food as you fucking want, huh!? All this time you pretended being a friend, when really, you’re not most than a nasty annoying piece of garbage! It’s over; I won’t let Margo to suffer because a whore piece of shit will tell him how to live his life!”

A gasp of surprise came out of Mordecai mouth.

“Stop talking!” Rigby yelled at CJ, as he run with sadness to the stairs, trying to hide.

“Rigby, Rigby!” Mordecai tried to channel his best friend, to console her.

One arm stood to stop her, making Mordecai to not follow Rigby. “Mordecai, I’ll go see her.”

Mordecai look him at his eyes, with bare tears flowing over his round cheek. His look expresses calm, liberated at last, with conscious back on track and with such a voice it transmits security. Instantly, the blue jay, stop trying.

Following this, Margo took upstairs.

CJ and Mordecai watch how he took every step, cautiously.

“Wow, Rigby has really did it, this time! I told her, again and again and she never listened!”

“Could you please stop?”

“Why? You know, Mordecai, that I’m right!”

“Even if you are, I won’t be your trash can to receive all your complaints, CJ. All this time, Rigby tried to make something good and you did not do nothing else than reduce her and humiliate her. I promise to respect Margo as many times you’ve asked for it, but I will tell you something you are failing to do and I need to remind you again. This is my house and my friend’s as well! And you’re none than guests! So, from now, you will respect her, because if you mess with her, you will mess with me! Leave. Rigby. Alone!”

Words made their effect, CJ gaze for a moment on the ground as he recall what he had done, look back to Mordecai, taking his time and bringing him, the right.

“You are right… I apologize for that, Mordecai. I, didn’t want to say all that, but, it hurts seeing Margo like that.”

“Like everybody here, dude. Do you forget that Rigby was part of this too? You won’t even remember that you compromise their best friends with this conflict, it will only matter for them to make their paces, like It should be done since the beginning.”

In the roof, Rigby stare at the green grass, how it fades away in the dark, loosely attached to the weak horizon was painted by electric light. Remembered with sadness, anything what happen just a few moments ago and sigh as anything shameful come to her head, aching herself for what she has done.

Suddenly, a few steps and a very large figure interrupt his thinking, making her look quick: “Rigby?” Rigby started looking back to the ground.

“Rigby, I’m so sorry. You need to forgive CJ when she acts like that. He doesn’t really mean it when he said those things.”

“Still fucking hurts, man.” Rigby answered very weakly, as she tries to gain composure making a nervous laugh when she confesses it. “That guy roasted my ass in front of everybody” she said, to the point she even shakes in anger when she said it: “It’s not a big deal, but… I guess in some point I should deserve it”.

“Don’t say that, you know it’s not true!” Margo tried to get close to her, keeping him away from the window: “Rigby, you defend your point till the end. Even, you make me change my mind about it, because I know, very deeply, that you’re right. So many days alone in my apartment without seeing my friends, that is wasted time, you know! Rigby, I needed that last talk we had! But, I don’t think you are 100% honest with me. You won’t even had said everything you have in mind, yet!”

Rigby said to Margo: “I can’t simply apologize to you and CJ. I can’t believe how Mordecai and Eugene accept so easily this stuff but when it’s about me, I can’t even shake the comments I receive, every day. I’m not being honest, Margo, I’m jealous! I’m furious because I need to accept everyday how people can call me a fat whore or that I am a sexy bitch! That I could look if I lose weight or that I already see better looking so dumb thick! I’m not going to accept anything from that guy, Margo! I can’t let him to talk about my body like that!”

He cross his arms over his bust and his tail twirl over her legs and her hips, looking shameful to the sky, being embarrassed of her figure.

Margo sighed: “Well, at least we are talking about it. I don’t anyone who is trying to act tough or superior making me convince about something, but now, I can see each other like two equal persons, speaking honestly and with respect, one fear after another.”

“I also think you have been a pretty huge asshole for hiding under your bed because you’ve gained weight”

“Alright, touché. Finally I listen the truth. Rigby, the world it’s already complicated to deal with this, we don’t need that kind of crap between us, even I want to share that I too receive those comments all the time and it hurts so much that what people expect from me, it’s never the same they see with both of their eyes. I get around people, frequently, and I see with pity how as days turns by and I notice how always they force themselves to feel bad about me, how they spend their time as a tragedy and how they must keep in that way to feel sympathy about it, pretending everything’s okay and that my weight it’s not such a matter. Even I know they knew but they simply don’t want to tell me that! They want me to grow up and that I need to spend the rest of the day smiling and that I swallow my own sadness! Why the hell, Mordecai, Eugene and CJ had to lie to me in such way, why do they have to be like this!?

Margo couldn’t help to weep and finally, as flesh, wound recently exposed, pain was flowing from the core of his pain, it run through his face, in the form of a trail of tears. Rigby looked with shame as she was astonished by the intensity of his speech, through the emotion she felt as she saw Margo breaking in tears after finally revealing his anger, her eyes started to way after see him.

Quickly look to the floor to try and connect with his friend, broken in tears.

“Because they love you, Margo! They want to protect you and to be happy with yourself! Even they wish that much more than I could even do it!”

Margo looked at Rigby, a shady figure which was fading because the constant wetting of his pupils. Margo then gasped an ache of angst and pain.

“I’ve never liked you! I hated you since you met Mordecai and I hated you as you gain his trust and friendship! And now I can’t even bear CJ as since you are together! But I know you like Mordecai and Eugene it’s your best friend! I won’t let this friendship to die because I’m only mad and that I am such a piece of garbage and that I am such a fat crybaby!

“Rigby…” Margo covered her in his arms giving him a strong hug, reducing her pain and calming her by his conflicted conscious, Rigby was shaken by the quick and warm affect which she means a lot to her “you’ve gained my respect as someone I can completely trust! Just like any of us! Sometimes, if words don’t work, we must just hug it out to calm such violence”.

Rigby looked at Margo and closed her eyes, without helping to say something: “So? Is this what we are doing, now? This hug is really happening?”

“Yes. This hug it’s already happening and I won’t stop until you get proud to be yourself” Tears flowed finally through Rigby’s face, in a little range. Rigby then, quickly clean her eyes with her hand.

“Stop it~ you can leave now. Keep your hands out me! Don’t be gay!”

“Perfect, Rigby. Come on down, we need to end the night”.

“Sure, with all this noise? You won’t think we need to be cautious”

“When does that stops you anyway, Rigby?” Margo smiled at him, very witty, as Rigby couldn’t help return it him leaving a little laugh.

“Ha! Look at yourself! I won’t ever apologize for what I’ve done!” Rigby raised her finger.

“I know. That’s why you are my friend.” Margo get inside the house by the window and Rigby quickly followed her.

Meanwhile, down there, Mordecai, CJ y Eugene walk silently waiting for the consequences of the talk, when suddenly, they listened right from the stairs how Margo walk down to there.

Margo runs to hug CJ, as he sighs with relief how great the young robin looked since he came upstairs:

“Margo!” his wording was interrupted as Margo run to hug him very passionate.

“Don’t worry CJ; I’m happy as I’ll ever be, we should keep with the movie night!”

“Sure, Margo, as you want” Margo then took his place in front of the screen.

But then, Rigby’s feet were seen for the guest downstairs, she silently stared at his friends reunited without looking to gaze upon CJ’s eyes, which he looked with fear waiting for the next reaction. Rigby looked at his eyes and CJ couldn’t help to start breaking in tears:

“Rigby… I… I’m sorry for what I tell you. I was very bad to you for offending you like that and-”

“Ugh! CJ, stop crying! We had enough tears to resolve the third world crisis!

Margo explode in laughter as CJ looked in confusion to his couple, Mordecai only smiled with pride for what was happening, CJ could not help to look at her as well. Only then, he could understand that the only think she could do, was to get closer and give her a strong hug.

“Thank you, Rigby” he confessed by hushing on her ear.

“There, there. You are forgiven.” Rigby make a hand sign; give a pat over his back. “Well… there’s more pizza left?”

“Like three boxes!” said Eugene pointing at the table.

“Go for them, young Roberts! Mister Smith, anything for the lady?”

“Bring soda”

“Make it two glasses. In the rocks.” CJ answered. They looked at each other and they smiled, as they both keep hugging each other.

“I’ll help with the drinks, dude, before we start to the screening” said Mordecai.

“Oh, yeayuh! Of course, pal!” said Rigby.

Eugene put the pizza in place and Rigby’s and Mordecai’s feet move right to the drinks and the cups, ¼ of the plastic content were filled with ice, just right before to start.

The sound of transmission starts to be heard over the TV after the snap of a button from the remote control. When the movie started, only the force of sound editing and the movie soundtrack was silenced by the strength and strike of the sizzle of a recent opened 3 liters bottle of soda.

“Fzzzzzzzz” was the sound it made, as the private screening of five friends was starting, inside the house, without knowing any problem from the exterior world, in a pretty tasty movie night.

[gudangfilmkorea-blog]

FABRICATED CITY | 2017 | 10.000IDR . Sinopsis : menceritakan seorang pemuda yang bernama Kwon Yoo (Ji Chang Wook) yang dalam dunia nyata ia hanyalah seorang pengangguran,namun di dunia maya ia merupakan sosok yang hebat. Dalam Sinopsis Film Febricated City, dalam dunia dunia game virtual ia adalah seorang pemimpin terbaik yang begitu hebat. Kwon Yoo kemudian dijebak untuk kasus pembunuhan. Dengan bantuan hacker Yeo Wool (Shim Eun Kyung) ia mencoba untuk mengungkap kebenaran dibalik kasus pembunuhan tersebut . #febricatedcity #filmkorea #korea #korean #koreanmovie

[sinopsiskdramaku-blog]

[K-Movie] Sinopsis Fabricated City

http://dlvr.it/N1kyjx