#he names his Penguin Bill

[mother-ofthe-universedraws]

Hey what if I just…

Something something Angy Theatre Kid x Mad Scientist.

Anyways, Happy Halloween! My favorite holiday deserves my favorite ships

[pogueswrld]

*•.¸♡ make up sex ♡¸.•*

pairing: fred weasley x fem!plus-sized!reader

summary: Freddie talks too much, and his girlfriend is exhausting all the ways she knows to shut him up. Softly, of course.

warnings: smut🦢!1!1!1!1! there's plot and fluff, and everyone's of age ofc, although it is hinted that reader is still in Hogwarts, kinda sub!Fred top!reader, like he's whining and panting and begging and shit (bites lip) ANYWAY, dick riding hehe, no usage of y/n.

note: it is 2:59 pm on a Friday, let's see how fast I write this shit. note 0.2: Okay so it's 5:54 pm on the same day, I think I'm done. This isn't edited, but it took me 3 hours to write 😁

He was still talking. Why, in the name of Merlin, was he still talking?

Dating Fed Weasley is fun, there's no denying that, but Good Heavens isn't that a boy a handful. Both literary and figurative. He's got a wide imagination, a never-squelching desire for knowledge, and a big heart. That is a dangerous combination for a somewhat intelligent and never-quiet man.

She's a saint, his girlfriend, and Ginny made a point to always express that to her. "How do you put up with that all the time?" Gesturing to Fred, who was using his hands in elaborate motions as he went on his fourth rant of the morning on the same subject to George. She'd only shrug, lips engulfing another spoonful of whatever ice cream the girls were sharing. "In one ear and out the other darling."

Not to say that she hates it, or that it bothers her- quite the opposite actually. Fred's excited and hyper personality is what made him so interesting to her, it was what drew her to him in the first place. She enjoys listening to him rant, even about the most random things -he stopped her the other day and explained in great detail how penguins mate and how once the female accepts the male's proposing gestures, they're together for life- and she adores it.

Yes, it sure can be a bit much at times, but she wouldn't change it for the world. Imagine loving a man who was as boring and dry as his older brother, Percy? She would have to jump out of Ginny's bedroom window!

Today was her first day back in the Burrow from Hogwarts for summer break, and she was exhausted, to say the least. She was up from dawn, finishing up the last bits of her packing before leaving for the train station with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. And because she's a good friend, she made sure each of her friends made it to their transportation safely before she and Ron were picked up by Fred and George.

In the car, Ron opened the untameable can of worms by mentioning Bill who was staying over at the Burrow for the summer as well, taking a couple of months' worth of vacation away from the dragons and such. That was the spark Fred needed to blast off into a hundred rants one after the other.

He spoke about seeing Bill again, which is understandable, he hasn't been home in years. He spoke about the dragons, which led to his excited mention of his favorites and how he's going to ask Bill how it was training them. Then he turned to Quidditch training, and even though both him and George had left Hogwarts a year or so ago, the both of them still found time to play the game as a side hobby. After that was all done, George gave her and Ron and update on the shop, and Fred went on and on about all kinds of new candies and flavors and combinations they were working on to add to the store by the beginning of next year.

She was understandably tired by the time the Burrow came into view. And as much as she adores her boyfriend, she needed him to shut the fuck up for twenty minutes. But he's so sweet, and his eyes light up when talking, and he gets this beautiful energy surrounding him when he does it that she doesn't have the nerve to ask him to be silent for a bit. So she excuses herself and tries to bury her body under the covers of his bed.

But he finds her there, and he reports to her that dinner is ready, and that Bill is here, and that she looks so gorgeous on his bed, and that there's a strange animal in the backyard, and that Ginny tried to curse the bathroom when he went in to use it, and that he doesn't understand why she'd do that, and that George is out in the garage, and that-

She jolts up on his bed, her eyes twitching as she stares at him. He looks so beautiful, but he's talking too damn much. She cups his face, and he goes silent and stares at her with wide eyes.

"Wha'?" He mumbled, his lips squished together as she squeezed his cheeks.

"You talk too much, ya' know that?" She said, her thumb slightly caressing the apples of his cheeks.

He opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water, and tilts his head ever so slightly. "Do' it bothe' yo'?"

She giggles breathlessly and lets go of his face before pressing her lips tightly against his. "Not all the time, but times like today..." She rests her forehead against his and sighs, "It can be a lot, and I need you to read the room and tone it down a little bit, d'ya think you can do that for me?"

He stares, something in his gaze changes, and he nods. "Of course, baby. Whateva' you want."

Great. Now she feels bad. She sighs and pushes past the blankets swallowing her to sit up on her knees. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and pulls him into a hug. "I love you, truly love you, and I don't mean to be mean to you, and you know I love it when you ramble, but I'm really overwhelmed today, darling. I'm sorry."

Fred wraps his arms around her waist in return, hugging her tightly. It's true that he can't always read the room, and now that he's no longer attending school he's got much more free time on his hands than he knows what to do with. It takes him a couple days to be able to read his girlfriend's body language like he used to once she's home from school, and he feels terrible that he was one of the reasons for making her feel so incredibly overwhelmed. He also feels slightly ashamed of his non-stop rambling all day.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, mumbling something into her skin that made her shiver and giggle away from him. "Stop," she breathes in a giggle, "It tickles."

He chuckles, his hands squeezing at the skin of her waist as he stares at her dreamily. "I said, I'm sorry I made you feel overwhelmed, I promise to try and do better."

She grins at him, so brilliantly, that he can't help but lean down and capture her lips in a soaring kiss. "I love you." He mumbles against her lips, and she smiles while trying to kiss him back. "C'mon now, love, let's go have dinner."

Her eyes darken; her pupils widen, and she smiles that mischievous grin that he adores so much, and he groans while throwing his head back. He knows exactly what is on her mind.

"I have a better idea." She whispers, giggling as she throws herself into his lap and kisses him with such force that she's pushing him down on his bed. He yelps, his hands traveling to the bed and her waist, holding on to her for stability. Bubbling heat travels across his body through her kiss, and he sighs when her cold fingertips trace down his arms, sending goosebumps across his body.

Her kisses transfer from his lips to the sides of his mouth, his cheeks, down his jawline, until she's pampering open-mouthed kisses across his neck like stardust.

He sighs, his eyes closed and his head thrown back on the pillow. "Please," He breathed, a low whine undertoning his voice. She shivers above him, her teeth grazing his skin in a teasing bite.

She's always hated the effect his voice has on her.

"Please what, darling?"

He whines. It's low, for her ears only, it's a barely-there breath, but his mouth is right next to her ear and she hears him loud and clear. Her panties dampen almost immediately.

"Please touch me," He whispers. His hands gripped tightly to her thighs. He knows better than to roam her body without permission. She pulls back slightly, blinking up at him with a soft smile and long lashes. "But I am touching you, Freddie."

He knows this game. This cruel, cruel game she adores to play. He whines in pretentious of hating his role, but his hips buck, and his cock twitches underneath the fabrics of his boxers and trousers.

He slowly traces one of his hands from her thighs to her palm before letting her fingers rest on his aching cock. He guides her hands to gently rub him through his clothes and he lets out a breath when her fingers squeeze around him. "Touch me there." He gasps.

She entertains him, allowing him to set the pace and buck into her hold. He releases deep breaths and low whines, stuttering moans every time she tightens her grip around him. She can feel herself getting wetter by the second, how his eyes are shut desperately, his teeth bite down on his bottom lip, and her name is gasped out of his throat with every other movement. It makes her feel powerful, it makes her entire being vibrate.

"That's enough." She mumbles, pulling her hand out of his grasp and bathing in his complaining whines as she pulls off her shirt. He blinks up at her, watching her boobs bounce in the push-up bra she's wearing before she unhooks it and slides it off her shoulders. He blinks again and swallows whatever drool and saliva has gathered in his mouth, causing his Adam's apple to pop along with the action. She smiles at the sight and quickly bends down to leave a swift kiss on it.

"Take off your shirt." She commands him, and he does so without hesitation, throwing the garment somewhere on the floor of the room he shares with his twin brother. He watches her hands intensely as she teases him by running her thumb on the inside of her trouser's elastic, before slowly pulling the item down and off. He groans at the sight of his favorite panties on her; a partially lacey red thong that settles up between her butt cheeks. She always told him how uncomfortable it made her, but the look on his face when he saw it on her made every second she spent wearing it worth it.

"You're trying to kill me, love?" He groans, daring himself to take a dangerous leap and push his thumb against the damp cloth, pushing down on where he knows her clit hides. He glances up at her, watching the way her lips part and her mouth hangs open at his action.

"And what am I to tell George when he asks? Death by a red thong?"

He grins up at her, picking up the speed at which he's rubbing on her bud of nerves. "Only if you're the one wearing it."

She shudders, forcefully holding herself back from grinding against his thumb. Instead, she grips his wrist and pushes it away from her. She hooks two fingers on each side of his trousers and boxers before meeting his eyes, watching as he licks his lips and nods before pulling the clothing items down his hips and legs.

His cock bounces out from underneath the fabric happily, it smacks against his lower abdomen and she giggles at the sight of precum beads rolling down his slit. He whines, throwing his arm on his face to cover the embarrassing blush that matched his hair color. "Don't laugh at me, why're you so mean to me today?"

Her giggle grows louder, and she leans down to push his arm off his face. "I never intend on being mean to you, my darling, you just bring it out of me. I'm sorry." She mumbles as she meets his gaze, her hand cupping one side of his face and he leans towards her touch. "Don't hide from me, yeah?"

He nods.

"Good boy."

He whines, his eyes squeeze shut and his jaw drops when her fingers wrap around him again, but her thumb is collecting his precum before spreading it down his length before she works a steady rhythm going up and down. His whines slowly turn into moans. His noises were so heavenly that she could swear her wetness was flowing through the fabric of her thong and onto the skin of her thighs.

She sees his muscles contracting and she stops, removing her hand from him altogether. He opens his eyes, blinking up at her in confusion as a noise of complaint slips out of his throat. But he swallows it back up when he sees her push her thong to the side and spread her folds before sitting on his length, and she grinds back and forth on him without actually allowing him access to her.

He groans, throwing his head back. She's coating him in her juices and there's a delicious squelching noise coming from between them and it's driving him insane. He sucks air into his lungs through clenched teeth and shudders when she allows a single moan to slip through her parted lips.

Suddenly, he's engulfed in her warmth and he hisses. His hands grip tightly to her thighs, hips, and any plump skin he can find. He squeezes her, hissing, and pants until he's sheathed completely inside of her. "Slow down," He gasps, "Slow- slow down, slow down, slow down." His voice turns from low breaths to almost high-pitched whines, and she leans down and captures his lips in a silencing kiss.

"Need you to lay here and keep your pretty mouth shut, darling, can you do that? Can you stay quiet for me so your family doesn't hear us fucking?" He whines, hips bucking into her warm cunt causing his eyes to roll to the back of his head as he nods mindlessly. "Yes, yes, yes. I'll be quiet. Fuck- please, baby, please fuck me."

She giggles at his desperate whines, and slowly rocks her hips back and forth, just enough movement to send pleasure jolts but not enough to get them going. She was testing the waters, trying to see how loud he could get without giving him much of anything.

Fred was losing his mind, he could feel her walls clamp down on him every time she moved back, and he could feel himself nudging against her feel-good spot every time she moved forward. Her wetness made a mess out of both of them, making it easy to slide into her and pick up the pace.

He arched his back slightly, just enough to hint at her to go faster. Because she was starting to feel frustrated, she obliged. She switched from grinding down on him to bouncing, her knees and hips working overtime to not make a noise every time her ass cheeks met his thighs.

She's now moaning, leaning down to muffle her noises by his neck or breathe them directly into his ear. Fred's eyes roll to the back of his head every time, and his hands grab onto the fat of her hips to help her.

"I-" She gasps, pushing herself upwards, clamping down on him tightly before forcing deep thrusts with her movement. "I'm gonna cum." She whimpers, and her legs begin to shake and fail her. Fred let out a loud breath that turned into a whimper before pushing himself up and, with a tight hold of her hips, forced her up and down his cock.

"Wa- wanna feel you. Wanna feel you gush around me. Give it to me, please." He whines, his words muffled into her temple, his eyes closed as her walls flutter around him, her body shivering against him and her lips part in long whines. One of his hands sneaked in between them, and his thumb drew quick circles around her clit, just enough to electrify her over the edge.

She freezes up, squeezes down on him and Fred is gone. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tightly down on him, the repeated squeeze of her walls stimulated him over the edge and they were shaking through their highs together. Her hands were buried in his hair, his hands holding onto her hips, while their lips interlocked in an overflowing kiss.

A few seconds later, their mouths parted as they gasped for air, holding onto one another as their highs dwindled. He traced random shapes on her bare back while she scratched at his scalp in a way she knew he loved.

He was the first to pull back, looking up at her with nothing but love and adoration. He tilts his head and grins, "Do you still want to go down for dinner?"

She laughs, heartily and loudly out of his arms and back onto the bed. "If you'll be going downstairs for a plate, get me one with you. There's no way I can look your mum in the eye after this."

[deconstructthesoup]

Personal Ranking of the Fantasy High Dads, From Worst to Best:

Angwyn Penguin Abernant: -100000/10. He's somehow both controlling and neglectful, elitist beyond belief, power-hungry and cruel, and doesn't see his daughters as anything other than tools and means to an end. Adaine killing him in one hit was one of the most satisfying moments in Dimension 20 history.

Mac Applebees: 0/10. He and Donna did clearly care about Kristen, but that was clearly conditional and all of those points are subtracted on account of him being racist and members of a conservative religious cult. And if Bucky is any indication, those parenting skills have not improved.

Bill Seacaster: 4.5/10. Absolute madlad? Yes. Chaotic king? Yes. A joy to witness whenever he appears? Yes. But despite the fact that he clearly loves Fabian, he piled on a lot of unreasonable expectations and didn't fully prepare him for the world... and he clearly had several bastard children who we know absolutely nothing about. He does get points for being totally cool with Fabian being a bard, though.

Arthur Aguefort: 5/10. Again, in the same realm as Bill---a chaotic madlad who's a joy to watch, but his parenting skills do leave something to be desired. He does get points for clearly caring deeply about his students and Ayda, as well as attempting to reconnect with her again, but he's got some ways to go.

Gorbag Last-Name-Unknown: 6/10. We don't know enough about him for me to give him a fair ranking, and he did become a dad at, like, fifteen. But it does mean a lot that he found Gorgug again and is clearly an active presence in his life.

Gorthalax The Insatiable: 7/10. Clearly a good dad to Fig, loves her like crazy, the chillest and nicest devil you'll ever meet. Does have a bad habit of getting trapped in rubies, but still. Great guy all around.

Pok Gukgak: 7.3/10. If he hadn't died before the show started, and if he'd gotten to be present in Riz's life, he'd get ranked higher due to us having more data. As it stands, though, he's a badass secret agent angel who supports and loves his son, and he even accepts Riz's sexuality, which is a win in my book.

Gilear Faeth: 7.9/10. Being a dad is literally the only thing he's actually good at, and it shows. Does get a point taken off for getting engaged and going on a cruise without telling Fig, but we'll find out more about that in a few days. There's probably an explanation.

Digby Thistlespring: 9/10. Loving, sweet, supportive, sex-positive---what's not to love about him, he's a great dad! Sure, he does do the parent thing of embarrassing Gorgug at times, and he and Wilma both clearly still need to work on understanding that their son needs to express his anger, but he does a great job.

Jawbone O'Shaugnessy: 11/10. My guy. He went from being a random NPC that Brennan named on the spot to being a central character in the whole damn narrative, and he shines. The fact that he's been through the ringer means that he gives out the best advice, and the man is one of the most supportive and caring dads in existence.

[siconetribal]

Put it on My Tab (18)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!reader

Warning:

Things as they should have been

A/N:

Thanks for patiently waiting! I had a safe and easy flight, but the jet lag was a real troublemaker. But now I'm back, less brain foggy and ready to type. Without further ado, here is the next part!

Please comment/like/reblog. If you’d like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know! I'd also greatly appreciate it if rebloggers remember to add the tags (or some at least).

As always, a huge thank you and shout out to @harlequin-hangout for the amazing banners you made for me.

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters.

Another day, another round of unreasonable customers not paying attention to the orders that are being called, and another coffee order from the caffeine fiend who has been showing up almost daily. The handsome young man caused quite the stir with the female employees, each rushing to be the one to take his order, only to be rejected. There was only one person he ordered from, and the one barista was Y/N. She did not know why or when this little routine started, but it was well known throughout the shifts. One customer came in on days only Y/N was in and only ever ordered from her. The idea would have been flattering if his level of consumption was not so concerning, and him obviously being younger than her and well off.

And he’s another Wayne. I think I’ve officially had it with Waynes. She let out a heavy sigh as she rang up her current customer. How long had it been since she last saw Jason? She wondered for the seventh time, looking at the digital date on the register. That awkwardly magical night to end it all was now two weeks behind her and not a single word from him. To be fair, I haven’t exactly reached out either, but what am I supposed to even say? I didn’t exactly ask him for pocket change, and he paid for dinner and made sure I was inside the building safe. Could he have just not been so great so that I could continue to hate him for some reason and move on with my life? It’s all his fault, clearly! She grabbed a cup, stuck on the label, and placed it in the queue before moving onto the next customer. 

Citlalli heard her sigh again and visibly frowned. The night Y/N came back with the money was a shock. The two of them stared at her phone and refreshed the app screen several times, expecting it to all vanish like it was some sort of glitch and error. Come the next day, it was still very much there, which meant they were now debt free. They refused to celebrate just yet. Y/N transferred the money to her bank, it cleared in a few days. Y/N called the hotel and paid the rest of the charges over the phone. The hotel register must have been ancient because it felt like forever until the little ding sounded to let everyone know the transaction was completed. A copy of the receipt was emailed and with that, it was done. Seeing the bill as paid in full was such a sight to behold that Citlalli even began to tear up. They were back to where they were before the coffee fiasco, which was far better than being behind. 

Everything was back to as it should be, or it should have been. Y/N was different. She was more relaxed now that she could drop a good number of shifts and others could cover, but there was a listlessness to her. Her motions were robotic, and she barely reacted to crazy customers who were prone to yelling or causing a scene. If anything, her lack of reaction made the tantrum thrower feel awkward, and they quietly just moved along. Maybe it was an adrenaline crash? A constant flight or fight mode was finally shut off and her body was simply trying to recover. The last time she had seen her like this was the time her cousin got them tangled with the Penguin. Citlalli was no better, the two did what needed to be done to keep the bills paid and their heads on their shoulders. 

“Oi, chica, I’ve been calling your name for the last ten minutes!” She snapped her fingers in front of Y/N’s face. “Are you going to give me an answer or what?!”

“Huh, sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” She jerked her head back as the sharp sound brought her senses back into focus. The long day of work had come to an end and neither of the two were on the night shift, so they returned home and began to relax and unwind. “Answer what?”

“Where did you get these and when were you going to tell me?!” She firmly tapped her finger on two identical rectangular pieces of paper that magically appeared on the coffee table. They were not just simple waxy slips, either. They were a nice weight that had a lovely deign with a date and time stamped on each with the name of an upcoming charity gala printed in cursive and the famous W logo of Wayne Enterprises Inc. 

“Ah, those, well, those came from Nightwing when he left me a tip. I don’t think he meant to give them? At least, that’s the only thing that makes sense. I’m sure Bruce Wayne meant for him to have them to attend. I just don’t know how to go about returning them. How does one call a nighttime vigilante without lighting up the sky with the Bat Signal?” She pointed out the issue she was in.

“Three weeks,” Citlalli scowled. “Nearly a month of holding onto these, and you never once thought to tell me?! They were just laying there on the kitchen floor near the trash! Were you going to throw them out?!” She shoved her face in front of Y/N’s, their noses mere inches from touching. 

“I wasn’t planning to throw them out, but like I said, there’s no way to return them!” Y/N moved her head back.

“¡Ay, ay, ay!” She stood back and hit the heel of her free palm into her forehead a few times. “We could use them! We could go! This could be how we celebrate finally being debt free!” Citlalli grabbed the two tickets and waved them at Y/N. “This is fate, it was meant to be! ¡Por Dios!” She once again dove into a flurry of Spanish as she paced up and down the small living room. From the way she waved her arms around, twirled, Y/N could only gather that the frenzied energy was excitement.

“Cici,” she firmly called out to her overly energized friend for the umpteenth time. “Don't you think these tickets are tracked? That Bruce Wayne would know which ticket is whose? So, when someone tries to use someone else's, they can cross-reference. And even if by some unknown luck, they let it slide, for whatever reason; and we take the leap and attend, we don't have anything to wear aside from old catering uniforms and whatever dresses we have for parties and dates. I’m not trying to be the buzzkill, but we’re not equipped for this.”

Citlalli looked between Y/N and the tickets several times before coming around the table and flopping down onto the couch with a heavy sigh of defeat. Y/N could only sadly smile at the scene. It hurt to burst the bubble, but it needed to be done. A somber silence filled the apartment, broken only by the noise from their neighbors or some troublemakers outside. They could officially forget about this and move on.

“My abuela can help us. She’s a great seamstress, and my tía Maribel and tía Estrella have their own boutique. It’s nowhere near Wayne level price tags, but they make good money and live in a safer city. They made my and all my cousins quinceañera dresses, too. I’m sure they can come up with something for this, or at least let us borrow two dresses for the evening.” Citlalli sat up and looked straight at Y/N.

“You’re really not going to let this go, huh?” Y/N could only sigh and shake her head. “The party is in two weeks. When will we have the time to go and try on dresses between work and my pending call to come into the precinct for a formal interview?”

“Mr. B owes us for covering all those shifts he had no one to cover for. He’ll be grateful we took off unpaid so he doesn't have to pay us as much overtime.” She rolled her eyes. “My family will even open the shop after hours just for us to look, we don't need to go during the work hours. We can buy roundtrip train tickets and spend the night there. We might not even have to call off work either, we can swap shifts with someone! This is perfect! Ok, that's what we’ll do! I'm going to go call my family and see what days are best!” Once again, Citlalli was off running and Y/N was left speechless and trying to figure out how they went from reason to a whole thought out plan.

You know what, why not? It doesn’t hurt to try. If she really wanted to go, I was going to suggest checking some consignment shops or thrift stores in the richer parts of the city. We can use that plan as backup, though. She gets to see her grandmother this way and I can say hi to her family as well. She smiled while watching Citlalli’s face light up while talking in Spanish to her family on the phone. Y/N was willing to deal with the Waynes if it meant her best friend would be happy. It’s the least I can do for all her family has done for me over the years, trouble aside.

It was done. There was nothing left to do and there was no reason to ever see her again unless he wanted to go get coffee. He was not against coffee, but he was not an addict like someone he knew. He glanced at the door as Tim walked in with a rather large cup. Jason frowned to himself, looking back down at his book, but his gaze quickly snapped back up to the third Robin. He knew that logo, it was the logo of the cafe Y/N worked at.

Why would he go all the way over there for a cup of coffee? Did he realize I kept going there for them? No, I only did that twice. He can’t have caught on to anything from just that no matter how smart he is. Maybe he liked it? It’s a popular place and he may have been scouting the area. He stared at the cup, almost glaring at it. Must be mice to not have a reason to go there and see her without a care in teh world.

“What?” Tim’s voice cut off his jealous thoughts. The second Wayne son raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re the one giving a death glare to my coffee, I think I have a right to know why.”

“I’m trying to figure out what number this one is for the day. Your coffee addiction is just starting to get concerning.” He retorted.

“I’m not a coffee ‘addict’,” Tim took a rather loud sip of his drink to punctuate his point. “I’m a caffeine-based life form and as such, I must honor the ways of my people.”“By drinking your three times your weight in coffee?” Jason snorted as he tried to stop from laughing. Caffeine-based life form? She’d get a kick out of that one. I wonder, has he met her? A sharp, stabbing pain suddenly pierced his chest.“Who am I to get between you and your crazy cult? Chug away,”  he slightly bowed his head in respect. Tim nodded in return and left the room. Jason gently rubbed the spot above his heart, frowning once more. Must be nice indeed.

Tag:��@vbecker10 @wordsfromshona @harlequin-hangout @harpy-space @tild3ath @gone-batty-fics @princessbl0ss0m @dakotali @antiquecultist

[ladylaviniya]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐧 — 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐡é 𝐛𝐮𝐭- 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐛𝐛 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐛𝐭, 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬?

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤!𝐎𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐛𝐛 𝐗 𝐅!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭, 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐃𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐄𝐚𝐭, 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐭-𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝟏 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐧, 𝐎𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭, 𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐩 (𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐠𝐞!!), 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐃𝐮𝐛𝐂𝐨𝐧, 𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐃𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐆𝐮𝐧 𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐂𝐨𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐂𝐨𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 *𝐍𝐨 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫*

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟔𝐤+

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭. 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥.

𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: “𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝” 𝐛𝐲 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎

𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐲 @dollywons

𝐆𝐢𝐟 𝐛𝐲 @nat111love

Mr Oswald Cobblepot wasn’t such a bad guy, at least that’s what you were told. He was the man who put the lights back on and supported the community with money and shelter because let me tell you, insurance ain’t no cheap fee in Gotham. 

He was often called The Penguin, which if somebody asked you, you’d find both cute but perhaps demeaning- yet Oswald wore the title like a badge of honour. Every waddling step he took with his solid black cane was made with pride, his chin held high and his chest puffed up.

He wasn’t a white trash bum, no, he was a boss, he was a businessman, he was a King with keys to the city of Gotham. 

He took down the Maronis, he took down the Falcones and sure enough he took down every greasy, greedy, lowlife slime ball who came around his turf trying to take what was his- what the people had given him. Respect. 

You see, what made this man so beloved wasn’t for the rumours of his ruthlessly cruel behaviour, it wasn’t for his money he graciously loaned to those in need- no, it was actually his kind and generous behaviour. He was a community man. He cared.

If you had a bill to pay, he paid it. If you’re out of cash and your kids are hungry, he’d bring you a box of food to last a month. If you were scared of some punks trying to vandalised your shop, boy-o did The Penguin handle it. He was even a little chummy with the police, often seen sharing a doughnut and coffee outside a cafe. And there weren’t no one filling the tithes basket like Oswald Cobblepot every Sunday Mass. 

He made sure the priest was happy, cops were happy and people were happy.

Everyone knew about the Iceberg Lounge, his most popular club, but since renovations, it got to be a little classier. It was the place to be of you wanted to listen to the finest swing and jazz. And you had heard strangers on the street gossip about how it sold the best rump steak. Steak? In this economy? 

He even knew your name. Your dad was a handyman, a plumber, locksmith, electrical guy, whatever really. Your dad was a hard worker and often was paid to do jobs for The Penguin. 

So yea, he knew your dad and came to know your name. It wasn’t a surprise when he would wink at you passing down the street with your book bag, sometimes you’d be seen running to catch the last bus of the day.

❆❆❆

The club felt quieter than usual, that’s how the Penguin knew it was daytime without checking his rolex; the usual staff were busy cleaning up shakers and glasses from the previous night’s shenanigans. As the bartenders busied themselves cleaning and tidying up in his wake, Oswald received a call from his trusted right-hand man, Iggy. It seemed that someone had racked up a hefty debt to him, a debt large enough to warrant Oswald’s immediate attention.

Oswald waddled out of the exclusive Iceberg Club with an air of confidence, his doors were lined by his awaiting men admiring his gleaming plum Maserati Quattroporte. He told them where to go. Who to shake down. 

The thugs headed off to do Oswald’s bidding, but before he followed, he took a moment to reflect on the task at hand. 

$100,000 he had loaned...and only $20,000 had come back to him. Normally he didn’t cover gambling debts too high risk in business, but hey he thought he could trust this man. He thought he could trust this working father, just trying to raise his kid, get her a good life. 

Oswald should’ve killed him and he would’ve done too if it weren’t for you. Sweet little princess that you were made him unbelievably charitable. Sadly a debts and debt and he couldn’t let the loss never be paid off. 

It was time to go chop some fingers, ears, mouths and noses. Deliver some punches and encourage a bit of violence.

He slid into the plush leather seat of his Maserati, his callous fingers wrapped around the steering wheel. He pulled out into the street, the purr of the car’s engine giving him a moment of peace to contemplate the road ahead. 

He came to a halt at the end of the road where his club was tucked away. On impulse, he turned his head to take a look at the young woman sitting at the bus stop. 

The sun hung high above the surrounding buildings, casting an orange glow across the cityscape. The evening air held the promise of a hot, sultry night.

The bus stop was a small, metal shelter, its exterior painted a faded red, and the paint chipping in several places. The roof was pitted and rusted, the windows were grime-covered, and the floor was littered with cigarette butts. There was a small bench inside the shelter. 

As his gaze took in the smooth curves of the womans legs, a rare moment of appreciation flickered on his face. Some black kitten heels were on those feet. White stockings. Oswald couldn’t believe it, what type of broad wore stockings on a stifling hot day like this?

His eyes widened in surprise as he recognized it was in fact you sitting there at the bus stop. He quickly rolled down the window and rested his elbow on the sill. A sly smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he regarded you.

“’That you, sweetheart?” he questioned, leaning further out of his car window.

You looked up with a totally surprised look on your face, your eyes meeting his. Your eyes widened as you recognized the car before the voice inside of it. The sight of you all alone at the bus stop made his blood heat up, and he bit his lip hard. There you were, looking so sweet with your book bag and a novel in your hands. Anyone could do anything to you, including him.

 “Hi Mister Cobb!” you chirped in greeting. 

He smiled.

He couldn’t help but consider how wicked he was to even entertain the idea of hurting someone as innocent and guileless as you. He was ashamed to be so perverted. What were you? Seventeen? Eighteen? Barely legal. Jail bait material.

He took a quick glance in his rear-view mirror, taking in the surroundings. It was daytime, and most people were likely hunkered down at their office jobs. But come the evening, the streets would be crawling with people eagerly queuing to gain entry to his club. For now, the coast was clear – no one was coming up behind him anytime soon.

He adjusted his dark ray bans and looked at you again, his hidden gaze lingered on your legs once more.

He asked, “Watcha doing out here, sweetheart?” he couldn’t believe he was seeing you of all people near his club, after all, didn’t you know this wasn’t a nice area? All types of bad people crawled these parts of town, he was included that crowd. The lenses of his shades masked the hunger and dark desire in his eyes looking over your legs and wide eyes.

You rotated your body towards him, but remained in your seated position. You pursed your lips, wasn’t it obvious? You glanced at the yellow station sign.

“I’m waiting for the bus, Mister Cobb,” you replied, crossing a knee over your thigh. Fuck he swore he saw your underwear under that shapeless skirt of yours. Your knees, Jesus, they deserved a good carpet burn.

He chuckled as he looked down at his rolex. 

“School finished an hour ago, didn’t it?” he questioned, curiosity and maybe being a little condescending. 

You smiled timidly at him, “I’m in college now, Mister Cobb,” you held up the large book bag at your feet. “And there are only two buses since the floods,” you added. 

Oswald’s gaze dropped to the book you were holding, then travelled back to your face. He wondered if you had been sitting there all day, waiting for the bus home. He took a few moments to study you further, admiring your youthful lips, imagining them around the tip of his cock for a moment.

‘C’mon baby doll, another load for daddy.’

Oswald couldn’t help but let out a small smirk as he heard those words. “College girl, huh?” He jerked a thumb towards the passenger side of his Maserati. “Well, c’mon, get in,” he ordered, “I’ll give you a ride home.”

“Oh, no, you really don’t have to do that,” you protested politely, but you began rising slowly, your fingers toying with the strap of your book bag. It would be wildly inappropriate to accept a ride from him. He was the Penguin.

He let out a sharp snicker, shaking his head in disbelief at her sweet rejection, “C’mon, sweetheart,” he coaxed, “Tell me, when does the next bus arrive?”  his rings flashed in the sweltering sunlight.

He watched you pull out a phone and check the time. If your dad was thousands in debt to him, he would’ve bought you a nice watch for Christmas. The cogs behind your eyes worked before you shared the time.

“About an hour,” you confessed.

The Penguin let out an exasperated sigh, “Yeah, you don’t wanna be sittin’ out in this heat for another hour, do ya?” he said, waving at the baking bus stop.  “It’s hotter than hell out there. Come on, hop on in hun, I’ve got the AC cranked up. You can sit up front with me. I’ll drop you off at home.”

You chewed on your lower lip nervously, clearly you were weiging your options. He grinned when you finally rose from the bench, sliding your book into your bag. You made your way around the car and opened the passenger door. 

He cranked the AC as high as it would go.

Once you slid into the leather seat, his gaze dropped down to the supple flesh of your thighs, his throat going dry in response. His throat bobbed, his hand clenched the stirring wheel. God help him if he got an erection. Not that it would bother him too much, but he needed to focus on the road and not on the vision of you fingering yourself on the passenger driver seat.

“Seatbelt kiddo, safety first.”

You smiled at him as you clicked the seatbelt buckle into place and surveyed the dashboard of his car with a sense of awe. The sun made it sparkle. 

 “Wow,” you murmured, your hand slowly moving forward to gently touch the smooth, supple leather. 

The Penguin let out a small chuckle at your fascination, enjoying the way your eyes lit up as you explored the plush interior of his Maserati. You were just another underprivileged girl, unexposed to the luxury of finer things. He knew your father kept you well away from The Penguins world— or else you would be already dancing in heels and a thong in the 44 below lounge beneath the club.

Maybe you could dance for daddy still. Maybe some private dances. Oh how cute you’d be in a white babydoll and some high heels that you would wobble in every step.

The Penguin’s voice broke your admiring reverie, and you looked up at him. “Now let’s get you home, yea?” he said.

Your hands folded on your lap delicately. You were a little lady, a real sweetheart, a princess. Nah, he wouldn’t make you dance.

He knew that the drive to your place would take only about twenty minutes, but he also knew that once you got home, things would go haywire. Taking one final glance at your exposed knees, he pulled back onto the road.

Your wide eyes fluttered slightly as you leaned back into the plush seats. He didn’t miss the chance of watching your knees part lightly. 

“Thank you Mister Cobb for driving me home,” you said with weariness in your soft voice, “It’s been a long day.”

Oswald hummed, “Oh, yea? Why so long?”

You looked down at your hands and fidgeted, nervously picking at your nails as you spoke. “Just anxious about the future, about the exams I’ll might be taking in the future,” you admitted, averting your gaze towards the passing landscape out the window. “I ain’t really in college but it was an orientation day today.”

Your neck and wrists caught his attention, and he couldn’t help but envision how easily he could wrap a hand around your throat. Imagining how easily he could hold both your hands above your head with just one of his own. 

“Nah,” he clicked his tongue, a smirk forming on his lips. “You ain’t got nothing to worry about, sweetheart,” He paused, “You’re a smart girl. You’ll make it.”

Your cheerful smile was greeted with a sly smirk from him. He noticed how well you responded to the praise. God he wish he could pull over down an alley street and turn you into his slut. 

“I’m starting college, If not in the spring, then I’ll start in the fall after summer break. In September.”

He responded with a simple, “Hey, that sounds alright, I didn’t go to college but I bet you’ll knock ‘em right outta the park.” before flicking on the blinker and merging onto the highway. His grip tightened around the gear stick as he skillfully switched gears, causing the car to accelerate at a rapid pace. “Why ugh, why the fall?” 

You cleared your throat, “Oh um-”

Oswald’s gaze shifted briefly in your direction as you spoke. 

You fidgeted nervously, gnawing gently on your lower lip, and explained, “I’ve almost gathered all the money I need. For a full-time enrolment, I still need a consigner, dad’s not willing— but I’m close to having enough saved up to cover a part-time year’s tuition. I can start work at The Corner Diner to make up the difference.”

Oswald’s eyes softened, warmth crept into his smile. He took in your fierce ambition, your unwavering determination to study and better yourself. He noted the spark in your eye, the fierce hunger to rise above and lift yourself out of this hell hole in downtown Gotham and create a new life for yourself.

“I believe you’re gonna go far sweetheart,” he said strongly, “You just gotta put your mind to it, know what you want and know what you’re willing to do and sacrifice to get there.”

In response, a shy smile curled on the corners of your lips as you gazed down at your hands, embarrassment tinged with pride.

Oswald’s gaze flickered over in your direction, memories flooding his mind unbidden. He envisioned the wide-eyed young girl who had once perched on a tall bar stool, sipping a milkshake through a straw, your chubby cheeks puffed up with curiosity and naivety while you asked where your dad had gone. Your dad had business with Carmine Falcone and had no choice but to take you to the Iceberg Lounge with him. You were what? Fourteen back then? He couldn’t remember if you had braces or not. But you’d complimented Oswald for the rosary he wore around his neck.

You still had that innocent look about you, except...a full figure, maybe a little taller, less acne. 

Oswald’s attention lingered on your legs for a brief moment before he returned his gaze to the road, downshifting and swiftly maneuvered the car behind a slower vehicle in the middle lane. He shifted two lanes to the left and gunned the engine, abruptly switching back into the fast lane. Glancing at the dashboard, he kept a watchful eye on the speed gauge, ensuring the speed remained below the legal limit of 90mph.

As the car barrelled down the road, he ventured a conversational question, his tone casual but with a hint of genuine interest. “Whatcha want to study, doll?”

Your cheeks felt unbelievably warm with embarrassment as you hesitantly shared your aspirations with the Penguin. “I’ll be starting with some general education classes, I think, like history, art, maybe writing,” you began, your voice trailing off somewhat. “I hope I do well enough to qualify for a scholarship. It’s my dream to join the journalist program,” you admitted sheepishly.

The Penguin’s lips twitched into a sly smile as he replied, his tone tinged with friendly encouragement. “You’d make a fantastic reporter,” he said. “But you’d best write only good things ‘bout me, ya?”

A soft, nervous giggle escaped your lips, and your hand instinctively travelled to the back of your neck. Your nose wrinkled in a cute, almost bashful fashion as you responded. “Of course,” you said, the words coming out a little more eagerly than you’d meant.

The Penguin took an exit off the highway, signalling with his blinker before turning. He turned to you, his tone both curious and engaging. “What made you choose writin’, doll?”

Your soft lips parted gently as you answered with full sincerely, “I want to write real news, say it how it really is,” you paused. “Sort of like what you do, Mister Cobb.” 

In that moment, you turned your gaze in his direction, and his eyes flicked over to meet yours through the dark tint of his glasses.

The Penguin’s knuckles turned bone-white against the leather of the steering wheel, his mind wandering into dangerous territory again. He mused on how easy it might be to seduce you, how much fun it could be to have you beneath him, moaning his name. You seemed to adore him, and he wondered how you’d react if he placed his hand upon your thigh and told you that you had grown into a bright, gorgeous young lady...how easy it would be to shove you into the backseat and hold you down.

He tried to push those images from his mind. He tried not to dwell. You were out of the question. Not because he had any actual ethical problem with engaging in a sexual relationship with inappropriately young women… but your dad was working for him and most importantly, you truly were an innocent. He reckoned you’d grow up and live a boring life— Marry a highschool sweetheart, raise some kids, join a Parents and Teachers Association group, grow old, bunch of grandkids.

If he tried anything with you, it wouldn’t surprise him if you started squealing bloody murder. 

“I’m impressed, you choose writin’ when you could be a news anchor if you wanted, sweetheart, the prettiest little weather girl of Gotham.” he commented. He turned down a narrow side street, the last vestiges of the setting sun bathing the world around him in twilight. The Penguin kept his sunglasses on, wanting to take one final, lingering look at your legs before you left out of his Maserati totally unmarred. 

“I doubt it,” you replied with a bit of sudden insecurity and self-deprecation. “I’ll be lucky if I’ll be able to even afford the tuition as a journalist let alone a news anchor.”

Oswald wondered if you were trying to ask for money...he would give it to you, but he’d fuck your tight little asshole first before giving out something like tuition money.

The Penguin pulled up in front of the apartment building where you resided with your father. As he parked the car, he was all too aware of the reason why you were pushing yourself so hard, studying until your eyes burned. He knew that you were striving to escape the cycle of struggling to make ends meet month after month. He knew this because, in a twisted twist of fate, he was your landlord, discreetly observing your life from the shadows, silently bearing witness to your efforts.

The Penguin pinned you down with a sly, knowing smile, his hand boldly ventures out and touched your cheek, his thumb rolled over the skin, skating just across your lip before digging into your chin, “You’ll get it, sweetheart,” he hummed, the words rolling off his tongue with blind confidence. 

You felt so small in his palm. The smell of his cologne must’ve been overpowering with how your nostrils flared a little. 

Your gaze rose to meet his, your big eyes fixed upon his face, searching for something, anything, to hold onto. As your lips parted in anticipation, the Penguin revelled in the way your eyes widened, taking in every expression that flickered across your face. It was almost tragic, how easily teenage hormones could control your heart...

The Penguin pushed up his raybans, observing you intently as you stumbled over your words. “Uh... thank you for the ride,” you managed to say, attempting to break away from the intensity of the moment. In your haste, you accidentally fumbled and dropped your book bag. 

The Penguin continued watching, a hint of amusement in his eyes as you knelt down to retrieve your belongings.

The books spilled out onto the floor, creating a small pile amidst the plush carpet of the car. The Penguin’s eyes tracked your movements with a growing smile, watching with a lazy, almost sadistic pleasure as you knelt down, gathering your books, pens, and crumpled receipts. Is this how you’d look on your knees, head bowed, ready to suck his cock? His sweet, innocent, little college girl? 

His smile suddenly froze on his lips as he caught sight of one of the books that had fallen over the cup holder, its cover facing up – the cover of a book on- no, surely not, surely not you. You couldn’t read that, could you? You wouldn’t read that type of thing, fuckin—

Oswald seized the book from your frantic grasp. You tried to reach out for it, but he swiftly jerked his hand away, a cruel smirk cemented on his lips. He relished the brief moment of control, holding the book just out of your reach. But eventually, you managed to grab it from him and shove it into your bookbag, your cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment.

Your voice trembled with anxiety, words tripping over each other in your attempt to explain, “It’s just... it’s...”

But the Penguin cut you off, his voice low and purring as he replied, “I know what it is.”

You looked up at him, your eyes wide and full of trust, just as they had been when you had first visited the Iceberg Lounge club, your lips parted ever so slightly.

It was the adult novel, ‘The Negatives of Shooting People.’ A cheesy pornography book about some journalist girl getting used like a ragdoll by a mafia leader.

Oswald could’ve laughed. Was this the real reason why you wanted to be a Journalist so bad?

“Please...it’s not mine,” you whispered, your voice trembling. Sweat trickled down your neck. “I’m just holding it for a friend...I promise.” Your eyes pleaded, hoping he’d believe your lie. “I don’t usually read that type of thing...” your voice choked, eyes welling up with tears. Shame truly flooded over you. “Please, Mister Cobb,” you implored, “You must believe me... I’m not...I’m not a...”

“A slut?” Oswald said as he let out a low chuckle, finishing your sentence. “Of course not, sweetheart,” his body shifted. 

He locked eyes with you, studying your face. Those big, innocent eyes. Those beautiful, trusting eyes. He pictured you, your sweet lips, just like your eyes, puffy. He imagined the tears flooding down your cheeks staining them with mascara, while his cock was pressing down the back of your throat and your backside marked with angry welts from a thorough belting.

The Penguin’s eyes flickered up to the apartment building, a pang of guilt gnawing at the back of his mind. A part of him wanted to tell you to wait in the car, to keep you away from the horror that potentially awaited you. But he knew it was too late. This was it. You were about to see the real side of him. 

The car drive home would be the last kind thing he’d ever do for you.

"Let me escort you upstairs," he grunted, turning off the ignition. "I’ve got business with your ol’ pops."

❆❆❆

As the Penguin got out of the car, you scrambled to follow, walking a few steps behind him as he waddled towards the buildings steps. You didn’t want to walk in his way, didn’t want to show that disrespect. You moved your book bag to your other arm.

“Please,” you begged him, “Please, Mister Cobb, don’t tell my dad about the book.”

The Penguin cast a sidelong glance at you, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, kid,” he chuckled, “Don’t you worry ‘bout it. You got a key?”

The short walk up to your apartment seemed to take forever. Every step into the building, into the foyer, and towards your apartment door was filled with a prickling tension and an underlying sense of dread. 

As you fumbled with the keys, you could feel the Penguin’s gaze boring into the back of your head, his presence looming over you like a shadow. He was much taller, larger, and more imposing than you in every way, his scarred face making him look deadly, dangerous. But beneath the rough exterior, you knew he had been kind to you, warm and almost comforting. And yet, right now, he seemed like a shark, waiting to pounce and strike.

What surprised you was that your dad had never invited The Penguin over for dinner which you found had been customary in the neighbourhood. It was a bragging rights to invite The Penguin over and have that invitation accepted. 

Hell, even Mrs Occhipinti next door; old lady, cat addict— served The Penguin her famous linguine recipe she brought from the Old Country. 

But your dad? Not a fucking word. Not a damn desire to have his Boss and landlord over for a cup of wine, not a loaf of bread to break, not a cigarette to spare— nothing. 

Which you found incredibly odd. And he never wanted to talk about it either. Everytime you brought up the idea of making gnocchi for the notable man, your dad would tell you to not worry about it and to just keep your nose clean and your head down. 

Your dad made it clear from the day one, he didn’t want you to forever live here in Gotham, not in the Downtown at least. He wanted the best for you. Which is why he made damn well sure your grades were good and you studied hard. 

“You can make friends when you’re an adult, focus on your education.” Was his favourite quote. 

And boy, did you live by it. And it paid off. You were going to get a scholarship, a program that went towards kids that had been traumatised by the terrorist flash flooding incident. You were so excited! You would have the opportunity to go to Gotham University! 

You opened the apartment door and heard a loud humming moan come from inside.

“Dad?” You called out, “Mister Cobb is here for you.”

You jumped as a loud crash echoed from outside, followed by the sharp sound of shattering glass. A shiver coursed through you as the low chuckles of nearby men filled the air, a malevolent sound that sent a chill down your spine. A sense of dread coiled in your stomach, and your skin erupted in a sea of goosebumps. Every instinct within you screamed that something was wrong.

As the Penguin moved up behind you, you felt his stomach brush against your back, his large body pushing you deeper into the apartment. You reasoned with yourself that it was just the television, that maybe your father had dozed off watching a comedy show and tripped, causing something to break. You tried to shake off the unease that clutched at your stomach.

You didn’t have to walk long until you saw the chaos of your home. 

The kitchen cabinets were open, the contents of broken glasses and dishes strewn across the countertops. Curtains had been totally torn from their rods. The living room furniture was all askew, the chairs and sofas overturned, and bookshelf empty of all the contents smashed and scattered across the floor. Picture frames were broken, glass spread out like sharp glitter thrown across the rugs. The whole apartment looked like it had been thoroughly ransacked and violated.

And in the center of it all? Your father on a chair, red stained rag in mouth, tied up with rope. His face was a bruised and bloody mess, his right eye swollen shut from whatever besting he’d endured. Over six different men, all dressed in black, stood around the chaos that was your home. 

“Oh god,” You cried out, “Dad!”

Before you could rush forward to help, two arms snaked around your body, their grip tight and cruel. Oswald jerked you backwards into his chest, the sharp movement forced you to flail and gasp in surprise.

“Woah there, sweetheart!” cackled Oswald. 

Fresh tears stung your eyes, as a lump began to build in your throat. You didn’t understand why Oswald was holding you back from going to your father’s aid. You tried to twist and struggle against his firm grip, your feet thrashing behind you in a desperate attempt to break free.

“Let me go!” you yelled, your voice breaking into a sob. “He’s hurt!”

He ignore how you flailed and scratched at his arms. He lifted you back and off the ground for a moment before throwing you into the arms of three men.

“Let go of me! Let go of m—” a hand clamped hard down over your mouth. 

You fought like a wild animal, kicking and scratching at everyone within reach, unable to tear your eyes away from the horrifying sight of Oswald, who was panting now, a sly smile playing on his lips as he looked from you to your father.

“Fuck me, she’s got some fight in her, boys,” he chuckled, his voice was filled with a purely cold and sinister glee. “Who would’ve thought she could pack such a punch?”

The men around you erupted in a chorus of mocking laughter, their voices made your heart sink. The sound of your father’s tears filled the air, a pitiful sound that echoed the despair you felt. 

You were led to an empty chair, forced to sit down as one of the men’s large hands clamped down on your shoulders, holding you in place. The Penguin paced back and forth across the room, his footsteps heavy and measured, his presence imposing. They didn’t tie you up, but the weight of their hands on your shoulders was enough to keep you from making any sudden moves. Someone behind you grabbed at your hair and pulled your head back. 

“Schools in session kids,” Oswald hummed, glancing your way before glaring at your father, “If the Penguin loans Pops one hundred thousand dollars and Pops only pays twenty thousand dollars back, how much does Pop owe the Penguin?”

Your eyes darted between your father and the Penguin, desperate to make sense of the situation. The amount he mentioned was staggering, and you couldn’t imagine your father ever borrowing that much money. But he remained silent, his moans and whimpers the only sounds that escaped his gagged mouth.

Your stomach lurched, and a whimper escaped your lips as fresh tears streamed down your cheeks. Frantically, you shook your head in denial.

“Pl-” you gulped, your wobbling lip tried again, “Please,” you whispered in a trembling voice, “p-please, Mister Cobb.”

Oswald pulled a gun from a holster inside his jacket, the black metal gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. He checked the bullets with an expert hand before turning back to you, turning the safety off.

“C’mon sweetheart, use that noggin of yours,” Oswald grunted, “How much does he owe me?” 

Your whole body trembled uncontrollably, and you feared you might even soil yourself from sheer terror. With a trembling voice and a sharp intake of breath, you choked out your answer.

“E-eight—” you stuttered, your voice breaking as a hiccup escaped your lips, “Eighty thousand?”

A harsh laugh burst from his lips as he confirmed your answer. “That’s right baby doll, eighty fucking thousand,” Oswald repeated, his voice rising with anger. He rounded on your father, his voice becoming a sharp, booming bark.

“Where the fuck is it!?” he thundered, spitting with rage, “Where’s my goddamn money, huh!?”

Your father's face jerked to the side as Oswald struck him, the force of the blow sending his head jolting to one side. The Penguin turned back to you, his hand on his chest as he continued speaking.

“I'm guessing pops didn't tell you he was borrowing big bucks from the big man, to cover his Gambling debts, huh?” his scared lip curled back showing off his gold tooth, “Here you were tellin’ me 'bout you wantin' to start college and here I was thinkin’ gee what a nice pop, bankrollin' tuition fees. but then you said you couldn't afford it. What a piece of shit father you got here kid.”

There was a sharp and loud click as the safety was pulled back, before the cold tip of the gun barrel pressed against your father’s blood covered temple. Your father began to sob and the front of his trousers grew a large wet patch, the scent of urine filled your nostrils. You felt sick watching the whole thing.

“Where. Is. My. Money!!?” he roared, his eyes were wide and wild.

“Please no! No! God!” You squealed and scratched the hands that were holding you back in your chair. You twisted and wailed, “Mercy! Please!” You coughed, snot dripping down your lips and chin, “Oh fuck! Please god!”

With a burst of energy and adrenaline, you managed to wriggle out of the hands of the gang members, but as you fell to your knees, you grabbed at Oswald’s trousers and shoes, your fingers desperately clawing at the fabric. 

“Don’t kill him!” you pleaded, your voice choked with tears, “Please! I’ll do anything! Please, I’m begging you! Please!” You buried your face into his knee, your wet face soaking into his expensive trousers. 

A heavy hand came to rest on top of your head, patting you gently as you leaned, trembling against his leg and wept. You heard the softest shushing sounds, from the man with the deadly firearm held in his other hand.

"Anything?" he whispered softly with a curious and considerate edge, though the threat in his hand remained ever-present.

Your hands trembled uncontrollably as you looked back up at Oswald, your fingers gripping the fabric of his trousers tightly. Your father’s eyes widened in terror as he desperately shook his head from side to side, his weak struggles against the bindings doing little to loosen them. He protested loudly against the gag in his mouth, whimpering and grunting in fear.

The penguin rolled his eyes, “She’s doing you a solid,’ Oswald barked at your father, “should be grateful.” His gaze snapped back down at your wet blinking orbs, “How are you gonna pay what he owes me?” he looked honestly interested in what you were offering, he smiled even.

Your tongue flicked out to wet your dry bottom lip. “I’ll—I’ll work at the lounge,” you stammered, “I’ll pick up babysitting.” The words came stumbling out of your mouth, your mind racing as you desperately tried to find some way to satisfy the demands of the mobster. “I won’t go to college, just give me time!”  You prayed he would offer some leniency.

The Penguin’s scoff was cold and dismissive. “Your pops has had a year, honey,” he retorted, “You wouldn’t be able to make that much bussing tables and waitressing let alone playing nurse maid.”

His words stung, and you felt a sharp pang of helplessness. He was right. There was no way you could make that much money to pay off your father’s debt.

Your hands clasped together, your shoulders drooped, you felt just how you looked, pathetic and small, “Please, please Mister Cobb.”

As he twirled his gun idly in his hand, the mobster hummed, “You wanna help your pops? You wanna pay off his debt?” he tilted your chin up with the tip of his gun. The safety was still off.

“Yes, hm,” you whimpered, “yes, Mister Cobb.”

He withdrew his pistol, setting it aside, and now cradled your face in his large, warm hand. His voice was gentle as he inquired, “Be honest with me Doll, did you read that book?” 

Your breath hitched in your chest as you realized he was referring to that smutty book, the one that had caused so much upheaval and embarrassment before you’d come inside to this horror.

Your face crumbled as you choked out your answer, a single syllable word. “Yes.” You wouldn’t dare lie to the Penguin. Not now.

The sinister smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth made your stomach churn. His reaction seemed almost gleeful as if he was secretly pleased by your admission. Extending his hand towards you, he quietly encouraged you to take it.

Your legs trembled weakly as you slowly stood He pulled you into his side, and your body was pressed close against his, intimate and too close for comfort.  He groaned happily, “Alright then, give me a kiss.”

You gulped hard as you tried to steel yourself, desperately holding back the well of tears that threatened to spill over again. He wanted a kiss from you, just a simple little kiss, it wasn’t that hard. You pressed your lips to his cheek. You shuddered and then pressed your mouth to the corner of his. He groaned and squeezed at your waist. Your fingers trembled violently as they gripped his lapels, your breath coming in short, shaking gasps.

“Good enough,” he groaned, “Now say goodbye to your Pops. You’re gonna come with me and you can see him once the debts been paid.”

Your father went back to fighting his binds, hollering behind the gag. He pleaded that the penguin would not take you. 

Your mind raced, filled with a library of questions about your impending fate: If you accompanied the Penguin, would you ever get to see your father again? What exactly would you be expected to do to pay off his debt? What could the Penguin possibly want from you? Where would you even stay, how would you survive?

The panic rose in your chest, and your voice trembled as you asked, “How long will that be?”

Oswald pinched your chin and pressed his nose against yours, “Depends on you, doll face,” he drawled, “I reckon a good six months to a year should be enough.”

Your chest felt tight, your heart clenching in sadness, as you whispered, “Oh.” Oswald allowed you to pull away and step over to your father. You gently cradled his bruised and bleeding face in your hands, tears streaming down your own cheeks.

“I lo-love you, dad.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, “Please, I’m sorry.” Your father cried into your palms, his sobs choking out through the gag.

Squeezing your eyes shut, your mind struggled to take in the gravity of what was happening as fear bubbled inside of your stomach. You felt a thick, black bag being dragged over your head, the rough cloth pressing against your face and blocking out what little light had been left in the room.

To be continued...

  𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒:

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

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[sunshinerainbowpuppy1224]

stardew valley fave animal HCs ^0^

i've wanted to post this for a bit!!!!!! i thought of em all >:3 !! PLEASE NOTE NONE OF THIS IS CANON -- ALL OF THESE ARE HEADCANONS I THOUGHT UP !! ALL FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES TO LEARN AND KNOW MORE ANIMAL SPECIES THAT MIGHT BE GOING EXTINCT !!! GIANT NERD ALERT !! ` ------------------------------------------------------ Leah fox, specifically Red Fox (Cross Pelt; AKA Cross Fox) and Painted Dogs. Enjoys the Art side of their pelts and adores how they blend in. In her own words, "The art of Nature is within the Fur of the owner" (extra: hognose snake, chameleon) Abigail Mongolian wildcat, panther. Enjoys the cute side of cats as well as the hardcore style of them as well (hence the panther), totally has a panther tattoo somewhere (extra: Bombay cat, silver-pelted red-fox) Emily Aye-aye, monkeys. LOVES little baby monkeys, goes onto rants how she would make dresses for them like the ones on the internet. finds the Aye-aye to be misunderstood-- their cute yet creepy faces making her lil heart melt. no one understands why she likes them so much (extra: rainbow trout) Haley Tigers (White pelt). Firm believer of the "big cat bigger heart". Adores how gorgeous they are, how shiny the pelts look. Though a large lover of all tiger pelts, the black stripes against white fur struck her interest more (extra: leopard, painted dog) Maru Dolphin, Otters (River). really enjoys sea animals, but yet loves smart animals. She believes that they're misunderstood creatures, defending them with all her heart (extra: emperor penguin) Penny Giraffe, Bear (Kodiak breed). LOVES how beautiful they are, yet they keep to themselves. She isn't loud about her love of these animals but yet shares if mentioned (She's usually called a mama bear by the children of Pelican town) (extra: Harp seal) ------------------------------------------- Harvey Whale (Blue whale), Bernese mountain dog. When he was young he owned a Bernese Mountain dog-- Often talks about her when dogs are the topic. "She was the sweetest thing" he often states. Whales are his weird enjoyment, does A LOT of research on them & goes whale watching at the beach. Watched a film where they were flying overhead the main characters like airplanes!! loved them ever since (extra: Holland lop, African bush elephant, glass toad) Elliott (OTHER THEN LOBSTERS I SEE UR REPLIES FROM THE FUTURE) Amur Leopard, Vaquita . enjoys how gorgeous these animals are, the big doe eyes of these creatures giving him a little dopamine. Gets fairly upset once he learned the extinction of the Vaquita (extra: khaki Campbell duck ) Alex Ploughshare Tortoise, Golden retriever. Has had a little tortoise since he was young, he named him "Junior" but spelt it like "joonyer". Alex is very on that "Golden retriever boyfriend" trend and tries his best to be that

(extra: fried egg jellyfish, dik-dik) Shane (OTHER THEN CHICKENS) Hirola (Antelope) and Ant eater (southern tamandua). Finds them so weird, yet finds them so lonely. Finds himself looking into the eyes of Prey and relating so harshly. (extra: hereford cow, tamworth pig) Sebastian (OTHER THEN FROGS. GRRR) Ili Pika , deer ( Axis breed ). Adores cute little animals that own the biggest eyes, yet chose these little critters. Looks up pictures of them and cries (extra: slow loris , axolotl) Sam pangolin ( Philippine breed ) , Bush Dog . Found out about Pangolins through Pokemon, fell in love and looked into Pangolins more. Bush dogs are like little bear cubs to him-- yet has been attacked by one before. Does NOT care though finds them so cute

(extra: sugar glider, duck-billed platypus) ----------------------------------------------------------------- YAYYYYYAYAYAYYYY U GOT TO THE END YAYY

[spacedace]

hey in your tags you mentioned a “batfam leverage au” can u explain what that is

Happily! :D

So I'm not sure if you're familiar with the show Leverage, but the quick summary is that it's about a group of "bad guys" (a hacker, a hitter, a grifter, a theif and the mastermind that directs them all) that help people who have been hurt by the rich and powerful by using their skills to pull heists and cons on the bad guy of the episode to ruin them and get back whatever was taken/right whatever was made wrong.

It's an amazing show that I can't recommend enough, very clever, very funny, big found family vibes and an OT3 that's *this close* to being canon (and has been supported by the writers). The heists are amazing and it's all around an AMAZING show.

Anyway, the BatPham Leverage Au is basically just: a collection of DP & BatFam members join together to make a robin hood heist team like in the show Leverage. I have a couple versions of the BatPham Leverage AU rattling around my head, but most fleshed out right now are:

Business of Family - the Uncle Oz AU (Penguin Adopts Jazz & Danny): My plan for this story is for Jazz and Danny to decide to start running heists in Gotham on the people in the city that tend to fly under Batman's radar but who are still very much doing a lot of harm to the city and it's people. The Leverage AU part of this story is going to have Jazz as the Mastermind, Jason as the Hitter, Tim as the Hacker, Danny as the Thief/Maker (basically engineer), and Elle as the Grifter (shapeshifting Elle for the win lol).

Another Leverage AU I've been thinking about for awhile but that I haven't turned into a story yet is one where Team Phantom (Danny, Jazz, Sam, Tucker & Elle) are tasked with finding and returning various Infinite Realm artifacts that have ended up in the mortal world. And for some reason Gotham has just so many Infinite Realm artifacts in it. Like most of the artifacts in the world are in Gotham for some wild reason (it's Gotham there doens't need to be more of a reason).

They're on the run from the GIW/Fentons, so they're trying not to advertise any ghostly/liminal powers if they can help it, so they largely do heists without powers (minus Tucker doing all his hacking and everything from the Ghost Zone and some occasional invisibility/intangibility when it's called for, but they really do try and keep any power use to a minimum).

In this AU, Jazz is the Mastermind (again, because I love that role for her haha), Tucker is the Hacker, but that's when I can't quite decide who should be who.

I love the idea of Sam being a Hitter, but I think she'd be able to play Grifter pretty well knowing the rich as well as she does, Danny would love being a Hitter and being able to fuck some assholes' shit up while being completely feral but he could also still be a good Thief. Elle could go either Grifter again, but I like her as a Theif in this one, maybe running into Damian in the vents while she's trying to get into a vault or something lol. (I think it'd go with Danny: Hitter, Sam: Grifter, Elle: Thief, but I have no idea if that'll stick if/when I ever write this lol)

Whatever the team looks like, because there are so many artifacts in Gotham & because they can't just use their powers willy-nilly to grab them and run, they're going to be in Gotham for a long time, possibly years. Which means they need some kind of side hustle to pay the bills, which leads them to doing more heists, but this time on various rich assholes that deserve to lose a bunch of money.

Eventually they get on the Bats radar, and there'd be some fun cat & mouse back and forth with the BatFam trying to catch the Phantom Crew (Danny shouldn't be allowed to name things, but he already told Red Robin that was their team name before anyone could stop him). Eventually the GIW do show up and things start getting even more complicated (and maybe someone activates an artifact, resulting in a powerful entity being released in Gotham that they all have to team up to fight).

I have no name for this au other than the DP X DC Leverage Au, but I do know that'll have plenty of Anger Management, Brain Dead (or really Brain Dead + Everlasting Trio, don't know what the ship name for that is), Serious Chaos.

It'll also have Batman aggressively trying to adopt them all because he doesn't actually have anything against them stealing from these assholes as long as they don't hurt anyone. They're acting outside of the law yes but they're doing it in order to give justice to those who have been made victims by the system and he's all about that (the real final battle of the story is between Bruce & Selina who both want to adopt the Pham, who would like to know if they get a say in any of this - they don't).

[kstarlitchaotics]

Bill Finger’s Batman Universe - Born on February 8, 1914, Bill Finger began writing comic strips in the same studio as artist Bob Kane in 1938. After National Allied Publications (Now DC) approached Kane to create a hero just as popular as their newest star, Superman, Kane conceived the idea for a character called “The Bat-Man", Finger was brought in to ghost write on the project. Not only did Bill Finger do major design changes to Kane's original vision of the Bat-Man, such as changing the red and yellow color scheme to blue and grey, the domino mask to a cowl, the stiff bat wings to a flowing cape, but he also made ‘the Bat-Man’ a scientific detective (inspired by figures like Douglas Fairbanks and Sherlock Holmes), even adding gloves to the vigilante's ensemble. Those elements and Finger's brilliant stories mixed with Kane's superhero vigilante persona refined the character as the dark icon of the DC Universe to Superman's bright image, and the Bat-Man was launched in Detective Comics #27 on March 30, 1939.

Bill Finger's contributions surpassed creating Batman; Finger is credited for bringing to life iconic pieces of the Dark Knight’s mythology such as the Batmobile, the Batcave, and naming Batman's home 'Gotham City'. Bill Finger also co-created many classic DC characters such as Robin, the Boy Wonder, Green Lantern, WildCat, The Joker and Catwoman (with Kane and Jerry Robinson), The Riddler (with Dick Sprang) and The Penguin. Finger passed away on January 18, 1974 and in his honor, Comic-Con International established in 2005 the Bill Finger Award for Excellence in Comic Book Writing. Due to Bob Kane's contract with National Publications back in 1939 stating he was the sole creator of 'the Bat-Man', for 75 years Bill Finger was not credited with the creation of the Caped Crusader or anything within Batman’s mythos he helped create. It wasn't until September 2015 when DC Entertainment announced Finger would begin to see credit for Batman, beginning with projects such as FOX's "Gotham" and Zack Snyder's 2016 DCEU film "Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice", along with various comic books. We thank Bill Finger for being one of the most important figures in all of Batman’s iconic history, because we as fans wouldn’t be able to celebrate the many interpretations of the Dark Knight in and outside of comics without Finger’s genius of helping bring to life the Batman and his universe.🦇📚 #Batman85 #LongLiveTheBat

🖼️: A look at many of Bill Finger’s co-creations within the Batman universe.

[gilverrwrites]

Match-up for @madamemurphyslaw Request Info || Prompts || Masterlist || Ko-Fi

I ship you with: BTAS Penguin

Ozzie needs someone he can have a genuine, 2 sided connect with. Someone he can shower with all his tales of grandeur, but also someone he can confide in. A long courtship is ideal for him, I’m imagining lots of ‘traditional’ style dates, nice dinners, afternoon tea, strolls through the park, where you can spend time learning every little detail about each other – don’t worry, if you’re feeling shy/quiet, he will do all the talking.  

You share a love for dapper, vintage clothing (albeit different decades – but he’s adaptable), and I know he would just love arranging matching outfits for you both if you’re down. You would easily bond over your mutual appreciations for classical music, and historical documentaries.

Tropes:

You: Where are you going? Penguin: To buy us ice cream, or commit a felony, I’ll decide on the way.

-♥-

Penguin: I left a little love note for you on the coffee table. You: This is 10 pages long???

-♥-

You: Oz, come look at this. Someone stole a bunch of penguins from the zoo last night. Penguin: Goodness gracious, who would do something like that? *muffled penguin noises* You: Penguin: You: You: You did not!

Headcanons:

I hope you’re open for pet-names because he’s a sucker for them; Dove, My Love, Sweetheart.

 If not splitting the bill makes you uncomfortable then he’ll be fine with it, but his endgame is to spoil you rotten.

I hope you like birds (and animals in general) cause he has a lot of them and he will introduce you to them all. Will want your input when naming new ones.

Playlist:

Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy Queen

At My Back Madds Buckley

The Way I Am Ingrid Michaelson

[richincolor]

New Releases

All of these books look interesting to me. I don't even know which book I want to add to my TBR reading list first. 

Gita Desai Is Not Here to Shut Up by Sonia Patel Penguin/Nancy Paulsen Books

It’s eighteen-year-old Gita Desai’s first year at Stanford University, and it’s a miracle she’s here and not already married off by her traditional Gujarati parents. She’s determined to death-grip her good-girl, model-student rep all the way to medical school, which means no social life or standing out in any way. Should be easy: If there’s one thing she’s learned from her family it’s how to chup-re—to “shut up,” fade into the background.

But when childhood memories of her aunt’s desertion and her then-uncle’s best friend resurface, Gita ditches the books night after night in favor of partying and hooking up with strangers. Still, nothing can stop the nagging voice in her head that’s growing louder and louder, insisting something’s wrong… and the only way she can burst forward is to stop shutting-up about the past.

Click below to read about all of this week's new releases.

Ida, in Love and in Trouble by Veronica Chambers Little, Brown Books for Young Readers

Before she became a warrior, Ida B. Wells was an incomparable flirt with a quick wit and a dream of becoming a renowned writer. The first child of newly freed parents who thrived in a community that pulsated with hope and possibility after the Civil War, Ida had a big heart, big ambitions, and even bigger questions: How to be a good big sister when her beloved parents perish in a yellow fever epidemic? How to launch her career as a teacher? How to make and keep friends in a society that seems to have no place for a woman who speaks her own mind? And – always top of mind for Ida – how to find a love that will let her be the woman she dreams of becoming?

Ahead of her time by decades, Ida B. Wells pioneered the field of investigative journalism with her powerful reporting on violence against African Americans. Her name became synonymous with courage and an unflinching demand for racial and gender equality. But there were so many facets to Ida Bell and critically acclaimed writer Veronica Chamber unspools her full and colorful life as Ida comes of age in the rapidly changing South, filled with lavish society dances and parties, swoon-worthy gentleman callers, and a world ripe for the taking.

Till the Last Beat of My Heart by Louangie Bou-Montes HarperCollins

When you grow up in a funeral home, death is just another part of life. But for sixteen-year-old Jaxon Santiago-Noble, it’s also part of his family’s legacy. Most dead bodies in the town of Jacob’s Barrow wind up at Jaxon’s house; his mom is the local mortician, after all. He doesn’t usually pay them much mind, but when Christian Reyes is brought in after a car accident, Jaxon’s world is turned upside down.

There are a lot of things Jaxon wishes he could have said to his once best friend and first crush. When he accidentally resurrects Christian, Jaxon might finally have that chance. But the more he learns about his newfound necromancy, the more he grasps that Christian’s running on borrowed time—and it’s almost out.

As he navigates dark, mysterious magics and family secrets, Jaxon realizes that stepping into an inherited power may also mean opening up old family wounds if he wants to keep the boy he may be falling for alive for good.

The Rez Doctor written by Gitz Crazyboy & illustrated by Veronika Barinova HighWater Press

Young Ryan Fox gets good grades, but he’s not sure what he wants to be when he grows up. It isn’t until he meets a Blackfoot doctor during a school assembly that he starts to dream big.

However, becoming a doctor isn’t easy. University takes Ryan away from his family and the Siksikaitsitapi community, and without their support, he begins to struggle. Faced with more stress than he’s ever experienced, he turns to partying. Distracted from his responsibilities, his grades start to slip. His bills pile up. Getting into med school feels impossible. And now his beloved uncle is in jail. Can Ryan regain his footing to walk the path he saw so clearly as a boy?

Desert Echoes by Abdi Nazemian HarperCollins

From Abdi Nazemian, the award-winning author of Like a Love Story and Only This Beautiful Moment, comes a suspenseful contemporary YA novel about loss and love.

Fifteen-year-old Kam is head over heels for Ash, the boy who swept him off his feet. But his family and best friend, Bodie, are worried. Something seems off about Ash. He also has a habit of disappearing, at times for days. When Ash asks Kam to join him on a trip to Joshua Tree, the two of them walk off into the sunset . . . but only Kam returns.

Two years later, Kam is still left with a hole in his heart and too many unanswered questions. So it feels like fate when a school trip takes him back to Joshua Tree. On the trip, Kam wants to find closure about what happened to Ash but instead finds himself in danger of facing a similar fate. In the desert, Kam must reckon with the truth of his past relationship—and the possibility of opening himself up to love once again.

Desert Echoes is a propulsive, moving story about human resilience and connection.

Between the Pipes Story by Albert McLeod with Elaine Mordoch and Sonya Ballantyne (Contributor) & illustrated by Alice RL HighWater Press

Thirteen-year-old Chase’s life and identity should be simple. He’s the goalie for his hockey team, the Eagles. He’s a friend to Kevin and Jade. He’s Kookum’s youngest grandchild. He’s a boy. He should like girls.

But it’s not that simple. Chase doesn’t like girls the way that the other boys do. It’s scary being so different from his peers. Scarier still is the feeling that his teammates can tell who he is—and that they hate him for it. If he pretends hard enough, maybe he can hide the truth.

Real strength and change can’t come from a place of shame. Chase’s dreams are troubled by visions of a bear spirit, and the more he tries to hide, the more everything falls apart. With the help of an Elder, and a Two-Spirit mentor, can Chase find the strength to be proud of who he is?

“Between the Pipes” explores toxic masculinity in hockey through the experiences of an Indigenous teen.

They Thought They Buried Us by NoNieqa Ramos Carolrhoda Lab

Horror fan and aspiring film director Yuiza gets a scholarship to a prestigious boarding school. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

As one of the few students of color at Our Lady of Perpetual Mercy, Yuiza immediately feels out of place. A brutal work-study schedule makes it impossible to keep up with the actual classes. Every expense, from textbooks to laundry, puts Yuiza into debt. And the behavior of students and faculty is… unsettling.

Yuiza starts having disturbing dreams about the school’s past and discovers clues about the fate of other scholarship students. It’ll take all Yuiza’s knowledge of the horror genre to escape from Our Lady’s grasp.

How to Lose a Best Friend by Jordan K. Casomar MTV Books

For as long as anyone can remember, Zeke Ladoja and Imogen Parker have been best friends. Their classmates, their parents, and even the school custodian think that they’re meant to be together. And that’s exactly what Zeke wants: for Gen to be his girlfriend. Now that she’s about to be sixteen (and allowed to date), Zeke is finally going to tell her how he feels—in front of everyone at her birthday party.

Imogen loves Zeke with all her heart, but only as a friend. The pressure to be with Zeke has sometimes been overwhelming, but up to this point, she’s been able to manage it. Then she falls for the new boy, Trevor Cook, and she knows the news will devastate Zeke. The last thing she wants to do is hurt her best friend, but she also resents the fact that no one seems to care about what she wants.

The night of Gen’s party, everything goes wrong. There’s backlash, most of it directed at Gen, and Zeke feels emboldened. He isn’t about to give up on his feelings, and he’ll do whatever it takes to prove that she made the wrong choice…even if it means destroying their friendship. But Gen isn’t about to give up on fighting for herself and the freedom to love the boy she wants, not the boy she’s expected to be with.

[vikenticomeshome]

Cyberchase - The "What's Hacker's Secret?" content (part 2)

Alright, let's try this again. Here is the second part of the content that was promoting the "Transformatron" arc. We can see an issue of Cyberspace News here. The main story is Buzz and Delete being interviewed about Hacker's upcoming plans. They know nothing. We knew this already.

I'm going to transcribe the interview in full.

What's Hacker's Secret? Sam Vander Rom's EXCLUSIVE Interview with Buzz & Delete

Sam: Buzz and Delete, you're the Hacker's henchmen. His simpering sidekicks. How come you're talking to me?

Delete: Well, the boss isn't talking to us much these days. We're lonely.

Buzz: Yeah, he's always shut up in his secret lab. ays we can't come in. That we'll ruin everything.

Sam: Maybe you guys should talk to that Cybertv talk show host Dr. Bill. He's good at helping people.

Delete: We should do that, Buzzy!

Buzz: Yeah, maybe we should, Dee-dee.

Sam: So what do you think Hacker's doing in his secret lab?

Delete: I think maybe he's making something.

Sam: Like what?

Buzz: Maybe a machine. He's always hammering and it sounds like he's putting stuff together.

Sam: Interesting. A new Hacker contraption.

Delete: Remember, Buzzy, how he got so excited when he found all those tiny bits of paper? He made me go get some tape. Then he taped them all together.

Buzz: Yeah, that's right, Dee-dee. The paper had a picture of a big machine. Like they were plans or something.

Sam: What does this new machine do?

Delete: Maybe it makes donuts, Buzzy! You'd like that.

Buzz: I dunno. I think it's more important-like. The boss is a pretty smart borg. I bet it'll do something no one's seen before.

Delete: We better not say anymore. The boss might get mad!

Sam: You heard it here first, folks. The Hacker's up to no good! This reporter fears we'll see a new Hack Attack very soon! The interview with Buzz and Delete ends

I think The Hacker would have been okay with this interview. Buzz and Delete really just served to hype up his latest invention, while giving no useful information about how to stop it.

Anyway, I'll transcribe Erica Ram's piece about Slider and his missing dad.

Personal & Up Close by Erica Ram

Heartbreak Kid

There is no sadder story in Cyberspace than the tale of a teenborg from Radopolis named Slider. His father, the brilliant and talented Coop, was forced to flee his home years ago after a disagreement with who else - that old meanie Hacker. Coop hasn't been seen or heard from since, but we have it on good authority that young Slider is still looking for his dad. "If anyone can find him, it's Slider," said our source. When reached at his garage for comment, Slider said, "I'll find my dad some day, and that's a promise!" Good luck, Slider! We're all rooting for you!

Erica Ram's article ends

I would have used a stronger term than "meanie", given that The Hacker forced Coop to abandon his son. I'm still surprised that Cyberchase went that hard back then.

Anyway, I figure I should transcribe the other articles as well as the in-universe advertisements.

Penguin Hockey Hoopla

By Olli

Penguin hockey season is about to begin! Hockey hopefuls have been lining up at try-outs all across Cyberia. In Penguia, Coach Bluewing says he's happy to have Flash back for another season. "She's got the best aim in Cyberspace," he said. A bright young fan named Fluff said he wanted to play penguin hockey because "it's the best sport ever!"

The hockey article ends

Health Watch for Borgs & Bots By Dr. Marbles

Borgs & bots are warned that there have been many reports of late about magnetite. This mineral is very dangerous and can have strange and unpredictable effects. Everyone gets different glitches. Some borgs and bots lose their memory. Others break out in spots like chicken pox. I have even heard it can make you grow old or give you big feet. Everyone is urged to proceed with caution around magnetite.

The Health Watch article ends

Spoilers, magnetite exposure caused Coop to age into an old man, though he is able to be put back to normal with the cure. I really need to do a separate post about Coop's long exile. Magnetite causes Slider's feet to grow to a massive size, which is great for The Hacker, as it stops Slider from being able to lift his foot to kick his ass.

I'll transcribe the four in-universe ads at the bottom.

Ad #1

Special Cryoxide Sale Today!

Buy a case, get 1 can free!

Call Mr. Cryoxide

Ad #2

Ms. Fileshare is pleased to announce that Chef Digit Le Boid will be at the Cybrary tomorrow to sign copies of his new cookbook, Chef Digit Le Boid's Party Planner.

Coming soon

Manny the Medium reads from his new book Mysteries of the Manatee.

Ad #3

Aquari-Yum Picnic

All are welcome to the Prince's Picnic in Aquari-Yum next Saturday. It will take place on Hot Dog Hill. Cybersquad superstars Matt, Jackie and Inez are expected to attend, said Stringie, close friend to the Crab Prince.

Ad #4

Wanted: 1 bunny

I will love him and keep him and call him George.

Signed, Delete.

And that's all for the ads.

I like what they did here. It covers all of the important points for the series of episodes in this arc, and it doesn't spoil anything. We just get hints.

We're going back to Penguia for hockey tryouts

The Hacker is building some grand machine in his secret lab

Buzz and Delete are going to be on Dr. Bill due to The Hacker not having any time for them

Cryoxide is going to factor in again

We're heading back to Aquari-yum to meet the Crab Prince

The magnetite is going to come back in style

We're going to meet Slider's missing dad

[icedbatik]

Penguins to retire Jaromir Jagr’s No. 68 during pre-game ceremony on Feb. 18

By Pittsburgh Penguins

November 10, 2023

The Pittsburgh Penguins will raise two-time Stanley Cup Champion Jaromir Jagr’s no. 68 jersey to the rafters at PPG Paints Arena on February 18 versus the Los Angeles Kings as part of a pre-game celebration, it was announced today by the club.

As part of the ‘Celebrate 68’ festivities, all fans in attendance that night will receive a replica Jagr No. 68 banner. In addition, a commemorative Jagr bobblehead has been added as a giveaway to all fans in attendance on Thursday, March 14 versus the San Jose Sharks.

Jagr, whose NHL career spanned over two decades, is one of the most accomplished players in NHL history and a member of the league’s ‘100 Greatest Players.’ In 1,733 career regular-season games, the 6-foot-3, 230-pound winger scored 766 goals, 1,155 assists and 1,921 points. He ranks fourth all-time in games played and goals, fifth in assists, and only Wayne Gretzky (2,857) has recorded more points than him. No player in NHL history has more game-winning goals than Jagr’s 135.

Drafted by Pittsburgh in the first round (5th overall) of the 1990 NHL Draft, Jagr spent the first 11 seasons of his 24-year NHL career with the Penguins, appearing in 806 regular-season games notching 439 goals, 640 assists, 1,079 points, 78 game-winning goals and was plus-208. He is in the top-5 in franchise history in games played (5th), goals (4th), assists (4th), points (4th), plus/minus (2nd) and game-winning goals (4th). He was one of 13 captains in team history, serving in the role from 1998-01. 

Jagr was an instrumental piece of Pittsburgh’s back-to-back Stanley Cup Championships in 1991 and ’92 – his first two seasons in the NHL. In that two-year span, Jagr suited up for 45 postseason contests, notching 37 points (14G-23A), which was sixth in the NHL over that stretch. Jagr shined during the 1992 Stanley Cup playoffs, recording a playoff career-high 24 points (11G-13A) in 21 games. In total, Jagr has dressed in 208 Stanley Cup Playoff contests, accumulating 201 points (78G-123A). He is one of just six players in NHL history with 200 or more playoff points. 

The 10-time NHL All-Star has won a plethora of awards over the course of his NHL career. He is a five-time Art Ross Trophy winner (NHL Scoring Leader – 1995, ’98, ’99, ‘00, ’01), three-time Ted Lindsay Award winner (Most Outstanding Player – 1999, ’00, ’06), and was the recipient of the Hart Trophy (NHL MVP) in 1998-99 and Bill Masterton Trophy (Perseverance, Sportsmanship, and Dedication to Ice Hockey) in 2015-16. Jagr was named to the NHL’s First All-Star Team seven times (1995, ’96, ’98, ’99, ’00, ’01, ’06), the Second All-Star Team in 1996-97 and was a member of the All-Rookie Team in 1990-91.

Throughout NHL history, only Chris Chelios (26), Gordie Howe (26) and Mark Messier (25) have played more seasons in the NHL than Jagr’s 24. Of his 24 seasons, he notched 20-plus goals 19 times and 30-plus goals 15 times, which both rank third in league history. He’s also hit the 100-point plateau five times, and was the sixth-oldest player in NHL history to accomplish that feat during the 2005-06 season at 34 years and 31 days old.

The native of Kladno, Czechia has multiple accolades on the international stage. He’s won a gold medal (1998) and bronze medal (2006) at the Olympic Games, two gold medals (2005, ’10) and two bronze medals (1990, 2011) at the IIHF World Championship and a bronze medal at the 1990 IIHF World Junior Championship. Jagr is one of just 30 players in history to join the Triple Gold Club, which includes winning a Stanley Cup, an Olympic gold medal and an IIHF World Championship gold medal. He and Jiri Slegr are the only two players of Czech descent to accomplish this feat. 

Jagr currently owns Rytiri Kladno of the Czech Extraliga and has been majority owner of the team since 2011-12.

[jillyb2004]

Hey!! have you ever shipped a crosship rarepair from 2 different fandoms? my favourites are Rectangular Businessman (12 oz mouse) X Magic Myc (inside job) X Bill Cipher (gravity falls) and Pyronica from gravity falls x Man woman from 12 oz mouse !!!

Yeah I have actually! In fact I now have 3 CrackShips that I’m absolutely proud of…

The first one I made was Tattoo from The Secret Life of Pets and Short Fuse from The Penguins of Madagascar Movie

The Second one was Cape from Cats and Peachtopia aka Cats 2018 and Loki from Total Drama’s Ridonculous Race that was so batshit crazy that it will be the most out of the 3 to unlikely ever become canon

My newest addition to my CrackShip line up is Mr.Boss from Smiling Friends and Deputy Denny from Squidbillies

If I were to rank all of my CrackShips based on how their relationship would last and their likely chances of ever becoming canon in a potential crossover, I would put it like this…

#1. Mr.Boss x Deputy Denny since they are both owned by Adult Swim and Warner Bros respectively and although they would have a poor start with Mr.Boss being a wealthy businessman who has psychological issues but is very kindhearted and Deputy Denny being a stick in the mud and a literal man child, but overall they do manage to make their relationship seem comprehensive and even got married at one point while having Lucy The Daughter of The Devil be there surrogate mother for their baby daughter Janice (who is an oc I’ll potentially make in the future) and become one big happy family

#2. Tattoo and Short Fuse since Short Fuse is a reliable member of The North Wind and what if he saved Tattoo’s life at one point or another and it just worked out over time?! Tattoo is a shy awkward pig who is very fun once you get to know him and Short Fuse is a wildcard but can also have his arrogant moments but manages to tone it down in front of Tattoo so that he wouldn’t end up scaring him away and ruining his reputation in The North Wind organization. Plus the other members of The North Wind are very inflamed (especially Classified) about the fact that Short Fuse is dating a pig that he saved one time and still kept him around for so long! Short Fuse ended up quitting his job at The North Wind later on to focus more on his love life and his future family of 3 adopted kids named Sparkle (an elephant seal), Ricky (a naked mole rat) and Corky (an axolotl) after getting marrying Tattoo shortly after leaving which is why his old pals who worked at The North Wind betrayed him and never bothered showing up to his wedding since deep down inside, Short Fuse really misses them

Now he has new friends to hang out with called

LugNutz (an elephant) BBQ (a porcupine) and Quaff (an ostrich) that him and Tattoo often go to a bar in time square New York

(Yay More Oc’s to make in the future!😊 Great…😒)

#3. Cape and Loki since Cape is 3d and Loki is 2d, their possibilities of being canon are just nonexistent since Cape is from a movie made from China and Loki is from a show made in Canada and since Cape is too lighthearted and optimistic for Loki’s aggressive and outrageous attitude, it’s pretty clear that they might never last a long term relationship

So that’s all you need to know and if there’s any more CrackShips I might come up with in the future, I’ll be sure to let u guys know!

Anyways stay safe out there and have a good rest of your day!

[cobblepotindustries]

(( As it's his birthday, I get to introduce you all to my favorite bit of unsubstantiated but teasingly possible Penguin information. Bob Kane and Bill Finger co-created the character, and both have their own stories as to what inspired the design. Bill Finger, long uncredited for his role in early Batman comics, said he was "inspired by emperor penguins, who reminded him of stuffy English gentlemen in tuxedos. The resulting caricature of an aristocratic type included a top hat, a monocle, a cigarette holder, and a umbrella." Kane, though? He said there was a specific inspiration, more than just a send up of the stuffy rich. He said it was "the little penguin who appeared in print to advertise Kool menthol cigarettes and also hawked them on the radio with his insistent falsetto slogan, “Smoke Kooools!"

His name is Willie, and while his design changed significantly over the decades he was in use, I'm most curious about the incarnation that dominated from approximately 1935 to 1940.

...That's rather similar isn't it.

We'll never be sure, though I personally think it was a bit of both, but it's one of my favorite facts. Happy birthday to the worlds best cigarette mascot/pastiche of the ruling class. ))

[sonofjeddah]

Why Bill Finger and Michael Uslan Deserve Stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame

When I first heard the news that Batman had become the first superhero to receive a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, I felt a surge of pride. I’ve been a die-hard Batman fan for as long as I can remember, and seeing the Caped Crusader finally honored in this way was a moment of pure validation for all of us who’ve grown up idolizing him.

But as quickly as that pride swelled, something else crept in—a nagging sense that something was missing, or rather, someone was missing. And not just someone, but two people.

Batman’s star is set to be placed between Bob Kane, the man long credited as Batman’s creator, and Adam West, who became a cultural icon through his portrayal of Batman in the 1966 TV series. While these men certainly played pivotal roles in the character’s history, there’s an undeniable void that we, as fans and as people who care about the full story, need to address. Bill Finger, the co-creator who gave Batman his iconic look, and Michael Uslan, the man responsible for resurrecting Batman as a serious figure on the big screen, deserve stars on the Walk of Fame as well.

It’s time we make our voices heard. Let’s explore why Bill Finger and Michael Uslan must be honored on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, not just for their contributions to Batman, but for the cultural legacy they’ve left behind for all of us who’ve been shaped by their work.

The Forgotten Legacy of Bill Finger

If you’re a Batman fan, you probably already know that the story of Batman’s creation isn’t as straightforward as “Bob Kane created Batman.” In fact, the Batman that we know today—the brooding detective, dressed in a dark Bat-suit, patrolling Gotham City, and facing off against iconic villains like the Joker, the Penguin, and the Riddler—wouldn’t exist without Bill Finger.

Bob Kane originally envisioned Batman as something entirely different. Kane’s Batman wore red overalls, had a small mask, and didn’t quite carry the dark, mysterious aura that’s now synonymous with the character. It was Bill Finger who stepped in and redesigned the character, giving us the cape, the cowl, and the Bat’s silhouette that has become one of the most iconic symbols in pop culture history.

Beyond the suit, it was Finger who introduced Gotham City, a setting that’s as much a character in the Batman mythos as Bruce Wayne himself. He also helped create the tragic backstory that drives Batman—the murder of Bruce Wayne’s parents in Crime Alley, which ultimately turned him into the Dark Knight, sworn to protect the innocent.

And let’s not forget the villains. Bill Finger was integral in shaping Batman’s rogues' gallery. Without him, we wouldn’t have the Joker, arguably the most famous comic book villain of all time. We wouldn’t have the Riddler, Catwoman, or Two-Face. Batman’s world, and by extension, our world, would be vastly different without Bill Finger.

But for decades, Bill Finger’s name was missing from the credits. Bob Kane took the sole credit for Batman’s creation, and it wasn’t until 2015, after a long battle by historians and fans alike, that Bill Finger finally received co-creator status on Batman projects. The documentary Batman and Bill (2017) based on Marc Tyler Nobleman's book helped bring this story to the forefront, revealing just how much Bill Finger shaped the Batman mythology and how little credit he received in his lifetime.

Yet, despite this overdue recognition, Bill Finger still doesn’t have a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. And that, to me, is an injustice that needs to be corrected.

Michael Uslan: The Man Who Fought for a Dark Knight

While Bill Finger’s contributions largely took place in Batman’s early comic book days, there’s another figure who shaped Batman in a completely different medium: film. Michael Uslan is the reason why we have the Batman we all know and love today on the silver screen—the serious, dark, crime-fighting detective that stands in stark contrast to the campy version of Batman that dominated pop culture in the 1960s.

If you’ve ever watched Batman (1989), The Dark Knight (2008), or The Batman (2022), you owe a huge thank you to Michael Uslan. Without him, those movies might not have existed—or at least, they wouldn’t have portrayed Batman as the gritty, serious hero that we’ve come to embrace in modern cinema.

The road to getting Batman taken seriously in Hollywood wasn’t easy. After the 1966 Batman TV series, which was wildly popular but campy and comedic, the idea of a dark Batman seemed almost laughable to the Hollywood establishment. But Uslan believed in the Batman from the comics—the detective who was haunted by his past, driven by justice, and defined by his intellect.

Uslan’s passion led him to acquire the film rights to Batman in 1979, but it took ten years of relentless effort and rejections before he finally convinced Hollywood to give his vision a chance. His persistence paid off with the release of Batman in 1989, directed by Tim Burton and starring Michael Keaton. This film was a game-changer. It proved that superhero movies could be serious, complex, and deeply artistic, paving the way for the entire genre as we know it today.

If it hadn’t been for Uslan, we wouldn’t have Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight trilogy, which is widely considered one of the greatest film trilogies of all time. We wouldn’t have Joker (2019), which gave us a gritty, character-driven film that won two Oscars. And we wouldn’t have the recent The Batman (2022), which continues Uslan’s legacy of presenting the Dark Knight as a serious, noir-inspired character.

Michael Uslan didn’t just redefine Batman; he redefined what superhero movies could be. Yet, like Bill Finger, he’s often overlooked when we talk about Batman’s cultural impact.

Why This Matters in 2024: Batman’s 85th Anniversary

2024 marks Batman’s 85th anniversary. Eighty-five years of stories, films, comics, and animated series that have touched the lives of millions. Batman has become more than just a character; he’s a cultural icon, a symbol of justice, determination, and resilience.

As we celebrate Batman’s 85th year, it’s time to recognize the people behind the mask. Bill Finger and Michael Uslan are as essential to Batman’s legacy as Bruce Wayne himself. Without them, Batman might never have evolved into the complex character we know today, and his impact on pop culture might have been far less profound.

Bill Finger gave us Batman’s mythos, while Michael Uslan fought to bring Batman back to his roots on the big screen. Their contributions go beyond entertainment—they’ve shaped the very way we think about superheroes, storytelling, and even justice itself.

Let’s Make This Right: Join the Petition

Batman’s star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame is a momentous occasion, but it’s incomplete. Bill Finger and Michael Uslan deserve their stars next to the hero they helped create and redefine. It’s time for the Hollywood Walk of Fame to honor their contributions, not just to Batman, but to pop culture as a whole.

I’m calling on all Batman fans, comic book lovers, and film buffs to join me in this cause. Let’s give Bill Finger and Michael Uslan the recognition they deserve. Please sign the petition, share it with your friends, and let’s make sure these legends are finally immortalized alongside the Dark Knight himself.

In the end...

Batman has meant so much to so many of us, but the real heroes behind his success deserve their due. Bill Finger and Michael Uslan have shaped the Batman that we grew up with and continue to love today. Their contributions should not be forgotten, and it’s up to us—the fans—to make sure they get the recognition they deserve.

Together, we can make sure that Bill Finger and Michael Uslan have their stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, right where they belong.

[finniestoncrane]

Hi for like the third time this week! (this is still the same anon who cannot stop sending you asks about Reeves!Verse Penguin). Your writing has me down so bad for this old man hnnngggg (I promise I will stop cluttering your inbox now!)

But do you have any headcanons for our beloved Oswald? Like, not necessarily romantic ones, but like, how he views himself, random facts about him that you just absolutely hold to be true? As always, absolutely no pressure to answer, I was just curious!

(also, I didn't know there was going to be a spin-off with him??? is this true??)

Thank you for putting up with my endless Daddy Oz asks and for your absolutely wonderful writing!! 💜💜

you're not cluttering anon you're just lovely and sweet and giving me an excuse to think about him every day (even though i do that anyway)

BUT YEAH OK YOU OPENED THE FLOODGATES i have a whole like 2k words of headcanon notes that i keep meaning to find time to organise and write out properly, but i'd love to share my favourites with no particular sort of organisation i am so sorry lmao 💜

he makes his s/o and/or family go for sunday walks together but he calls them the "sunday waddles" because he's a dork

makes pasta like his grandmother used to make to a secret recipe and lets you taste it by licking his finger

insists on recreating the lady and the tramp scene with spaghetti anytime it's on the table in front of you

one of his favourite hobbies is bowling, he has his own specially made ball and matching gloves and shoes and shirt, and he holds your hips while you throw and is very keen to help you play

he'll use so many petnames for people, s/o and friends and goons, that he will forget people's actual names

he's the sweetest around kids, calls himself uncle oz and is always handing them $50 bills

he speaks italian when he's railing you

100% is in charge of the grill at BBQs and has an apron that looks like a tuxedo

he celebrates redundant anniversaries with too many gifts and far too much enthusiasm like the first time he saw you, the first time you spoke to him, the first time you spent the night, the first time you kissed, the first time you took a ride in his car etc.

i've named his kids i'm sorry he has two sons called lorenzo and walden and he calls them lolly and wally (for daddy oz i will be soft enough for kids)

he flirts with EVERYONE. wait staff, bartenders, the guy at the bank, his goons, your mother

you show him an old woman, he's got them swooning and calling him a precious young man while they pinch his cheeks, he is such a charmer

he has dogs. so many dogs. pomeranians and chihuahuas. and they're all named after pasta dishes. he cookes them steak every night and he'll be out on his lawn in the morning with like 10 leashes taking them all for a walk and they all sleep in the bed with him every night

he doesn't think he's particularly handsome but he knows he holds himself well and looks smart all the time

he thought he'd be dead before he hit 40 (shot, cigars, drinking)

he hasn't thrown a punch in action in over a decade because he doesn't need to anymore but he has a punching bag in his garage to keep himself prepared