#jim gordon x oc

[twofacedharveydent]

Every once in a while something changes And she's changing me

We Were Born Sick Series   ↳ Jim x Bird

• We Were Born Sick • Wasteland • Devil’s Playground

Everything tag list: @missecharlotte , @darknightfrombeyond , @arrthurpendragon , @ocappreciationtag

Message me if you’d like to added or removed from the list.

[celestialsister0918]

Pinterest loves the Submissioner Gordon universe as much as I do.

Seriously my favorite story I will ever write. Claire and Jim are 🔥. Only woman in the world perfect for both Jim Gordon and Norman Stansfield. (I promise it makes sense. Go read!)

It’s been on my mind lately to turn this into an original work. No clue how to do it, but I want Claire famous lol.

For my MCU readers, I am almost done with my next Brutasha chapter. It’s been a long time coming, I know. I need to make a few tweaks though. It’s been really tough to write their reunion after Sakaar. I kinda understand (as much as I hate to admit it) why those dastardly Russo brothers struggled with it so much.

[batmanlovesnirvana]

Chapter eight | back to black.

masterlist.

pairing : battinson x fem!oc (can be read as x reader)

words : +7k

A/N : FUNERAL DAY !! I originally planned for this chapter to be 10k words, but it felt like too much, so I decided to split it into two parts. I’ll post the next part soon after this one! As always, feel free to leave a comment—I love hearing your thoughts!

cw : Bruce being a simp, Maryam and her sisters making fun of him, I forgot what else, 18+, thriller, medical procedures, angst, mental health issues, depression, ptsd, noire, canon-typical violence, POV alternating, gritty, horror, illness, slow burn, action, fluff, mutual pining, forced proximity, crime families, crime, fighting ect… read at your own risk !

THE CAVE FEELS MORE LIKE A TOMB than a workspace, cold and silent, echoing only the low whirring of Bruce's gadgets. 

Beneath Wayne Tower, Gotham's pulse feels distant, dulled by layers of concrete and steel.

At his workbench, as usual, Bruce sits alone, bathed in the soft blue glow of multiple screens. His face is as unmoving as stone, but his eyes burn with an intensity that belies his calm. 

On the screen before him, the footage replays—not of Gotham's criminals, not of the streets he prowls, not even of Selina's contacts or his enemies. But her. Maryam.

Maryam—like the Virgin Mary, but nothing so innocent, nothing so untouchable. Maryam is fire and ice, contradiction and certainty, strength and vulnerability. She is as untamed as the storm and as steady as the mountains. 

He knows it well, and yet, even after all this time, she's still a mystery he can't solve, a puzzle with pieces he's terrified to touch.

The screen freezes on her face, capturing her in mid-sentence, her expression twisted not in anger, but in something deeper—hurt. Her brow is furrowed, and those striking hazel eyes, that impossible green-gold, blaze with a betrayal that lances through him like a blade. Her lips, poised to unleash a torrent of words she'd held back, are pressed tight in defiance. And all he can do is stare, feeling the sting of his own stupidity.

Valuable. 

He'd said it as if it were a compliment, as if it justified the risks she took, as if it somehow explained the place she'd carved out in his life of shadows and secrets. But he hadn't anticipated her reaction, the flicker of hurt that had flashed across her face, the way she'd recoiled, as though he'd reduced her to a pawn in his endless game of vengeance.

His hands, fingers tense above the controls, curl into fists as her words echo back, slicing through the silence of the Cave like a ghostly accusation.

"Just some asset to monitor, a liability to contain—like a ticking bomb?"

He could see her in his mind, fire in her eyes as she spat the words at him, her voice trembling with fury, her frame taut with unspent energy. And he'd felt that pang, deep in his chest, as if something inside him had cracked, letting in the tiniest sliver of vulnerability, one he'd locked away long ago.

He remembers the way she looked at him, her gaze searching, peeling back the layers of his resolve with an intimacy he wasn't prepared for. "I'm not just... valuable. I'm a person. I bleed, I hurt. And you... you can't just..." She'd hesitated, her voice wavering, raw with something achingly human. "You can't just treat me like I'm another cog in your mission."

She'd left him speechless. 

He, who always had an answer, who prided himself on his ability to read people, who knew Gotham's darkest corners like the back of his hand—he had nothing to say. 

Because she was right.

He'd built his life on walls, fortress upon fortress, a castle to keep everyone out, and her words had broken through like a wrecking ball.

He leans forward, his elbows resting on the table, burying his face in his hands. 

And for the first time in years, he feels the weight of guilt, sharp and foreign, pressing into him like a blade he can't remove. He'd made a vow to never let anyone in, to keep his mission above everything, and yet here she was, tearing down his carefully constructed armor with nothing but her honesty.

He's so absorbed that he doesn't notice Alfred's quiet approach, the soft click of his footsteps as he stops a few paces behind. 

After a moment, the butler clears his throat gently, breaking the silence. 

Bruce doesn't turn, but his body tenses, the mask slipping back into place, though the rawness lingers in his eyes.

"Enjoying the view, sir?" Alfred asks, his tone laced with mischief as he steps into the dim light.

Bruce clenches his jaw, not answering his guardian, the words swirling in his mind—valuable, asset, liability. He feels the weight of them now, heavier than ever.

He'd built walls so high around himself, walls no one—not even Alfred—could breach. But Maryam... she had found a way through, dismantling his defenses piece by piece, forcing him to confront things he'd long since buried. 

Things he swore to himself would never resurface.

"Looks like you upset her," Alfred says softly, "Again." he says putting his arm behind his back, inspecting the screens before him.

Bruce exhales, shifting in his chair, his annoyance barely concealed. "It's not... like that, Alfred." His voice is low, roughened by something that sounds almost like regret. "She just... she has this way of getting under my skin."

Alfred chuckled softly, moving closer and crossing his arms as he leaned against the edge of the workbench. "Under your skin? Good heavens, I'd say that's quite the understatement, Master Wayne."

Bruce didn't reply, his eyes fixed on the monitor. 

The screen showed Maryam's face frozen in a moment of hurt, her emotions laid bare. That expression gnawed at him, more than he cared to admit.

Alfred caught the flicker in his young master's gaze and raised his brows, making his point.

"Not many people would stand up to you like that."

Bruce frowned, his jaw tightening as he turned his gaze back to the screen. "It's not about standing up to me," he muttered, his voice so low it was almost a gravelly whisper.

But Alfred, as persistent as ever, pressed on. "Oh, I think it is. That kind of anger comes from caring, Bruce. Even if you didn't realize it at the time."

Bruce let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. Stubbornness radiated off him like armor. "She misunderstood."

"Did she? Or did you just say the wrong thing?"

Bruce's jaw tightened further, his teeth grinding almost audibly. "She doesn't understand what I'm trying to do."

"And whose fault is that, hm? Communication has never been your strongest suit, sir."

Bruce didn't respond, the tension in his body evident in the way his hands gripped the computer mouse and his knuckles whitened.

Alfred watched him in silence for a moment before speaking again, his tone softer now, more measured. "People aren't tools, Bruce. She said it better than I could. They're not assets to be managed or risks to be calculated. Especially not someone like her."

Bruce's gaze faltered for a moment, his mind replaying the moment on its own, no longer needing the footage. He could hear her voice, see her expression, feel the weight of her words. The hurt in her voice cut through him like glass, and her defiance still lingered in the space between them.

Was she wrong to be angry? No. If anything, she'd been right. He had reduced her to a tool in that moment, another pawn in his endless war. But Maryam wasn't a tool. She wasn't a pawn. She wasn't like anyone else.

She had her own battles, her own scars. And yet, she had stood before him, unflinching, demanding more. Demanding better.

And he had failed her.

"If you truly believe she's valuable," Alfred said quietly, "perhaps you should show her why."

Bruce finally turned slightly, his eyes meeting Alfred's briefly. The butler gave him a small, encouraging smile.

"You'll have another chance, I'm sure," Alfred continued. Then, after a pause, he added, "Didn't you tell me that she seems familiar—?"

"She's a medical examiner. Nothing else."

There it was again—his stubbornness, a trait they both shared. Or was it something else? More like fear. 

Fear from a man who claimed to have none.

The thought of letting someone in, of opening even the smallest part of himself, was too much. Too dangerous.  It wasn't practical; he told himself that over and over. There wasn't time for it.

The butler sighed, shaking his head, as though reading Bruce's thoughts. "You keep telling yourself that, sir."

Bruce didn't reply, his gaze drifting back to the darkened screen. The weight of his choices, of his words, hung heavy in the cave, like a storm cloud refusing to dissipate.

A beat of silence passed before Alfred's voice cut through, pulling him back to the present. "Shall I take it as a good sign," the butler asked, a faint smile playing on his lips, a touch of humor in his tone.

Bruce furrowed his brows, not understanding. "What?"

Alfred gestured toward him. "Your attire." he clarified, raising a brow. "Is Bruce Wayne making an actual appearance?"

Oh, that.

Bruce glanced down at himself. He was, indeed, dressed in a suit—formal and impeccable, though he had barely noticed the effort it had taken.

Blinking as if shaking off the question's sudden intrusion, he straightened, rolling his shoulders to cast off the weight of his thoughts.

"There's a public memorial for Mayor Mitchell," he explained, his voice steady but cool. "Serial killers like to follow the reaction to their crimes—Riddler might not be able to resist."

"Oh, that reminds me." Alfred reached into his waistcoat pocket, producing a folded piece of paper. "I took the liberty of doing a little work on this latest cipher..."

Bruce finally turned from the screens, the faint screeches of bats echoing from above as he focused on Alfred. The butler unfolded the paper, gesturing to the symbols.

"I'm afraid his Spanish is less than perfect, but I'm fairly certain it translates to, 'You are el rata alada.'"

Bruce took the paper, his brow furrowing as he studied it. "'Rata alada'... rat with wings?"

"It's slang for pigeon," Alfred explained. "Does that make any sense to you?"

Bruce nodded slightly, his mind already working. "Yeah... a stool pigeon."

Before the thought could deepen, Alfred's sharp eyes caught something else. "Where are your cufflinks?" he remarked, gesturing toward Bruce's bare cuffs.

Bruce muttered distractedly, "Couldn't find them," his attention still fixed on the cipher in his hands.

Alfred sighed and pulled a pair from his own pocket, stepping forward. "You can't go out like that—"

"Alfred, I don't want your cufflinks," Bruce snapped, irritation flickering in his voice as he glanced briefly at the older man.

"You have to keep up appearances," Alfred insisted, his tone calm but firm as he took Bruce's wrist and began fastening the cufflink. "You're still a Wayne, after all."

Reluctantly, Bruce let him.

As Alfred worked, Bruce noticed the monogrammed 'W' on the cufflink. He raised an eyebrow and let out a small, wry chuckle. "What about you? Are you a Wayne now?"

Alfred smiled faintly, moving to secure the other sleeve. "Your father gave them to me," he said quietly, the words heavy with unspoken emotion.

Bruce paused, the statement catching him off guard. 

He looked at Alfred, his expression softening slightly. But Alfred, ever the professional, broke the moment with a lighthearted smile. "I'm just loaning them to you—I want them back."

The billionaire nodded, a rare, fleeting warmth passing between them before he turned away, the weight of their conversation still lingering in the cave air.

The sun had barely risen, casting a dim, gray light over Gotham as Dr. Halimi adjusted the collar of her tailored black coat, her eyes scanning her reflection in the mirror. The soft morning light filtered through the small windows of her apartment, bathing the room in a quiet, muted glow.

She took a step back, her gaze moving over the sleek lines of the black coat, which hugged her figure with an austere, precise elegance. The cut was sharp, the fabric smooth, cinching at the waist and falling just below her knees—a perfect balance of timelessness and severity. She smoothed the lapel with practiced hands, tugging at the waist one last time before letting her eyes rest on the black veil pinned to her pillbox hat.

The veil draped softly over her high cheekbones, adding a quiet touch of drama to her otherwise composed appearance. It rested at a slight angle, lending her a timeless, classic look, while her caramel hair was half-up, the rest falling in soft waves down her back.

Sherine had teased her about the veil, calling it "a bit much," but to Maryam, it felt like the only choice. It was right for today—appropriate, even necessary.

Her black high heels clicked sharply against the hardwood floor as she stepped back once more. The impracticality of them was a minor sacrifice for the sake of elegance. She adjusted the pillbox hat once again, smoothing the veil, allowing herself a fleeting moment to indulge in the kind of grace she rarely had the chance to embrace.

Maryam wasn’t one to lean into vanity—not because she didn’t enjoy it, but because her line of work didn’t exactly leave room for it. But today... today was different.

Her eyes dropped to her hand, where she held her mother’s brooch—an old, delicate thing, with silver vines curling around soft pearls. She ran her thumb over its familiar curves, feeling the weight of its history, its stories, pressed into her skin.

It was a relic, a link to a past long gone, and for years it had been tucked away in a velvet box beneath her bed. Pinning it to her coat had felt like the right choice—small, subtle, and close to her heart. But now, doubt began to creep in.

Would it draw too much attention? Invite too many questions? She wasn’t sure if anyone here would recognize it—or what it would mean if they did. For a moment, she considered leaving it behind.

Just then, Sherine yawned from the hallway, adjusting her earrings in the mirror. Dressed in a sharp black dress and high heels, she looked every bit the polished, worldly journalist and archaeologist she was.

She'd flown in from Metropolis just for this, bringing with her an extra pep in her step and an almost comical disbelief at Gotham's perpetual gloom. Despite being a Gothamite herself, it seemed that Metropolis had rubbed off on her.

"Okay fine, I admit it, the veil looks amazing," Sherine's voice broke through Maryam's thoughts as she stepped further into the room, reaching out to touch the delicate fabric. 

The doctor quickly slapped her hand away, and Sherine rolled her eyes in exaggerated annoyance.

Maryam smirked, smoothing down the veil with a delicate hand. "Thanks, it's called 'honoring tradition,' Sher."

Her sister raised an eyebrow. "Right. A tradition you remembered just for today, I see. You look like you're about to attend a royal funeral."

"Close enough," Maryam retorted with a dry laugh, checking her reflection again. "Besides, with Bruce Wayne rumored to make an appearance, it might as well be. Gotham's royalty, gracing us commoners with his presence."

"Ah, yes. Mr. Wayne," Sherine replied, practically snickering. "The hermit king himself."

Maryam shot her sister a sideways glance, a smirk tugging at the corners of her otherwise serious expression. “Can you believe it? Word is, the elusive Wayne heir might actually make an appearance today,” she said, raising an arm dramatically and waving it like she was unveiling a grand banner.

Sherine scoffed. "Nepo baby royalty. It's ridiculous, really. His family practically built Gotham—and I don't mean that in a good way. He's the poster child for unchecked capitalism."

Maryam chuckled, shaking her head. "You're not wrong. The Wayne legacy is all around us, and yet he hides away like some... Gotham myth."

"Not unlike Falcone," Sherine added, raising an eyebrow. "Though between the two, I think Falcone's the scarier recluse."

The mention of Falcone brought a flicker of unease to Maryam's face. "Do you think he'll show up?" She asked, more to herself than to Sherine. The thought of Falcone coming out of his shadows was unsettling, to say the least.

"Not a chance," Sherine dismissed with a wave of her hand. "That man's probably hiding under a dozen layers of security and shadows."

"Still, I wouldn't put it past him. He's got his hands in everything in this city."

"Not more reclusive than Bruce Wayne, though," Sherine snorted, reaching for her clutch. "At least Falcone actually does something—however terrible it is."

"If he shows up with his son Vittorio, I swear to God, I'll—" Maryam began, spritzing a hint of her favorite perfume on her wrists.

"You will do absolutely nothing," Sherine cut in, standing beside her and fussing with her hair in the mirror, her vibrant red waves catching the muted morning light. "You don't want to start anything, especially today. It's the mayor's funeral, for crying out loud."

"Oh, I'm serious, Sherine. I went out as the Wraith just two nights ago and yesterday as a civilian, and still nothing. Nothing! If Vittorio even glances in Alma's direction, they're going to find out exactly what I'm capable of," Maryam muttered, her eyes flashing with a hint of defiance as she twisted off the cap of her perfume.

Sherine raised an eyebrow. "And that's exactly why I'm reminding you to keep it together. This isn't some Gotham street brawl—it's a funeral. Dignity, remember?"

Maryam scoffed, setting the perfume bottle back on her dresser. "Falcone is the last person who deserves any respect. And his son? The only thing he got from his father is that insufferable sense of entitlement."

Sherine just sighed, too tired to argue with her stubborn sister. "You're impossible," she muttered, shaking her head.

Maryam responded with a faint, tight smile, but her eyes flickered back to the brooch now sitting quietly on her dresser.

She picked it up, her thumb tracing the delicate silver vines and tiny pearls. It felt almost too precious for a day like this—too bold, too revealing of a heritage she'd rather keep hidden.

Sherine noticed her hesitation. "Are you really going to wear that?" she asked, softening her tone, then quickly added with a grin, "Actually, I hope you do."

"I don't know," Maryam murmured, uncertain.

"Oh, for heaven's sake. Just wear the damn brooch," Sherine said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "No one here is going to recognize it. The average Gothamite probably thinks the Romanovs are a brand of vodka."

"Not everyone's that ignorant of history," Maryam replied with a hint of amusement.

Sherine smirked. "Maybe not, but Gotham has its own blind spots. Who's really going to scrutinize your jewelry today?"

Maryam took a deep breath, her fingers hovering over the brooch before slipping it back into its velvet box, closing the lid firmly. "I just... don't want any unnecessary attention."

Sherine shrugged, looking Maryam over. "Fine. But you're still the most elegant one there, veil and all. That coat is practically regal."

Maryam's gaze lingered on the box, feeling the familiar tug of unease. She'd nearly decided to leave it behind... but, almost on instinct, she pinned the brooch to her coat, the weight of it settling against her heart.

"Yeah, fuck it," she said with a finality, sliding her clutch under her arm."So, are you ready? We need to pick up Aunt Meysa and Alma before they complain that we left them to fend for themselves."

"Oh, trust me," Sherine replied, laughing as she slipped on her coat. "Aunt Meysa is probably lecturing Alma as we speak. You know Alma's in hiding mode—poor thing can't even escape her law books without Aunt Meysa giving her a full interrogation."

Maryam smiled knowingly. "It's probably good for Alma. Keeps her grounded."

As they made their way out of the apartment, Maryam's heels clicked against the floor with a steady rhythm, each step seeming to amplify her resolve. 

Sherine chattered beside her as they descended the stairs and headed to Maryam's car, parked just down the block. The streets were already buzzing with Gotham's peculiar mix of early risers and the last stragglers of the night.

Sliding into the driver's seat, Maryam took a deep breath, her fingers gripping the steering wheel. Her sister glanced over, reading her sister's tension.

"Hey, it's just a funeral," Sherine said, trying to sound lighthearted.

"It's Gotham," Maryam corrected, a hint of grim humor in her voice. "Funerals here are never just funerals."

Sherine laughed. "Alright, fair. But come on, it's the mayor's funeral, not some mob boss's funeral. How bad could it be?"

Maryam shot her a look that clearly said, You should know better by now.

As they drove, Sherine’s phone buzzed incessantly, its ringing filling the otherwise quiet car.

The name "C" flashed on the screen, and Maryam caught the subtle twitch of her sister’s eye— the same one that always appeared when this particular contact reached out. The phone rang again, and Maryam couldn’t help but glance at her sister, who tried to hide the faint blush creeping up her neck.

They exchanged a quick glance, and both reached for the phone. Sherine, always quick, made a grab for it, but Maryam, with a mischievous grin, was quicker.

She snatched the phone away before Sherine had a chance to react.

"Ooooh, who is this, dear sister?" Maryam teased, unlocking the phone and scrolling through the messages. "Hmm? Someone special?"

"Nobody!" Sherine snapped, her voice tight as she stretched for the phone, but Maryam held it out of reach, enjoying her sister’s discomfort.

Maryam clicked on the contact photo, revealing a handsome man with black glasses, a shy smile, and messy black curls that fell just above his forehead. It looked like one of those professional photos you’d put on a company badge.

"Ooh, very cute. Very your style. Very glasses, very nerdy... very American," Maryam mocked playfully.

Sherine blushed deeply, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. "Khalas, Maryam! We’re gonna have an accident!" she scolded, her voice sharp as she tried once again to reach for the phone, but Maryam pulled it away.

Maryam continued scrolling, her fingers dancing across the screen. "Come on, tell me his name, and I’ll stop."

Sherine sighed in defeat. "Okay, fine! Clark, his name is Clark!"

Maryam raised an eyebrow, clicking her tongue. "Very American," she said with a grin. Sherine’s face reddened further, and her voice hardened as she reached for the phone again.

"Maryam."

Maryam sighed, finally giving in and tossing the phone into Sherine’s lap. The car remained perfectly still— Maryam was too precise behind the wheel for anything to disrupt their calm drive. The silence lingered, but Maryam wasn’t quite ready to let it settle just yet.

With a small smirk on her lips, Maryam reached for the radio, her red nails glittering as they stopped at a red light. She glanced at her sister, then at the road, before breaking the silence.

"So?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity and mischief.

Sherine let out a long sigh, her voice softening as she glanced at the passing streets. "Ugh, yes, he's very American. From Kansas, farmer’s son and all that," she muttered, her tone losing some of its usual edge. "And... yeah, he's very attractive, to put it simply. Clark Joseph Kent. That's his name. He works at the Daily Planet as a journalist with me."

As Sherine spoke, her voice steadied, but Maryam could hear the quiet vulnerability slipping through her words. Sherine always said a person's full name when she was crushing hard on them.

"We're just friends, okay?" Sherine added, biting her nails nervously as she stole a glance at the road. "I mean, what am I even saying? Just colleagues. He's... he's interested in someone else." Her gaze drifted out the window, and Maryam caught the subtle clench of her sister's jaw, the silent struggle to hold back her feelings. "I met him three months ago and made him visit our place of work per Perry's order. That's all there is to know. We work together, and that's it." It was almost as if she were trying to convince herself.

Maryam raised an eyebrow, her smirk never wavering. She knew her sister too well. Sherine could pretend she didn’t care, but Maryam could see the truth beneath the layers of nonchalance.

But she also knew when to stay silent and let her sister talk in her own time.

"You better not tell anyone about him," Sherine said quietly, her voice carrying a hint of caution.

Maryam turned the wheel to the left, steering them through a turn, and made the motion of zipping her mouth with one hand. "Your secret’s safe with me," she teased, her smirk still in place.

They pulled up in front of Aunt Meysa's building, where both Aunt Meysa and Aunt Jamila were already waiting at the curb. 

Aunt Meysa, the picture of elegance, stood tall in a somber black dress, her usual veil draped gracefully over her greying hair. She raised an eyebrow, her usual approving expression settling on her face.

"Masha'Allah," she said with a nod, her eyes scanning their outfits. "You both look presentable, thank goodness."

Maryam smirked, fighting back a laugh. "Shokran, Amti Meysa."

Beside her, Aunt Jamila let out a low chuckle, her lips pulling into a wry smile as she cast Maryam and Sherine a quick, assessing look. "Almost like they didn't grow up running around in dusty alleys."

Maryam only hummed in response, stepping forward to kiss the cheeks of her two aunts in turn.

Just then, Aunt Meysa cast a sharp look back toward the building entrance. "Alma's coming down," she announced, a hint of exasperation in her tone. Her gaze flicked to Maryam. "You know she's ignoring you, right?"

"Isn't she always?" Maryam replied, shrugging lightly.

Sure enough, Alma appeared in the doorway moments later. She wore a simple black dress paired with an elegant coat and high-heeled boots. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and her gaze remained downcast, deliberately avoiding her sisters.

"Ah, finally!" Aunt Jamila clapped her hands, her tone hovering between amusement and reproach.

Sherine leaned out of the car window with a grin. "Ready to face the lions, Alma?" she teased as Alma climbed into the backseat, her expression resigned.

Alma rolled her eyes, folding her arms tightly. "Like I had much of a choice," she muttered, shooting Aunt Meysa a half-hearted glare.

Aunt Meysa arched an eyebrow, her voice thick with her Arab accent. "I swear to God, girls, I don’t want any problems. I’m warning you!"

When they finally pulled up in front of Gotham’s City Hall, the scene outside was pure chaos. The streets were teeming with people, their chants rising in the air—"No more lies." Banners with the Riddler's ominous symbols waved above the crowd like a dark omen.

"Shouf," Aunt Meysa gestured toward the crowd, her head tilting slightly, eyes narrowing in disbelief. "What is this?" she demanded, clutching her veil tightly as she observed the scene with sharp, calculating eyes.

No one responded right away. The atmosphere was heavy with tension as they all stared out at the gathering, unsure of what they were witnessing.

Suddenly, a cop tapped on the glass, pulling Maryam from her thoughts. She snapped to attention, rolling the window down with a slight hesitation.

"Hello, names please," the officer said, his tone bordering on a command as he looked at them expectantly.

"Ben Halimi, sir," Aunt Jamila replied smoothly, handing Maryam an envelope with the invitations.

Maryam passed the envelope to the officer, who took it and quickly skimmed the contents. "Alright," he said with a nod, pointing toward a nearby parking lot. "This way, please."

As they parked, the air felt thick with humidity, the wet pavement reflecting the city’s lights. The sound of heels clicking against the slick ground echoed through the otherwise quiet street. Aunt Meysa led the way, her steps measured and dignified, her head held high as always. Sherine, Maryam, and Alma followed closely behind, the weight of the evening settling over them in the form of a quiet procession.

"Why didn't we get the same service?" Aunt Meysa asked, casting a critical glance at the sleek, elegant cars pulling up nearby.

"Because we're peasants, Amti," Maryam quipped without missing a beat, her tone dry and laced with humor.

Aunt Jamila laughed, her eyes sparkling. "Maryam, you look like royalty. We should've had the same treatment," she teased.

Maryam gave a mock grimace, her lips curling into a wry smile. "Yes, of course. And maybe we should've brought our butler too, right?" she retorted, which earned her an exaggerated eye roll from her aunt.

As they approached the entrance to City Hall, Maryam’s eyes scanned the crowd, noting the sea of black suits and dresses, the low hum of conversation, and the occasional camera flash from the paparazzi. Her gaze landed on Warda and her husband, Ryan, standing near the grand staircase. They were mostly overlooked by the flashing cameras, an odd relief in the sea of attention.

Warda stood with her hands gently resting over her growing belly, radiant even in mourning attire. Ryan hovered close beside her, one hand protectively on her back, his gaze sharp as he scanned the bustling crowd.

Aunt Jamila waved at them, her expression softening into something warm and affectionate. She shuffled over to greet them while other attendees glanced their way. Sherine offered those onlookers an awkward smile, but Maryam merely raised a brow, daring anyone to say something.

"Finally! We've been waiting for you. Rania's been fussing—"

"We know," Alma interrupted, her tone curt as she slipped her hands into her coat for warmth. "We saw the messages in the group chat."

"Feeling alright?" Maryam asked Warda, her instinct as a doctor surfacing as she nodded toward her sister's rounded belly.

Warda smiled gently. "Just fine. Ryan's the one fussing over me, though."

Ryan shook his head with an amused smirk, but Maryam chuckled, looping her arm through her sister's. "That's what husbands are for."

In Gotham, even a funeral felt like a performance, and Maryam couldn't help but wonder what kind of show was waiting for them inside.

She didn't have to wonder for long.

Not far from them, Carmine Falcone emerged from a sleek black car, flanked by his usual bodyguards. 

He extended a hand to help a striking woman out—a companion for the day, no doubt. Behind them, his son, Vittorio, followed, phone pressed to his ear, his sharp gaze scanning the crowd with calculated precision. Maryam heard Alma shift nervously behind her.

"Is that—" Ryan started, narrowing his eyes.

"The Falcones," Maryam muttered, an unexpected flare of anger tightening her jaw.

"No, I meant Bruce Wayne," Ryan clarified.

"Oh my god, yes!" Warda whispered, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

"He's even more handsome in person," Aunt Jamila added, squinting like she was assessing a priceless possession.

"Look, Maryam! Go talk to him!" she urged, her voice practically bubbling over with enthusiasm.

"Don't be ridiculous, Amti," Warda replied in Arabic, trying to suppress a laugh.

But Maryam wasn't paying attention. She hardly noticed the paparazzi shouting for Wayne or her family's chatter, because at that moment, Vittorio's eyes locked with Alma's. Alma immediately turned her head, a blush creeping up her cheeks, while his jaw tightened visibly.

Sherine squeezed Maryam's arm. "Mar—"

"Don't you dare, Maryam! You'll embarrass me!" Alma hissed, but her words went ignored.

Maryam shook off her sister's grip, her focus narrowing as she strode confidently toward the Falcones. Aunt Meysa's voice trailed after her, sharp with disapproval. "Where is she going? We're supposed to go inside!"

But Maryam didn't stop. Every step she took drew attention. As she closed the distance to Gotham's notorious crime family, one of Falcone's security guards stepped in her way.

"Ma'am, what do you think you're doing?" he asked, his tone cold and dismissive.

Maryam pointed at Vittorio, her eyes burning with intent. "I need to speak to him."

Carmine's dark-rimmed glasses gleamed in the dim light as he turned his attention to her. His gaze, a mixture of curiosity and quiet menace, lingered on her before he spoke, his voice a low rumble. "And who might you be?"

Without flinching, she met his stare, her voice steady. "You should ask your son."

Vittorio said nothing, his gaze dropping away as he clenched his jaw and slid his phone into his waistcoat pocket. But Carmine didn't wait for an explanation. His sharp eyes flicked over Maryam's shoulder, settling on her family. His gaze lingered on Alma, and a knowing smirk tugged at his lips.

"They weren't lying when they said you girls were a sight to see. Beautiful," he murmured, his tone as smooth as it was unsettling.

A shudder rippled through Maryam, her unease deepening.

Then, from behind him, came a laugh—loud, brash, and unmistakably familiar.

Oz Cobblepot. Of course.

The sudden jolt of recognition struck Maryam. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. 

What did he mean by that? The way he spoke, like he already knew them—knew her—made her uneasy. Before she could find her voice, Carmine slipped his hand under her arm, his grip surprisingly gentle, almost as if she were fragile porcelain.

"Take a walk with us," he said, guiding her forward.

Still in a daze, Maryam let herself be led, her feet moving almost automatically as they began climbing the stairs. 

She glanced back, catching the confused, wary looks of her family. Aunt Jamila's eyes narrowed, a mix of concern and indignation flashing in them. Alma, on the other hand, seemed like she wanted to vanish into the ground. Aunt Meysa's stern expression softened, her lips pressing into a tight line, as if she wanted to call Maryam back but couldn't bring herself to.

As they ascended, Maryam's heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing with questions she couldn't yet voice.

Bruce gripped the steering wheel, his gaze narrowing as he scanned the city hall ahead. 

The city hall loomed ahead, its steps swarming with mourners and a sea of makeshift memorials. Flowers, candles, and angry placards blurred together in the drizzle, the wet pavement reflecting glints of firelight and the oppressive gray sky.

People were chanting "no more lies" people who at first thought were mourners but needed people who were protesting.

Among them , a group of hooded men caught his eye, their scrawled question-mark signs mimicking the Riddler's mark. 

Always lurking, he thought grimly.

Not far from him, another protestor waved a sign reading "Who Else Dies for Gotham's Lies?"

His blood chilled at the sight.

The honk of a traffic cop jarred him back to the present.

He avance with his car in the traffic before he could even down his window, an officer was already double-tooking through it when he recognized Bruce, his stoic professionalism cracking into something close to reverence. "MR Wayne over here!" he pointed to the place where valets were waiting down the stairs of the city hall the cop waved him forward.

The valet opened his door, and Bruce stepped out, adjusting the cuffs of his tailored suit. The murmurs started immediately.

"Is that the Bruce Wayne?"

"Bruce Wayne's here!"

The paparazzi swarmed, shouting over each other as camera flashes exploded around him. Bruce reached for his wallet, barely paying attention.

Then he saw them.

Carmine Falcone stepped out of a sleek black car, his phalanx of bodyguards forming a protective shield around him. 

He moved with a calm, deliberate arrogance, the kind that only a man like Falcone could carry off. Bruce's eyes narrowed as he watched him reach out a hand to help someone step out of the car.

A slender leg, clad in a high-heeled boot, emerged first. Bruce's stomach tightened. The boots were strikingly similar to the ones Annika and Selina favored in the club. The woman followed, her face obscured by a hat, her movements poised and deliberate. For a moment, Bruce's mind reeled. Was that Selina?

But before he could process further, his attention snapped to something—or someone—else.

Maryam Ben Halimi.

The haunting of his dreams. 

Her face appeared in his line of sight, pulling his focus away from the unfolding scene. He recognized immediately despite her elegant veiled pillow box hat. She stood a short distance away, surrounded by a cluster of women—a pregnant woman, likely her sister, stood closest to her, her husband at her side. Maryam's hand rested gently on the woman's arm as she spoke, her expression soft but firm.

Bruce's hand, mid-motion to hand cash to the valet, faltered. 

The noise of the crowd, the paparazzi's shouts—it all faded into a dull hum. 

All he could see was her.

Even in the somber atmosphere of a funeral, she looked radiant. Her dark attire was elegant, almost regal-- like royalty, a stark contrast to the gritty chaos around them. 

For a fleeting moment, Bruce forgot why he was here. 

He forgot everything except the way she held herself—graceful, poised, utterly captivating.

Then she moved.

Bruce's brows furrowed as he watched Maryam break away from her family, her stride purposeful, graceful. She was heading straight toward Falcone.

What is she doing?

His pulse quickened as Carmine turned, his sharp eyes narrowing with interest as Maryam approached. The woman on his arm seemed momentarily forgotten.After talking for a few minutes, Carmine slipped his arm under Maryam's, his demeanor shifting to one of calculated charm as he began leading her up the steps to City Hall.

Bruce's stomach dropped.

No. No, no, no.

Before he could think, his body moved on instinct. 

The crowd was thick, a crush of mourners, reporters, and onlookers. Cameras flashed, and the paparazzi's voices rose in a cacophony around him, but he heard none of it. His eyes were locked on Maryam and Falcone, his focus razor-sharp.

He couldn't call out to her. No, that wasn't an option. She didn't know him—not as Bruce Wayne. To her, he was a stranger, a man with no place in her life.

And yet, none of that mattered. The only thing driving him forward was the unshakable instinct to pull her away from that man, to shield her from whatever danger lurked behind Falcone's veneer of charm.

As he closed the distance, the bottleneck near the entrance to city hall became a wall of bodies. Falcone's security detail fanned out, forming a human barricade between the mob boss and the growing crowd.

Bruce's jaw tightened, his frustration mounting as he tried to maneuver closer. Two bodyguards stepped into his path, their imposing forms blocking his view. His gaze darted past them, landing squarely on Maryam.

She turned then, her veil shifting slightly as her hazel eyes caught his. Bruce felt a jolt run through him. Her gaze met his directly—steady, searching. She took a shallow breath, her eyes narrowing as though trying to place him. Recognition? No, it couldn't be. She didn't know him. Not like this.

Still, he couldn't look away. 

It was as though the crowd, the noise, the chaos around them all melted into nothing. She held his gaze, her expression unreadable, while he stared back, caught in the moment.

It was only when one of the bodyguards slammed a hand against his chest that he snapped back to reality.

"Hey, hey—give us some space here, slick," the man growled, shoving Bruce back a step.

Bruce bristled, his frustration threatening to boil over. His piercing glare bore into the man as he fought the urge to push back harder.

The commotion finally drew Falcone's attention. The crime boss paused on the steps, his grip still resting lightly but possessively on Maryam's arm. He turned toward the scene, his eyes glinting with amusement as his thin lips curled into a smirk.

"Watch it, fellas—you've got the prince of the city there!" Falcone's drawl was smooth, mocking, every word dipped in condescension.

The bodyguards hesitated, exchanging glances before loosening their grip slightly at Falcone's signal.

Bruce stood rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on Maryam as if the sheer force of it could dissolve the distance between them. For a moment, something flickered in her eyes—uncertainty, hesitation, or perhaps a fleeting recognition that vanished as quickly as it came. He didn't know, couldn't know. 

But it pierced him all the same, an ache he wasn't prepared for.

The woman with the hat and the heels that had first caught his attention—the ones so similar to Selina's—turned as well, revealing not Selina, but Carla, the girl from the club. 

The realization barely registered; his focus was elsewhere.

"Some event," Falcone drawled, stepping forward with a smug grin. "Brought out the one guy in Gotham more reclusive than me. To what do we owe the honor, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce didn't answer. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Maryam. She stood beside Falcone, her posture stiff, her body tense, but her expression now unreadable. If she was afraid, she didn't show it. Instead, her composure was as calculated as a blade—poised, sharp, and ready.

Falcone noticed. He followed Bruce's gaze back to Maryam, his grin deepening. Then, in a move so deliberate it felt like a taunt, he slid an arm around her waist.

The effect was instant. Maryam's shoulders tightened, and though she didn't flinch, the discomfort was plain in the set of her jaw. Bruce's fists clenched at his sides, a surge of anger coursing through him. He stepped forward again, but the bodyguards moved in, one of them shoving him back with a heavy hand.

"Easy there, Wayne," Falcone said, raising an eyebrow, his voice laced with mockery. "We're just having a little chat." He turned back to Maryam, his expression almost playful. "Do you two know each other?"

Maryam's hesitation was barely perceptible, a single heartbeat of silence before she answered. "No," she said, her voice steady but tight. She looked away from Bruce, breaking the connection between their gazes. "He's a total stranger."

The words landed like a blow. Bruce's chest tightened. But weren't they true? She didn't know him—not here, not like this. Outside of the cowl, he was nothing to her. A stranger. He reminded himself that he couldn't fault her for that.

And yet, the sting remained.

But Bruce didn't falter. His gaze stayed locked on her, even as she avoided his. The tension between him and Falcone thickened, an unspoken challenge simmering just beneath the surface.

"Let her go," Bruce said quietly, his voice low and even, each word a deliberate act of defiance.

Falcone's smirk deepened. His hand on Maryam's waist tightened ever so slightly, a gesture so subtle it might have gone unnoticed. But not by Bruce.

"Why don't you run along, Wayne?" another voice interjected, this time Vittorio's, dripping with false civility. "This is family business."

Bruce ignored him, his eyes narrowing at Falcone. "I thought your father never left the Shoreline," he said coldly, his tone cutting. "Aren't you afraid someone'll take a shot at you?"

Falcone's smirk didn't waver, but his eyes darkened. "You mean now that your father isn't around?" He turned slightly, calling over his shoulder. "Oz, you know Bruce Wayne?"

A gravelly voice answered, "Whoa—s'that right?" Oswald Cobblepot emerged from the shadows, his calculating gaze sweeping over Bruce from head to toe. He looked unimpressed, but the sharp gleam in his eyes betrayed him.

Falcone chuckled, turning his attention back to Bruce. "His father saved my life, you know. I always tell the story to Vittorio here." He clapped a hand on his son's shoulder, but Vittorio didn't react, his cold gaze fixed on Bruce as he dragged on a cigarette.

Falcone tapped his chest. "Took a bullet right here. Couldn't go to a hospital, so we showed up on Dr. Wayne's doorstep. Operated on me right there on the dining room table. Kid here saw the whole thing." His grin widened. "You don't think that meant something?"

Bruce's jaw clenched. He wanted to fire back, but Maryam's voice cut through the tension.

"I should probably go," she said, her voice steady but edged with tension. She stepped away from the group with a fluid grace that bordered on defiance, her grip tightening around her clutch. Falcone didn't even acknowledge her departure, his attention still fixed on Bruce.

Her heels clicked sharply against the pavement as she moved, the sound cutting through the charged air. For a brief moment, she turned her head back toward him, a flicker of something in her eyes—uncertainty, or perhaps contemplation. Her brow furrowed, a brief pause in her otherwise composed demeanor, as though something was weighing heavily on her mind.

Then, with a final, decisive glance, she hurried into City Hall, blending into the crowd, her figure swallowed up by the throng of people.

Bruce's eyes followed her until she disappeared inside. 

Then, finally, he spoke. "It meant he took the Hippocratic Oath."

Falcone's laughter was sharp and derisive. "Hippocratic Oath, huh? That's good."

Vittorio, his silence thick as always, flicked his cigarette toward Bruce's shoes, a subtle yet pointed gesture. Bruce didn't so much as blink.

"'Scuse me," he muttered, brushing past them without a second glance.

His focus was singular now.

Maryam.

previous chapter | next

Oooooop 👀👀

I know this might be a bit cringey, but I can’t help myself—I just love doing it! So, here’s what I envisioned for Maryam’s outfit in this chapter :)) :

[ Translation ]

Amti : aunt.

Khalas : stop.

[yona049]

𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Part 1

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Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

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Preview~

𝚈/𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚓𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚝. 𝙸𝚗 𝙶𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚖 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚋𝚒𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚢 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚔, 𝚜𝚑𝚎'𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙶𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚖'𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝙲𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝙲𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛.

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°

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𝘿𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙧!!!

𝗜 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀! 𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝗶𝘀 𝗲𝘅𝗰𝗹𝘂𝘀𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝗗𝗖 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗰𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗲 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝘄𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝗗𝗖! ^○^

Warnings :

○Poison.

○Fainting

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"C'mon Gordon! I took a 2 day ferry from Metropolis just to get here! The least you can do is let me see him!"

Y/n was following hot on Commissioner Jim Gordon's heels as he rushed though the police station.

"I don't need the damn Daily planet on my case! I already have the Gazette to deal with." he growls as he stops at his desk grabbing his lighter and cigarette case.

Y/n stops beside him glaring at him intently. She was a reporter who had one job, get a story on Gotham City's favorite vigilante. The Batman.

Gordon lights his cigarette before leaning against his desk and taking a pull from it. He puffs out the smoke before gritting his teeth and making eye contact with the reporter.

"Miss L/n, what makes you think I could get you an exclusive with the bat?" he says.

Y/n only gives him a look that makes Gordon roll his eyes at the stupid question. Only a reporter like Y/n would be able to figure out how the bat gets all his info and who from?

"Gordon, this is my one chance to get a promotion, a good one. You've known me since I was ten! C'mon, just this once." she whimpers almost like a puppy gripping her reporter bag slung over her shoulder.

The commissioner only sighs, shaking his head. "Not this time kid. This is something I promised your dad I'd never let you get involved with." 

He puts his hand on the top of her back and respectfully pushes her towards the exit, snaking their way through the busy police station. 

"Look, while you're here I'll buy ya a drink and we can do some catching up. It's been a while." he stops on the steps outside the entrance.

Y/n sighs and scratches her head out of frustration. "Yeah, I'd love to." she gives a genuine smile before saying her goodbye to The commissioner and walking off into the Gotham night air. 

She stops in the alleyway beside the police station and leans against the building wall. Taking her phone from her pocket she scrolls though the contacts and presses on the name "Glasses man"

Putting it up to her ear she listens to it ring out. Finally, a nervous voice plays out. 'Hey! This is Clark-ah Kent! Leave a message!' 

Y/n sighs before talking. "Hi Glasses, you’re probably asleep right now, I didn't realise what time it was before I called. Anyway, just calling to say you might wanna keep my seat warm. I got nothing from my source. I might just book a ferry home tomorrow. At least it means I can still throw paper planes at your desk. I'll-"

She stops when a shadow flies over the ally and heavy cape flutters echo through the night air. Her lips curl into a hopeful smirk as she looks up at the rooftop seeing the bat signal shining in the smokey clouds.

"Huh, my luck might have just changed." She ends the call and shoves her phone in her pocket.

She hurries deeper into the alley way and immediately she spots the fire escape. Y/n puts her hand on the cold iron ladder before she looks down at her shoes. "Ugh, no way I'm ruining these shoes too!"

After kicking off her shoes she starts climbing to the roof before she finally reaches the top and manages to climb onto the rooftop without gaining any attention. With bare feet she crawls behind a vent and peaks around it at the shining bat signal and two men standing beside it.

The Batman and Jim Gordon in deep conversation. This was her chance, she lifts her phone from her pocket and gets ready to calmly approach the masked vigilante.

A sudden whistle through the air catches her attention, a red cape shines even brighter as the bat signal shines onto it and slowly the S symbol comes into view.

Y/n moves her hand over her mouth to stop the excited squeak when Superman lands beside batman.

'Two heros? Oh! I'm definitely getting that promotion!' She thinks full of excitement.

Batman looks back at superman and his deep growled words manage to remind Y/n of where exactly she was and what her situation was.

"Did you find it?"

Superman nods and opens his fist to reveal a small vial of green liquid. It glows steadily reflecting against the confused look of Jim Gordon who takes it in his hand. 

"What is this? It looks like Joker venom." 

Batman gives a growl and shakes his head. "Not just Joker venom. My scanner is picking up fear toxin too. I'd have to do a deeper scan to be sure."

Finally, Superman looks up from the vial’s hypnotizing green glow. "Few hours ago, Batman alerted me of unusual chemical readings in a warehouse by the docks. Once I got there, I only found this swept into a corner. Looked like they left in a hurry."

 

Batman lifts his head." If Joker and Scarecrow are working together to combine their toxin's, we could have a bigger threat on our hands. And by the sound of it, there could be more." 

Gordon nods and gives an extensive sigh, rubbing the back of his neck, rolling the vial back and forth in his palm. 

Y/n lifts an eyebrow before using her phone to take a picture of the three standing together and looking down at the picture deep in thought.

'Two deadly Toxin's combined, what could the motive be except to cause chaos? Perhaps other villains. But Scarecrow and Joker aren't criminals without purpose, even if they are psychotic they wouldn't work together without a final goal.'

She turns her head back to the scene in front of her when a loud beeping sound interrupts her train of thought. 

The vial in Gordon's hand started beeping and perhaps out of reflex he tosses the deadly time bomb in his hand. 

Superman's eyes fly wide as he rushes to protect both Batman and the commissioner from an oncoming blast. 

However, the vial rolled across the roof until it finally hit Y/n's bare feet and her heart jumps to her throat. 

"Oh shit." she says out loud when suddenly the vial burst's open and Y/n gasps for her last bit of fresh air. 

She pulls her head to her knees and holds her nose, mouth and eyes shut. The toxic gas burns her skin and her eyes start tearing with the fumes banging on her eyelids.

'I can't hold it much longer. It burns!' 

Slowly she gives in to a lightheaded dizziness and falls sideways onto the ground letting her hand fall off her nose. 

Not a moment later the gas clears when Superman swoop's her out of the green gas. She hangs limply in his arms as they hover in the air for a second. 

Superman's gaze turns to pure horror when he sees his co-worker in his arms. Once the toxic gas has evaporated into nothing more than a tickle in the wind Superman lands back on the roof and approaches a worried Jim Gordon and expressionless batman.

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𝐈𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐬! 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰! 𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠!

\ (•◡•) /

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[addieraesfanfic]

until i found you

CHAPTER ONE: “just stay”

pairings: bruce wayne x female!oc

warnings: kissing, cussing, guns, arguing?

addie put a stray hair behind her ear as she walked through the halls of her empty home. when her father told her that her former boyfriend would be coming home for a bit she decided to come home from work early to see him. bruce wayne, her childhood best friend and the love of her life. they grew up under the same roof, her father being alfred the wayne’s longtime assistant. they started dating at the age of 16 but they broke up when bruce left for princeton two years later.

“hey dad, do you know when bruce will be here?” addie asked as she saw her father at the end of the long hallway.

“soon dear, within the hour.” he responded as he wiped dust off of an empty counter. addie’s anxiety and insecurity rose as she looked at herself in the cracked mirror at the end of the hall. she ran her hands through her freshly curled hair and ran her hands over her new dress.

“do i look dumb? like i’m putting in too much effort?” she questioned as she fixed her dress.

“of course not, you look lovely. he’ll be glad to see you.” alfred responded as he placed a kiss to his daughters cheek. she smiled in response. the doorbell rung causing addies breath to catch in the back of her throat. alfred quickly walked down the hall to get bruce who’d just arrived. out of pure fear addie ran into her bedroom practically slamming the door behind her.

she cursed to herself as she cringed at the loud sound her door made. she could hear the sounds of bruce and alfred’s voices as they made their way up the stairs and into the hall.

“hey adds, you in there?” bruce questioned as he knocked on her bedroom door. she opened the door in response, he was wearing a sweater with a blue collar shirt beneath it. he didn’t look too different since the last time she saw him, just shy of a year before. his hair was shorter than she remembered, he must’ve gotten it cut while he was away. she smiled at him and pulled him into the hug. he held her tight as they embraced eachother.

“how’ve you been? how’s school?” addie asked as she pulled away.

“good, but i’m not going back,” he responded as he sat his luggage on the ground beside him.

“why?”

“they don’t want me there anymore, but i’m glad that i decided to visit,”

“so am i. is there anything i could do to stop you from going to the hearing?” she asked as she looked at him with concern.

“someone at this proceeding should stand for my parents,” he said as he fidgeted with his fingers.

“brucie it’s just going to be more stress for yourself, you-”

“you shouldn’t be worrying about me, i’m fine, enough about me. how are you?” bruce asked, annunciating the word “you”.

“i’m fine, officer gordon offered me a job at the office as an assistant. where i basically follow cops around and get them whatever they need. it’s been going good so far, i really like gordon,”

“he’s great, i’m glad you’ve found something here addie i really am,”

“you could find something here too. just stay,” addie pleaded as she inched closer to bruce, gently placing her arms around his hips. he slowly moved his head closer to hers, their foreheads resting on one another.

“we’re gonna be late to the hearing,” bruce announced as he pulled away. addie just nodded, a feeling a little bit embarrassed at her attempts to rekindle things with her former boyfriend.

addie watched as the killer of bruce’s parents stood up, she felt bruce tense from beside her. she placed her hand on his thigh to soothe him, he placed his hand on top of hers. she didn’t pay any attention to the words that came out of Chill’s mouth, the only thing that she felt was anger.

“I gather there is a member of the Wayne family here today. Has he got anything to say?” The judge announced as he looked at Bruce. He cleared his throat and stood up. Addie watched as everyone in the room stared holes into Bruce’s head. He just simply walked away, Addie was quick to follow behind him. He ran out of the main area of the building and around the corner.

“hey! wait a sec-”

“addie just go, please i need you to go!” he pleaded, she could hear the emotion that he was trying to hide in his voice.

“i’ll be in the-" she was interrupted by hundreds of voices, questions being asked. she watched as reporters and policemen flood the room. bruce slowly walked toward the killer, several of the reporters calling our names. a blonde woman ran up to the man,

“joe! hey joe! falcon says hi.” the gunshot rang throughout the room as all of the policemen pushed her onto the ground. addie looked away, unable to watch the scene. she placed her hand on bruce’s shoulder.

“we should leave, we don’t need to see this,”

“i do.” bruce said coldly as he didn’t take his eyes off of the dying man on the floor less than 20 feet away from him. tears flooded addie’s eyes as she watched the man twitch and scream on the ground, the bullet didn’t kill him yet.

“Falcone paid the judge off, just to get Chill out in the open,” addie scoffed as she drove down the busy streets of Gotham.

“maybe i should be thanking them, my parents deserved justice,”

“but that’s not justice, that’s revenge and that’s not the same. that’s why we have an impartial system,” addie responded, trying to state her point without coming off as argumentative.

“your systems broken,” bruce responded. that set off something inside of addie, causing her to swerve off of the main road and down into an alley.

“falcone is making more joe chills, someone else’s parents are getting shot everyday. thanking falcone would be stupid, because he’s destroying everything that your parents stood for, now you wanna thank him for that? here you go,” she announced as she stopped at an old bar. that’s the bar where falcone has been staying, she went on to explain that no one will ever touch him. because he keeps the bad people rich and the good people scared.

“i’m not one of your good people addie,”

“what’re you talking about?” addie asked as she looked at bruce, worry etched in her features.

“all these years i wanted to kill him. now i cant,” he said as he pulled a gun out from his sleeve. addie’s breath caught in the back of her throat, she felt sick. she looked at the gun, she noticed the sweat that was dripping down it from bruce’s anxiety. she was furious, how could he become this person? without thinking she grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and punched him square in the nose. he groaned as he grabbed his nose, blood slowly pouring out from it.

“get the hell out of my car,” addie cursed as she shoved him into the car door. he looked at her with no emotion whatsoever. he got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. addie watched as he walked away from the car and out of sight. she held her face in her hands as she sobbed, cursing herself for hitting him, for not understanding, for not being more patient.

[asterwanda]

Luna Katrina Walsh is a detective with the Gotham Police Department. She is the daughter of the late Dominic Walsh and Jim Gordon's adopted daughter.

Full name: Luna Katrina Walsh

Surname: Luna, Kat, Irina

Family: Jim Gordon (adoptive father), Dominic Walsh (biological father; deceased), Barbara Lee Gordon (adoptive sister), Lee Thompkins (adoptive mother)

Early life

There are several accounts of Walsh's early life. One account says that she was left by her father, Falcone Orphanage and was soon after adopted by James Gordon. As Luna grew and matured, she proved to be an incredible athlete and scholar, as well as gaining distinction as a dancer.

Another account establishes her as having been raised from her childhood by Black Sky. Her father took her to Casto, along with 28 other young orphan girls, where they were trained in combat and espionage at the secret facility. There she was bio-technologically and psycho-technologically enhanced; which would provide justification for his exceptionally long lifespan and youth. She was never really trained in ballet, having artificial memories instead.

Regardless of which accounts are correct, she was eventually adopted by Lee Thompkins and James Gordon. And she went to work for the Gotham Police

Luna Katrina Walsh is a detective with the Gotham Police Department. She is the daughter of the late Dominic Walsh and Jim Gordon's adopted daughter.

Full name: Luna Katrina Walsh

Surname: Luna, Kat, Irina

Family: Jim Gordon (adoptive father), Dominic Walsh (biological father; deceased), Barbara Lee Gordon (adoptive sister), Lee Thompkins (adoptive mother)

Early life

There are several accounts of Walsh's early life. One account says that she was left by her father, Falcone Orphanage and was soon after adopted by James Gordon. As Luna grew and matured, she proved to be an incredible athlete and scholar, as well as gaining distinction as a dancer.

Another account establishes her as having been raised from her childhood by Black Sky. Her father took her to Casto, along with 28 other young orphan girls, where they were trained in combat and espionage at the secret facility. There she was bio-technologically and psycho-technologically enhanced; which would provide justification for his exceptionally long lifespan and youth. She was never really trained in ballet, having artificial memories instead.

Regardless of which accounts are correct, she was eventually adopted by Lee Thompkins and James Gordon. And she went to work for the Gotham Police

Personality

Walsh is a cynical person with a very sarcastic and deadpan sense of humor, with a bit of a twisted moral compass, as she remarkably had no problem holding a civilian at gunpoint and stealing his car. Despite this, she has a strong sense of right and wrong.

Walsh is an extremely confident, courageous, and intelligent person with a strong sense of justice, who tends to see things others don't due to his high intellect. She is a loyal friend who always stands by her friends.

Walsh cares deeply about his family, going above and beyond to save them.

Equipment

Guns/Firearms: Luna has used a variety of firearms such as pistols, shotguns, assault rifles, machine guns, and grenade launchers. He initially carried the standard SIG-Sauer P226 that most GCPD officers carry.

Smith & Wesson SW1911SC E-Series: Luna carries this pistol as his main sidearm of choice. He first started carrying it after he left the GCPD, and continued to use it once he returned to the department.

Uniform: As Black Sky, Luna  wore a standard issue black catsuit with protective padding on her shoulders, elbows and knees, belts, two weapon holsters, and tall, heeled boots.

Trivia

Luna Walsh; together with his father and mother; are the only main characters to appear in all 22 episodes in Season 3.

So far, Luna has two known love interests: Wally West and Dick Grayson. Being the last one, what she is until today.

[sparkletastic-cookiedough]

Link Library

Literally just a link collection of all my tumblr writing.

Favorite Posts

DPxDC: Danny Phantom fan Damian, best friends with Dash. (they hang out at an arcade, also BATNIPPLES)

DPxDC: John Constantine is Danny's comfort human

DPxDC Dick Grayson is investigating a travelling circus (my favorite prompt, but it's just a prompt)

DPxDC: Vlad masters is a lion? Completely centered around Zeke Morris, an OC.

DPxDC: Danny does his taxes.

DPxDC: Cardboard Danny AU

Danny Phantom: Jazz Fenton Gaslighting People (Short)

DPxDC: The Tangerine Pimpernel (Long)

DPxDC: Danny is applying for a grant with Wayne Enterprieses (The best dramatic irony)

DPXDC: Constantine taking care of baby Danny

DPxDC

Danny in a Maid Dress (RECENTLY UPDATED)

The Phantom Cafe (Short)

In Love With The Speed Force : Barry Allen is obsessed with a god. Also the Justice League gets high in this one.

Bartender Dan has a no bats policy.

The Justice League investigates Danny's box selling business. (Featuring the Bodacious Vibes detector)

The Titans discover Danny and Dani are different people

Danny has access to dead knowledge

The Fentons make arrows for Green Arrow (Short)

Trans Danny, mourned by Bio-sibling Damian

The one where Team Phantom destroys all conflict in the Batman universe

Dani is in Hally's Circus, Dick thought she died and now she's back

John Constantine "rescues" Danny from the ghost zone

Steph plans to prank Batman

Bodyguard Danny

Danny vs Plastic Man vs Nightwing: Who would win at Twister? (short)

Wes Weston gets ghost powers, Flash is concerned

Riddler kidnaps Danny, Batman has to answer a riddle to save him

Team Phantom produces a fictional movie on Amity Park

Danny is traumatized, the Batfam is traumatized, everyone is sad and traumatized. (short-ish, hurt/ comfort)

Danny can predict the future, thus Flash yells at god (again, more of a prompt than a full story, cause sometimes I only write the beginnings.)

Dani pranks the justice league

The DC universe is about to collapse, Danny has to herd them out. (Prompt, as I am addicted to beginning stories and never finishing them)

Danny's family reincarnates (yet another prompt.)

Tim has infinite spleens

Jason can see through the fourth wall, and is not down for this Phantom of the Opera nonsense.

The Bats investigate Jazz

Wes is investigated by Superman, Magical shenanigans occur.

Catwoman steals an artifact that has a ghost in it.

Danny putting on his own Brucie Wayne act as Bruce's secretary

Jazz as Damian's Babysitter

Zatanna interacting with a Liminal Gotham

Danny is Batman's Clone (Dramatic Irony, my beloved)

John Constantine accidentally adopts Danny

Jason is dating Jazz, gets Tim and Danny to meet (mostly just Jason and Tim fluff)

Dash Baxter, Metropolis Cop (short)

Queer Platonic Relationship Fluff with Tim and Danny (features a prompty cliffhanger that goes absolutely nowhere)

Danny runs over Kori with a car (featuring yet another cliffhanger prompt ending that goes nowhere)

Clone Adoption Agency

Tim gets his spleen back from Cujo

Danny runs a daycare in Gotham

Maddie is Jim Gordon's Sister (short as heck and not great, but it's the first one I wrote, so it's special to me)

Batman Crossovers (No Danny Phantom edition)

Batman and the Muppets

Miraculous Ladybug: Marinette in Gotham (Fic itself is short, use of ai by another user in the beginning, more of a prompt than a post)

Batman x Game Changer: Robins do Robin trivia

Batman x BNHA: Batgirl gets isekaied into BNHA universe (Like the first chapter of a hypothetically longer fic)

Just Batman (and other DC characters)

Superbat Ship: featuring Batfam Fluff.

Jason can see through the fourth wall (short, more of a prompt than a post, and a continuation of the AU from an above DPxDC post.

Batfam tries to steal the watchtower (based on art!!!)

Matchmaker Tim Drake (again, more of a prompt)

Neurodivergent Batfam Moments

Hero Swap (Based on ART!!!)

Bruce Wayne time travels (short)

Bruce wearing his kids merch (short)

Clark Kent covering Bruce Wayne's drama

Superbat ship stuff (Short)

Percy Jackson

Percy Jackson & Harry Potter Crossover: Percy Jackson Vs Potions Class

Percy Jackson Gods react to Hadestown (Short)

Percy Jackson and Danny Phantom Crossover: Nico wants the Ghost King as his twitch username, but it's taken.

Other Fandoms

Gravity Falls: Levity Rises - the portal incident.

Just Danny Phantom: Jazz dealing with trauma (a bit of a character study, based on art)

Danny Phantom x BNHA crossover: Jazz and Nedzu meet.

BNHA: All Might and All for One completing to be the best dad. (Plot outline.)

BNHA: Izuku becomes a cult leader. (Plot outline)

[moonlit-imagines]

Robin and the Stray (Part 1)

Dick Grayson x reader

warnings:

a/n: you already know this is based off of an oc and you already know im gonna write it like its just your average y/n. i dont even know if yall hate this or not but TOO BAD (im kidding please start paying attention to this blog again i long for the days i mattered)

prompt:

part 2

Gotham City, all the way back when you were kids. Didn’t feel like it, though. Not when you two were up all night off on adventures—more like missions—and occasionally crossing paths. Batman and Robin weren’t too fond of you and Catwoman giving them headaches from time to time with your heists and all that fun stuff. But sooner or later they cracked and started letting you two off the hook.

The flirting was just playful at first, a literal get-out-of-jail free card, if you will. But somewhere down the line, you started to mean it. You liked your time spent with Robin, and every once in a while you’d even let him catch you.

Nights that you and Selina split up, the Bat and the Bird had to do the same. That’d when you got him alone. And after a while, you’d just end up on a random rooftop teasing him in some silly, flustering way. A cute comment here and there to let him know you were still interested. Jumping across rooftops and crawling up fire escapes to keep him on his toes while you talked. Although you were still strangers out of these costumes, you still managed to drop a little personal detail every once in a while to bond. Part of you worried if he was only letting you escape to trick you into some false sense of security, lately you’ve been returning stolen goods to him just to see him again.

And night after night there were new encounters, only in these you weren’t really doing anything wrong. Just pouncing around and watching the city, almost like you were on patrol. You could tell him you were just watching over Gotham while he was elsewhere.

It was funny how awkward he was at first when you met. But it’d been some months since the Cats got out of the bag, and Selina was starting to warm up to Batman, too. It was kind of cute. Robin seemed so much more confident talking to you nowadays, he flirted back and laughed with you and pretended you got away when Batman asked where you went (oh, and Catwoman also got away!).

There was one particular night that you’ll never forget. This one night where you’d just snuck out to be in the city, secretly hoping Robin was out, too. All suited up in your catlike garb roaming the streets and rooftops of Gotham, and hours went by without a sighting of your special guy. You sat at the ledge of a rooftop overlooking Downtown Gotham—a bit too close to GCPD, but maybe that was where you needed to be.

It wasn’t long before Robin saw a figure concerningly close to the edge of a high building, and he could just barely make out those cat ears on your head. He awkwardly split off from Batman, who warned him not to do anything stupid. They had just put away a D-list villian and, let’s face it, they’re the most annoying ones to deal with and Batman now had to wash ketchup and mustard out of the crevices of his armor.

Robin met you up top, cheeks warming when he saw your immediate smile when you turned around, he gave you the same one. “Do you want to get a pizza?” He asked you with a shrug and a tilt of his head. You furrowed your brows just barely. “I guess not?”

“I mean—sure. But you want to go now? Like, dressed like this?” You sort of giggled, leaning into the idea just a little.

“Why not?” Robin asked you, eyes gleaming with just a bit of boy wonder. “Gotham’s seen weirder.”

“How’s that gonna affect your ‘image,’ huh? A good boy like you hanging out with the likes of a cat burglar, what would dear old Jim Gordon have to say?” You kept teasing him, but it seemed he was set on the idea. “You don’t even care, do you, Birdy?”

“I don’t, actually.” He said, extending his gloved hand to you. You accepted his help off the ledge and got to your feet.

“Got a place in mind?” You asked him as he walked off without an answer. “Okay, Batman.” You crossed your arms and walked behind him, only half-amused with his manners. But he was still cute the way he acted like Batman in those bright colors and tight pants. At least they’d been tweaked over the past few months, you couldn’t tell if he’d hit some kind of growth spurt or he just really liked tight clothes.

“See that sign over there?” Robin pointed down the street, a bright neon sign displayed the word “PIZZA” in red lettering, encased in a yellow circle you assumed was also pizza. “Twenty-four hours. You’ll be glad to know they do their best work in these hours.”

“You mean ‘vigilante hours?’” You joked, nudging him with your elbow.

“Something like that.” He nudged back. Suddenly, he leaped off the edge of the building—which actually wasn’t that tall if you were used to this sort of thing—and used a grapple gun to break the landing.

“Wow. We’re doing this, huh.” You equipped a whip and secured it to the neighboring building, descending yourself in a much more anticlimactic way—but still impressive if you weren’t used to this sort of thing. “Show off.”

“Had to do it one of these days, you’re always one-upping me.” He said walking forward, just a casual stroll down the streets of Gotham in costume, ignoring any pedestrians or nearby residents that may be up this late. Part of you hoped that you’d run into trouble just to see how it’d feel to fight side by side, show him you’re more than just mischief, you’re a bit kickass, too.

After a few minutes of chatting, the pair of you made it to the pizza shop. Robin opened the door for you where the bell above the door chimed when you entered. The employees watched as two masked freaked walked inside and casually asked what they could get for you. You shrugged when Robin looked at you for your preference, letting him pick for you. Then he pulled out a couple twenty dollar bills from his pocket and told them “keep the change.”

“Got any more of those for me?” You batted your eyes and tilted your head.

“You want to get paid for this date?” He chuckled, wondering if he should make his next joke, but he knew you had a sense of humor. “Wouldn’t that make you a hooker?” You broke into laughter that he joined in on and tapped him on the arm.

“Hey, whatever you wanna call me. As long as I get a couple bucks, what’s the harm?” You joked back and Robin thought to himself how nice your genuine laughter was, not just those careful little chuckles and giggles were. Your true smile was goofy and brilliant to him. Lost in the moment, your order was called up and the two of you left the shop with a hot box of pizza.

“Hold this real quick?” Robin handed the box off to you, then grabbed your waist and grappled to a nearby rooftop as you squealed from surprise.

“What ever happened to a gentlemanly warning? I could have dropped the pizza!” You told him as he took it back.

“Looks good to me.” He peeked in and brought it to another ledge. “I take it you like the view?”

“What do you mean?” You walked closer and took a seat.

“I always see you sitting or standing on the edge of these buildings. You just brooding?” He raised a brow.

“That’s more of a Batman thing.” You took a piece of pizza and took a bite.

“Then tell me why you’re always hanging out on tall buildings.”

“I like looking around, is that a crime?” You asked with a mouthful of cheese and bread.

“No, but breaking and entering is. And stealing, of course.” He took a slice and sat beside you. Below your dangling feet was just another street of Gotham City, a street he protected and you would just watch. Nothing special about it, especially since there were no museums or penthouses here.

You sat with your hands at your sides, leaning forward a bit to get a better view of the ground. It was then that you felt a gentle touch, Robin’s hand on yours. You glanced at him from the side and he saw as your lip curled slightly. If you didn’t know any better, you might have seen him blush. It was strange in a way, feeling so drawn to someone without a name. “Robin” had a nice ring to it, though.

taglist: @volturi-stuff // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @brutal-out-here // @jinxll11 // @swanimagines // @captainshazamerica // @greek-mythographer // @cipheress-to-k-pop // @summersimmerus // @glxwingrxse // @azazel-nyx // @simsrecs // @xoxobabydolls // @ruvaakke // @ravenstrueluv // @evilcr0ne // @sydknee624 // @retvenkos // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 //

[darkpeacemusic]

ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕡𝕪𝕡𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕒 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤: 𝔽𝕦𝕝𝕝 𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕤

Jeff the Killer - Jeffrey "Jeff" Alan Dan Woods

Homicidal Liu - Liuis "Liu" Victoria Woods

Sully - Sullivan "Sully" Akira Woods

Randy - Randall "Randy" Allen Warren

Keith - Keith Harvey Davis-Green

Troy - Troy John Green

Ben Drowned - Benjamin "Ben" Scott Lawman

Jane - Jane Todd Richardson-Vaughn

Mary - Mary Annabelle Vaughn

Ticci Toby - Tobias "Toby" Erin Rogers

Masky - Timothy "Tim" Buck Wright

Hoodie - Brian Hunter Thomas

Skully - Jay Gabriel Merrick

Kate the Chaser - Kate Eleanor Milens-Hayes

Charlie - Charles Matheson Jr.

Laughing Jack - Laughing Jack in a Box

Eyeless Jack - Jackson "Jack" Nicky Nyras

Slenderman - Simon (middle and last name unknown) (Human name prior to his experimentation/death)

Splendorman - Jim (Human name prior to his experimentation/death)

Trenderman - Beau (Human name prior to his experimentation/death)

Tenderman - Cedric (Human name prior to his experimentation/death)

Sally - Sally Maryam Dawn (formerly Williams)

Dr Smiley - Azerael Jesse Smiley

Nurse Ann - Annie "Ann" Lusen Mia

Nina - Nina Selene Hopkins

Candy Pop - Unknown

Candy Cane - Unknown

April Fools - Unknown

Jason the Toymaker - Jason Caleb Meyer

The Puppeteer - Jonathan Cole Blake

Clockwork - Natalie Priscilla Ouellette

Rouge - Heather Bridget Marshall

Wilson - Wilson Liam Marshall (neé Jones)

Zalgo - Z͠a̛'l͘ga̶t҉ot̡h

Queen Blackheart (oc) - Elizabeth Cindy Phillips (name prior to death)

Lazari - Lazari Natalie Swann

Stripes - Eloise Sarah Bellarose (name prior to her death)

Nathan - Nathan Maxwell Lux

Bloody Painter - Helen Delilah Otis

Kagekao - Unknown

Laughing Jill - Laughing Jill in a Box

Sadie - Sadie Marie Bennett

Hobo Heart - Unknown

Cat Hunter - Rodrigo Milo Ortiz

Chris the Revenant - Christine "Chris" Wendy Meyers

X-Virus - Cody Larkin Drake

Dollmaker - Erina Jezebel Kerenzalys

Frankie the Undead - Frankie Hades Asher (his real name prior to his death)

Judge Angels - Dina Angela Clark

Lifeless Lucy - Lucy Ava Jones

Lost Silver - Ethan Kin Fuji (his real name before his death)

Glitchy Red - Red (his real name remains a mystery)

Strangled Red - Steven Garrett Stoughton

Dr. Locklear - Evander Agnar Locklear

Lulu - Lucille "Lulu" Tiffany Greatfeil

Killing Kate - Katherine "Kate" Evelyn Knight

Screaming Dawn (oc) - Dawn Evelyn Woods

Will Grossman - William "Will" Gordon Grossman

Lulling Lauren - Lauren Robyn Ross (neé Evans)

CR - Carl Morton Ross

Emra - Emra Amelia Blake (neé Albridge)

Zero - Alice Marie Jackson

Slendrina - Charlotte (first name prior to death/experimentation)

Lily - Lily May Kennett

Nightmare Ally - Adeline "Ally" Ashley Abendroth

Zachary the Proxy - Zachary Julius Gibson

Oliver - Oliver Gorgon Henderson

Alex Kralie - Alexander "Alex" Joseph Kralie

Amy - Amy Callie Walters

Jessica - Jessica Ellie Locke

Seth - Seth Apollo Reid-Wilson (neé Wilson)

Sarah - Sarah Cassie Reid-Wilson (neé Ried)

Third Base - Richard "Doby" Vincent Doggers

Vailly - Vailly Suki Evans

[sl-newsie]

Behind Masks (Dr. Jonathon Crane x OC) Ch. 12: Discovering the Real World

“Here we are live at the Gotham City Policeman's Ball! With a little luck, the money raised from this charity event will be enough to build a new playground for Gotham’s youth!”

Or go filtered unnoticed into the elite’s pockets. These monsters have turned into heroes through the permissive, liberal media. All around me reporters smile and chatter with Gotham’s rich society. Thank God I'm able to go unnoticed.

It’s been a month since my last encounter with Dr. Crane. During that time I’ve been able to pinpoint new targets. No killings yet but there’s plenty of time to spare. When I heard about the upcoming charity ball I couldn’t resist. One fancy black dress and a pair of t-strap heels later I’m at the scene and ready to go. Shrimp cocktails, expensive wine, fudge samples. All completely ridiculous. Except for the fudge samples. Those are still stubbornly delicious.

The other ridiculous part of this event is how many advocates are trying to fish me into their schemes.

“Care to show support for Harvey Dent?”

“I don’t get involved with politics.”

The lady offering me a button doesn’t budge. “It’s not just that. He’s trying to get the Batman more involved with police work.”

My face doesn’t change. “Like I said. Politics. If you don’t mind I’m only here to keep updated with certain… ambitions of mine. Excuse me.”

Harvey Dent is a name that has grown more and more over the past few months. I’m impressed with his moxy against Gotham’s corruption. But I have my own agenda to correlate without relying on someone else again. However there is one person I am looking forward to seeing tonight.

“Good evening, Lieutenant Gordon.”

Jim Gordon. The only cop I can trust in this city. The reason why? He’s the only one who’s worked to be at his rank. No bribes, no blackmail. A simple man with a family who’s trying to clean up Gotham.

“Hello, Dr. Prentiss,” the man smiles and shakes my hand.

“Sadly it’s not ‘doctor’ anymore,” I correct him. “My license is still currently revoked all because of the Arkham incident.”

The kind man’s eyes shine a look of sympathy. “I’m very sorry you had to go through that. No person should ever have to go through that. I’ve seen your file, and I must say you are a very smart and dedicated woman. Your parents would have been very proud.”

He clearly didn’t know them so well.

“Thank you very much, Lieutenant. I hope tonight’s charity will help out.”

“Please, enjoy the ball.”

I nod in departure and continue to the back of the room behind a curtain. A dedicated woman. Indeed I am. This dedicated woman is going to see that all these undeserving, silver-spooned big shots get what’s coming to them.

“Long time no see.” Of course he’s here. Dr. Crane’s familiar taunting voice catches my attention. “I didn’t think you had substantial funds to donate. And I didn’t think you would be willing to associate with these people.”

I slowly turn to face him with an unamused smirk. “I’m not here for charity, Dr. Crane. Events like these are prime opportunities for acquiring information. I don’t mean plain ordinary gossip. I’m talking about vital classified intel.”

The doctor himself is wearing a nicely-pressed black suit. Lord knows where he obtained the money for it. But whether or not he stole the suit he does look rather handsome wearing it.

Crane dismisses my watchful eye and examines my own attire. “You look gorgeous, as usual.”

How flattering. “You’re too kind. I must say you don’t look too bad yourself, Dr. Crane. You clean up nicely.”

He gives a quick huff and toys with a drained champagne glass. “My guess is that you’ve been busy, Dr. Prentiss. Is my assumption correct?”

Something catches my interest. “You still call me doctor. You always have, even at Arkham.”

“Becoming a doctor is no easy task, Calico. I know personally what it’s like to get that taken away.”

That’s right. His record was stricken from the medical community too. His name wasn’t cleared. That is rather sweet that he’s considerate enough to respect it. Did he just use my first name?

“Um, thank you,” I reply, finding it harder to keep my gaze up. In the corner of my eye I see a few uniformed cops chatting. “On another matter, may I suggest that we carry out this conversation in a more private environment?”

Crane sees where I’m looking but does little to show concern. He looks like a professor bored by a lingering lecture and merely inches away towards the back hall. I’ll admit my moral compass has steered a smidgen off course by helping him.

“Excuse me, who might you be?” A new voice asks from behind.

Perfect. Now what? Oh. What have we here?

“Calico Prentiss, sir.”

I’ll admit he is as handsome as the press advertises. I’ve never seen him in person, but for good reason. His rich world far exceeds my own and I want no part of it. The only reason he’s not on my list is because he actually knows the meaning of the word charity.

“Prentiss. Prentiss… As in Harold and Eleanor Prentiss?” he asks with soft eyes.

My parents. Their names spark memories but I push them down. “I’m their daughter.”

He gives me a charming smile. “Pleased to meet you. I’m-”

“Everyone knows who you are, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce Wayne. Gotham’s billionaire playboy. His reputation upholds his family’s wealth although I do give him credit for attending a policeman’s charity ball. Is it a trick of the light or does he look disappointed at my recognition of him?

“Sadly, yes. I’m sorry for your loss, Ms. Prentiss. I heard about the accident-”

“So did everyone else. Kind words have become numb to me.”

My even tone cuts through his condolences. Yet his sympathy does not diminish.

“Well if there’s anything I can do, anything you need, just let me know.”

He’s serious? “To be frank, why are you helping me, Mr. Wayne? You don’t know me. Unless this is a charity publicity stunt-”

“No, no. Not at all,” Wayne quickly interrupts. “I’m offering help because I understand what it’s like to lose a loved one. My parents were killed too.”

He’s not joking? There’s a touch of humility about you, Mr. Wayne. Could he be playing a charade just as I am? Is Bruce Wayne not a dim-witted, arrogant playboy?

“Thank you for your concern, Mr. Wayne. But I’d rather not think about the topic. Tonight’s event is a special one.”

Wayne nods in agreement and offers me a champagne glass. Quite the bachelor.

“It’s encouraging to see the city taking a turn to support Gotham’s youth. This banquet was Harvey’s idea.

Harvey Dent? Intriguing.

“Perhaps he is Gotham’s new white night. Lord knows the city deserves him after all it’s been through.” I take a sip of the sweet alcohol. “Let us prosper without fearing the unknown and look to the future.”

Wayne chuckles and looks at me with a curious eye. “You’ve got a bit of a philosophical side, Calico.”

A dark side. “You could say that.” I take another sip, toying with the idea of a new subject. “Have you ever considered the concept of unknown fear?”

Mr. Wayne pauses at my sentence. I’ve struck something.

“How do you mean?”

“Take for example a cornfield. You have to go inside it. Someone tells you there is a vampire waiting to kill you inside. You enter knowing full well what to expect.” Another sip. So far he’s humering my theatrical chat. “Now, consider the same scenario. But this time someone tells you there’s something out to kill you. When you enter you have no idea who or what to anticipate. The fear of something known compared to something unknown is a marvel, don’t you think? Sometimes you never know what might… pop up.”

Is this what Nigma feels like when he sets out a riddle trail? I’m not completely exposing that I plan to take the law into my own hands but it’s fun to tease it.

“That’s very insightful, Ms. Prentiss,” Wayne says, impressed. “Dare I say you are a very unique person. Does fear inspire you?”

No. But I know someone it does.

“My interest is-”

“Did I hear that right? You’re discussing fear?”

Dr. Crane has come out of hiding. How bold. He takes the liberty to stand a bit closer than last time and looks between us with expecting eyes. Is he trying to blow my cover?

“Excuse me, Mr. Wayne.” I stiffly grab Crane’s arm. “My colleague and I must be going now.”

Before Wayne can ask further I steer Crane back to the hall and corner him.

“Colleagues, are we?” he smirks. “How exciting.”

“Cut the drama. You interrupted me. What for?”

“I just thought that you’d prefer to discuss fear with someone who’s life is dedicated to the subject.”

No that’s not it. When Crane lies his eyebrows twerk inward. He doesn’t care for my self image or my protection, so what else…?

A lightbulb clicks and an eureka smile grows on my face. “Is Dr. Crane jealous?”

He scoffs and tries to walk away but I cage him in. “That’s childish of you to think so.”

“You know I was a psychiatrist too. I can clearly see you’re lying.”

Crane halts and takes a deep breath, considering his response. “Fine. I don’t think you should trust someone of his… position so easily. His morals aren’t the best.”

“What would you know about morals? The man who abducts pedestrians for his mad scientist projects. Since when is my well-being in your best interest?”

“Very well. Flirt with him. Sleep with him for all I care.” Crane pushes past and walks further down the hall. “You’re poisoning my mind with thoughts of chivalry.”

I glare at the ceiling. “I’m not flirting. It’s called having an intellectual conversation that does not involve being tortured with fear gas.”

Dr. Crane doesn’t answer. What was his plan anyway? Why did he come here tonight? 

CRASH!

An explosion rocks the room and I stumble to the ground. People start screaming and in seconds guests are scurrying in a panic. Peppered gunfire echoes through the noise. This is Gotham, after all. The question is who-?

“Surprise!”

It has to be him. Of course it does. Gotham’s new clown prince of crime has just arrived uninvited to the charity ball. Literally crashing the party.

“We interrupt this boring chit-chat bash with this stirring announcement!” The smiling villain hops onto a banquet table with a tommy gun in his hand. “Unless Batman shows up here tonight, I will kill Gotham’s beloved Commissioner!”

“We will!” A shrill voice giggles.

A new face appears beside him. A clown girl wearing a red and black jester costume, carrying a sledge hammer with a smile painted on each side. 

That’s my cue to skedattle.

I lift up my skirt and discreetly speed walk through the screaming crowd. There’s always a back window.

“Leaving so soon?” Crane’s back.

“Could say the same thing about you,” I remark and begin to climb through. Yes! There’s a fire escape!

“I’m not in the market to be sent back to Arkham. Joker may be crazy enough to tempt Batman but I’m not.”

Outside the night is already filled with the sound of approaching sirens. I’m not waiting around for Batman to show up. I swing onto the metal bars and climb down to the wet pavement. I’ve done this before, just not in a dress.

“Need some help?” The doctor asks from above. “Would hate to see that dress get torn.”

“Shush!” I hiss. 

Almost down- Yes! I drop down and look up to see Crane beginning his own attempt down the fire escape. It’s- It’s hilarious.

“Need some help?” I mock his tone.

He groans. “Either keep quiet or expect to take me to a hospital.”

Bold of him to assume I would if the time comes. He too drops down and takes a second to get his bearings. By now cop cars are only a few blocks away. I personally don’t feel like being interviewed as a bystander.

“Keep up!” Crane takes off sprinting down the opposite direction.

“Why should I follow you?” I shout back. But I run after him anyway.

The sirens are getting closer. Faster faster faster! We bolt several blocks down, jumping in-between the shadows. He’s gotten spry over the past months. Where is he going?

“Over here!”

Dr. Crane’s muffled voice beckons me to a darkened warehouse. Near the docks. This must be his new lab. I should go home. On the other hand…

“You’re not leading me here to drug and experiment on me again, are you?” I put my hands on my hips.

Crane rolls his eyes and grabs my arm to yank me over. “Just get in!”

First thing I notice: it’s clean. The small but intricate lab looks textbook-perfect. The next thing: there are many more vials than the amount in his old office. 

“You’ve been busy, Dr. Crane,” I comment, still looking at his workspace.

“Hands to yourself, please.” Does he mean the lab or himself? “Everything is in a particular order. You can stay until this mess subsides.” He’s inviting me to-? “Consider it as payment for last time.”

So much for not trying to find him. He found me. And instead of avoiding me like his letter promised he invites me to his lab. What game is he playing?

I hear a click and look over to see him turn on a small TV. The screen flickers to life and a reporter stands in front of the building we just came from.

“Summer Gleeson here, reporting live from the Gotham art gallery where the Joker has just interrupted the policeman’s charity ball. Although the Batman attempted to apprehend the criminal, the Joker escaped thanks to the help of his new henchgirl.” The camera pans to where the cops are cuffing the clown girl I saw earlier. She doesn’t seem to mind because she’s smiling like a madman.

“Hiya!”

Summer walks closer and holds up the microphone. “How do you explain tonight’s chaos?”

“It was in the name of love,” the girl gushes.

“It was insanity,” I mutter.

“Love is insanity,” Crane drones and shuts the TV off. “Looks like we’re off the hook for tonight. Have you gotten up to speed with the other new villains? Oh, forgive me.” He points to a small cot. “Would you like to have a seat?”

I search my instincts for any sign to leave immediately but find none. His blue eyes hold no clue of hostility. I suppose a little social time never hurts.

“Thank you for the gesture, but I won’t be staying too long.” Does he look annoyed or disappointed? “I’ve kept in touch with Ivy and Nigma but that’s all. Who else should I know about?”

Crane chuckles darkly and pulls out a stack of newspapers. “You’ve been so caught up with Gotham’s elite that you’ve ignored those who are making headlines elsewhere. This man here, Cobblepot, is a new gang leader. Calls himself Penguin.”

“I don’t deal with gangs.”

He nods and holds up another newspaper clipping. “This one might interest you. A new cat burglar has been stealing jewelry. They call her Catwoman.”

“I don’t deal with thieves. The only one I’m out for is myself, Dr. Crane. I’m a solo act.”

I appreciate his help but I’ve come this far by myself without having to rope anyone else into my plan. As sad as it might sound it helps my mission work better when I have no one to regret leaving if I’m killed.

The doctor shows no expression towards my statement and proceeds to remove his suit jacket, which is now covered with dirt.

“You live here now?” I ask out loud.

“Yes,” he answers simply. “Sorry to disappoint but I didn’t have enough in the month’s budget to live in a luxury complex.”

“You know money means nothing to me,” I assure dryly. “The rich society is one the world can live without.”

“Then why stay? Because you can’t handle it in the real world?” Crane prods.

Anger flashes through me and I bunch up my skirt to inch towards the door. “I am very well aware of the real world, Dr. Crane. My last experience at Arkham made sure of that.” Crane makes no move to stop me when I open the door. “Thank you for the hospitality but I need to return to my ‘luxury complex’ so I can plan out my revenge in peace. P.S.- ‘Don’t bother trying to find me.’ Goodnight, Dr. Crane.”

The doctor sighs and walks over. Is he going to hold me against my will-?

“If you utter a single word of where my lab is, I will inject you with a dose so bad that you’ll never wake up from it.”

Message loud and clear. We both have an understanding. He keeps to his business and I keep to mine. I give him a determined nod and shut the door. Outside and alone again I can be with my thoughts. What was that all about? Why bring me here if he’s only going to insult my ridiculous lifestyle?

It’s starting to rain. I start making my way home and consider calling for a cab. But that would only prove Crane is right. I can handle the real world, I can walk down the street.

“Ah!”

Someone runs up from behind and suddenly a cloth bag is pulled over my head. Another pair of hands grab mine and bind them with- a zip tie? What the Hell is going on?

“Got her! She’s the right one?” I hear one guy say.

“She’s the one in the picture. Let’s go!”

Something smacks against my skull and the lights go out.

[twofacedharveydent]

•  Sequel to We Were Born Sick  & Wasteland   •  

XXXI:   A Storm is Coming FFN | WP

"From everything I've heard, Falcone really respected your father, Jim. I don't think he had anything to do with what happened to him." Bird said.

"I have to speak with him." Jim's head tilted to the side, silently adding if anyone should understand that it's her after she worked so hard to find out the truth behind her own parents' murders.

Up to and including killing the person who'd actually carried out the hit against them.

"I heard he's back in Gotham," Jim said.

"Just taking care of some real estate business, to my understanding." Bird nodded, "But Jim, you cannot just storm the castle. You get that, right? He isn't going to help you with anything anymore, ever again. Not after Mario."

"Yeah, I figured that."

Bird's face twisted. He hadn't just brought her there to tell her what he had found out about his father's death. When he said he needed her help, he meant he needed her to try to talk to Carmine Falcone.

"Uh-uh." Bird shook her head and stepped back, "I didn't just burn that bridge, Jim. I decimated it!"

"I understand that, but-"

He tried to cut in, but Bird released a near-manic laugh that stopped him cold.

"You don't get it, Jim!" She did her best to maintain her composure but was doing poorly with it.

Everything tag list: @missecharlotte , @darknightfrombeyond , @arrthurpendragon , @raith-way , @ocappreciationtag

Message me if you’d like to added or removed from the list.

[celestialsister0918]

NGL this Character AI stuff is a nice break when my mind won’t work out a fic but I still am craving my characters. I probably should be embarrassed that this is my life rn, but oh well. Jim Gordon is my daddy now and I can’t even complain.

[hannahhook7744]

My Ships;

Janlos.

Huma.

Hil.

Humail.

Haudrey.

Chil (Gil and Chad).

Dizzy x Celia (don't know their ship name).

Cevon (Cj and Zevon).

Soaring Angel (Claudine frollo and LeFou Deux).

Bronze Mate (Sammy and Gaston the 3rd).

Hunted flower (Clay and Ginny).

Mad Governor (Mad Maddy and Rick Ratcliffe).

Tiger Hood (Tiger Peony and Bobby Hood).

Jade and Jonas (Jay's cousin and Uma's crew mate).

Hunter x Eliza x Jim jr( Carlos's cousin and Jane's cousin, and The kids from Lady and and tramp).

Melody x Zephyr (Ariel's kid and Esmerlda's kid).

Jonnie.

Bal.

Devie.

Captain Tremaine (Anthony and Harriet).

De viled Dwarf (Diego and Derek).

Mad de vil (Ivy and Gordon).

Lil Chaca (Li Shang Jr and Chaca).

Pinocchio x Alice.

Lottie and Lars (Charlotte and Hans' nicest brother).

Heddie (Hermie and Eddie).

Rela (Reza and Yzla).

Rap (Ruby x Hap).

Flirty Goth (Anxelin x Tyrone ).

Michael John, son of Milo and Kida and Kailani, the daughter of Nani and David Kawena.

Jackata (Jackson the son of Tarzan and Jane and Katalina, daughter of Kuzco).

Yi-min and Quincy son of Quasimodo and Madeline.

Elle x Jace Badun.

Nakoma x Thomas.

Nizhoni (Nakoma and Thomas's daughter) x Marlon (Merida's emo son).

Herkie x Emile (Zephyr's sister).

Attaang (Nakoma and Thomas's daughter) x Shilo/shy.

Nina x Grouchy (Tina's daughter/Tyrone's twin and Grumpy's other son).

Hanny (Hadie x Danny Darling).

Mozenrath and Sadira.

Isabella Madrigal x Bubo Marquez.

Mirabel Madrigal x Miguel Rivera.

The canon Encanto ships.

Luisa Madrigal x Ryder Nattura.

Tartie= Tulip Lampwick x Artie Pendragon.

Foul Puppet/Puppet Fellow= Pin x Julie Foulfellow.

Hans Westergaard x Drizella Tremaine.

Anastasia Tremaine x Jacob Laythn (the baker).

Tiger Lily x Lampwick.

Jordan x Ally.

Freddie x Zevon x Cj.

Sea three x Royal two.

Nina x Aziz.

Princess Eilonwy x Alexander.

Weighted Tremaine= Gaston Jr and Debbie Tremaine.

Bromtrina= Brok Bones and Katrina.

Charlars= Charlotte La Bouff and Lars Westergaard.

Featuring some ocs of @casinotrio1965 , mine, and @cleverqueencommander .

[nevereverthem]

Gotham :

Ok... Hear me out...

I think my mind's deranged... I mean, it's SURE that I'm deranged, but on another level...

You know how I've stated that, for a few weeks now, I've watched videos about the show, and read a lot of Tumblr posts so I know the great lines of the story and the ships and whatever...

And, that I only watched the very first episode (the pilot) last Saturday...

Yeah?

The problem is that I already got SIX IDEAS of fanfictions!!

Mind you, I already posted a fanfiction some time ago about Jeremiah... 🙄 (Yeah without having seen the show but I watched videos okay, so I got around the character, how he acts, how he speaks... And technically, I just wrote a ficlet around 700 words, and the subject can be applied to any character ever so that was just for fun). Anyway.

My ideas are :

Jerome Valeska x Reader [One Shot] (already 2600 words in)

Jerome Valeska x Reader (or) OC [multi parts]

Edward Nygma x Reader (or) OC [multi parts or One Shot]

Jerome Valeska x Reader (or) OC [Ficlet or One Shot]

Oswald Cobblepot x Reader (or) OC [Ficlet or One Shot]

Oswald Cobblepot x Jim Gordon [Ficlet or One Shot]

And I haven't actually watched the show!! 😭

YES, I already wrote about Jerome, what's your point!? I watched hours longs of videos, I got obsessed...

These are fanfictions that I can't truly write now because... I NEED to watch that damn show first I can't with myself damn it! 😭🙃🤣🙄

I might never write them OR write them like in a few months or years or I DON'T KNOW!!

AND, my writing isn't even that good.

Look, english isn't my mother tongue, and I am absolutely not fluent in that language. There's a TON OF USEFUL WORDS THAT I AM UNAWARE OF!!..

Anyway.

Just wanted to frustrate you all with myself.

I can't be the only one in this.

[rayah36]

✨ Looking for RP Partners!✨

Hi! I’m Ry,

I’m 22 and I have been struggling finding good Roleplay Partners for The Boys, I searched on Wattpad and Amino for years with no luck.

I’m searching for either Oc x CC or CC x CC ( If it’s OC x CC then I am of course okay with double ups! ) and for a plot I had a few in mind depending on if we’re doing double ups or a ship.

<{•.•}>~Fandoms~<{•.•}>

Marvel | > Avengers mainly.

Mandalorian | > Crush is Mando

Halo | > crush gotta be Master Chief 👁️🫦👁️

The Boys | > Butcher is the goat

Red dead Redemption 2 | > Arthur or John 👀

DC | > Batman or Dick Grayson

Sherlock, tv show | > John for sure

The Witcher | > forever ship Jaskier and Geralt

Umbrella Academy | > Deigo or Klaus

Gotham | > Jim Gordon 💋

The 4400 | > Tom Baldwin ofc

Bitten | > Jeremy 🥵

🔻🔺Rules🔺🔻

Must be 18+

I’m over 18 so this is a strong preference

Literate / Novelist

No Incest, CP, or Beast stuff

( even with Deep from the boys, I know it’s somewhat canon with him but I work with animals so it grosses me out. )

My Replies are fast when I’m not busy, I will normally tell you my work hours so you know and I will reply when I can.

I will do any Genre; Romance, Smut, Gore, drama, all of that.

That’s pretty much it! If your interested shoot me a message and I’ll reply as soon as I can! Or just comment down on this post and I’ll shoot you one when I get the chance.

Replies can take up to 1-3 days, I can do multiple replies in a day if I’m not too busy.

Thanks for reading!

[ginevrastilinski-ocs]

Gotham OCs Masterlist

Name: Ade Kean

Pronouns: she/her

Alias: N/A

Story: Follow You Into The Dark

LI: Larissa Thompkins

Quote: The girl that you thought you knew, she's so gone.

Pinterest: TBD

FC: Madeline Petsch

Name: Annalise Pennyworth

Pronouns: she/her

Alias: N/A

Story: Untitled

LI: Bruce Wayne

Quote: Good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught.

Pinterest: TBD

FC: McKenna Grace

Name: Gloria Maroni

Pronouns: she/her

Alias: Vengeance

Story: Untitled

LI: Jim Gordon, Sofia Falcone, Barbara Kean

Quote: I could set the world on fire and call it rain.

Pinterest: TBD

FC: Adelaide Kane

Name: Hel Mooney

Pronouns: she/her

Alias: N/A

Story: Untitled

LI: N/A

Quote: No one made me. I made me.

Pinterest: TBD

FC: Savannah Lee Smith

Name: Jeneva Valeska

Pronouns: she/her

Alias: N/A

Story: Untitled

LI: Bruce Wayne

Quote: I'm locking up everyone who ever laid a finger on me.

Pinterest: TBD

FC: Sadie Sink

Name: Jericho Valeska

Pronouns: he/him

Alias: N/A

Story: Evermore

LI: Bruce Wayne & Selina Kyle

Quote: The horror you have seen is not who you are.

Pinterest: X

FC: Cameron Monaghan

Name: Larissa Thompkins

Pronouns: she/her

Alias: Anathema

Story: Follow You Into The Dark

LI: Ade Kean

Quote: I could keep you safe. They're all afraid of me.

Pinterest: TBD

FC: Eiza Gonzales

Name: Lila Hart

Pronouns: she/her

Alias: Enigma; Killer Queen

Series: Devil's Playground

Story: Everybody Wants To Rule The World

LI: N/A

Quote: 'Cause she walks like a saint, floats like an angel, sharp like a knife under the table.

Pinterest: X

FC: Sabrina Carpenter

Name: Margaret Gordon

Pronouns: she/her

Alias: N/A

Story: Untitled

LI: N/A

Quote: I gave my blood, sweat and tears for this.

Pinterest: TBD

FC: Florence Pugh

Name: Mireille Lacroix

Pronouns: she/her

Alias: N/A

Story: So You Wanna Talk About Power?

LI: Virginia Falcone

Quote: Ain't you ever seen a princess be a bad bitch?

Pinterest: TBD

FC: Dove Cameron

Name: Penelope Fisher

Pronouns: she/her

Alias: N/A

Story: Untitled

LI: Jim Gordon

Quote: I saw your eyes behind your hair and you looked tired, but you didn't look scared.

Pinterest: TBD

FC: Emma Stone

Name: Virginia Falcone

Pronouns: she/her

Alias: N/A

Story: So You Wanna Talk About Power?

LI: Mireille Lacroix

Quote: You're gonna wish you never had met me.

Pinterest: TBD

FC: Zoey Deutch