#oc: valeska

[a-drama-addict]

she only got one ear and it’s a fucking big one babey

[qranta]

Disturbed

@vixy-ki

[qranta]

@vixy-ki

yesterday’s attempt at fluff because why not!! I’m not pretending to be sane or consistently good at art anymore

[aldermoth]

General Valeska

[clericxhood777]

Part Ten

[knoepfl]

Laugh Until It Hurts

Characters:

Reader – Former circus clown, once joyful and full of light, now twisted by Jerome's relentless manipulation.

Jerome Valeska – Gotham’s notorious madman, obsessed with breaking down Reader's innocence to reveal the darkness underneath.

Trigger Warnings:

themes of psychological manipulation

kidnapping

non-consensual experimentation

loss of identity

mental trauma

Masterlist

Words: 1231

---

You woke up in darkness, the weight of confusion pressing down on your chest as you blinked into the dimness. The room around you felt like a stranger’s nightmare. Bare walls closed in around you, cold and damp, drawing a shiver that clung to your skin, gnawing at your sense of reality.

How long had you been here? Days? Weeks? You couldn’t say. Time had warped into a blur of shadows and insanity. Memories of laughter and light—the circus tent, children’s smiles, the joy you’d once known—felt so distant, they might as well have been someone else’s. You couldn’t even remember what your own smile had looked like.

And he was there, just outside your field of vision. Watching.

“Ahh, my little sunshine is awake!” Jerome’s voice sang through the room, a sickly-sweet tone dripping with mockery. He stepped into the light, his face twisting into a manic grin that stretched his lips wide, a sight that had once belonged to someone familiar but now looked like a mask.

He leaned forward, his sharp green eyes piercing through you as he tilted his head, examining you as if you were some strange insect. “How’s my favorite clown?” His grin widened as he saw you flinch. “Feeling a little dim today, aren’t we?”

You swallowed, trying to ignore the bile rising in your throat. He had always been quiet back at the circus, a boy overshadowed by shadows in his own mind. But you pitied him, tried to offer him comfort, though his gaze always unsettled you. You remembered catching that look a few times back then—too intense, like he was studying you, waiting for something he couldn’t yet name.

But pity had turned into something else entirely the moment he’d dragged you away, chaining you to a world crafted by his sick mind. Jerome had broken down every piece of you, pulling apart your joy and light, tearing through each shred of happiness like it was something he could dissect.

Yet, he wasn’t finished.

“Look at you…” he murmured, leaning close, his breath brushing against your skin. “All that cheer, all that sunshine—gone.” His eyes sparkled with a twisted satisfaction. “You’re a work of art now, my dear. Almost like me.”

“No… not like you,” you mumbled, voice raw and cracked. It felt strange to speak, like trying to remember a song you’d long since forgotten. You barely recognized the sound.

Jerome chuckled, stepping back and watching you with a smirk that made your stomach twist. “You keep saying that,” he mused. “But here you are, right where I want you.” He snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Where *you* belong.”

Your head pounded as memories—real or imagined, you couldn’t tell—flashed through your mind. He’d been relentless, experimenting with your psyche, pushing you to places where darkness crept into the cracks of your mind. He was always watching, waiting for each fracture, every crack in your sanity that brought him closer to his goal.

Some part of you wanted to hate him, to fight back, but the rest of you felt too exhausted, too worn down to remember how.

“Come on,” he said, a dangerous smile spreading over his face. “Let’s see that happy clown of mine. You used to be so good at making people laugh. Let’s show me that beautiful little act.”

You wanted to resist, but some part of you—whatever was left—felt compelled to obey. Your arms lifted, slow and unsteady, as you stretched your mouth into a smile, hollow and fractured. You moved with jerky, exaggerated motions, mimicking the carefree routines you used to perform at the circus, but there was a shadow over it now. Each gesture felt like a distortion of who you’d once been.

And Jerome was delighted.

“There it is!” he crowed, clapping his hands in delight. “The sunshine, the laughter—all twisted up just for me.” His voice was thick with mock adoration, his eyes gleaming with something darker, something possessive. “Oh, I’ve waited so long to see you like this.”

You bit down on your lip, trying to hold back the shudder that threatened to escape. The sting of pain was grounding, a tether to a version of yourself you couldn’t quite let go of. But each day, each twisted performance made it harder to hold on. The old you was slipping, fading into the shadows, a stranger’s memory.

“Jerome…” Your voice was barely a whisper, a ghostly echo of what it used to be. “Why… why are you doing this?”

He cocked his head, feigning confusion, though his grin betrayed his amusement. “Why?” he repeated, chuckling. “Why wouldn’t I? All that joy, that innocence of yours... it was *sickening*. You thought you could pity me, huh? Poor, sad little Jerome?”

His laughter filled the room, loud and unhinged, bouncing off the walls as he leaned closer, his eyes glinting with that wild, uncontrollable energy you’d once thought you understood. “No, sunshine. I didn’t need pity. I needed someone who could see the *truth*.”

You shivered, shrinking back. But even as you tried to retreat, the part of you he’d molded, the piece of you he’d twisted and broken, craved his approval, needed it. That dark, fractured piece felt like it was growing, a sliver of his chaos digging into your mind and taking root.

His voice dropped to a low, menacing whisper as he moved closer, his fingers brushing over your face. “But look at you now,” he purred, his voice a poisonous lullaby. “All broken and beautiful… just for me.”

He caught your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him, his face inches from yours. “Say it, sunshine,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “Tell me you’re just like me.”

Your heart pounded, each beat a reminder of what you once were. But the words slipped out anyway, a hollow echo. “I’m… just like you.”

Jerome’s grin widened, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. “There’s my little clown,” he murmured, pulling back with a smirk. “Let’s see that smile.”

With a shuddering breath, you forced yourself to smile, the motion twisted and broken, as though you were wearing someone else’s skin. Jerome’s laughter filled the room once more, his applause loud and mocking as he watched you contort yourself into his perfect little masterpiece.

And there, in that fractured grin, you felt it—the crack in your mind widening, the last piece of yourself slipping away, swallowed by the darkness he’d planted inside you. A new laugh bubbled up in your throat, a low, sinister chuckle that was nothing like the one you used to know.

It was his laugh, echoed through your voice, and Jerome looked like he’d won the world.

“See?” he whispered, almost tenderly. “I knew you had it in you.” He leaned close, his lips brushing your ear as he murmured, “And now, you’re mine.”

His words were like a binding spell, sealing away whatever remnants of joy and innocence you’d once had. But as his laughter filled the room and yours joined it, there was a new sense of freedom, twisted and broken but undeniable. The old you had died in his hands, but something darker had taken its place—something that no longer feared the shadows but reveled in them.

And together, you laughed, the sound twisted and haunting, echoing through the darkness as if it could devour the world.

---

Author’s Note:

Thank you for reading! I wanted to explore a darker, psychological take on Jerome's character and how he could twist the mind of someone who once brought him light. The Reader’s descent into his world represents both a loss of innocence and a transformation that she might not even realize she’s undergone. Jerome’s character is one of manipulation and chaos, so it was interesting to show how he’d "reshape" someone who once pitied him into something that mirrors him. Please feel free to share your thoughts on this twisted journey, and stay safe!

[ficklefics]

It would be fun for you to write a long lists of what you love vs what you hate when it comes to Jerome Valeska fanfictions and why you feel that way 🤪

is this ask from last summer? yes. am i only answering it now? also yes. hopefully the asker still follows me.

please remember that these are all just my opinions and it’s totally fine to disagree. a lot of it comes down to the characterisation of Jerome, which I feel a lot of writers oversimplify

let’s start with what I don’t like (cause that’s easier):

one of my biggest frustrations are fics where it’s like “reader is a high school student/nurse at arkham/police officer who is actually super insane except shows no sign of that at all ever”. can they be done well? sure. but I rarely see it. one fic that I read years ago had the reader as one of the cheerleaders on the bus in s2ep2 and she hands Jerome a lighter because… why? never really clear. in general, the ordinary person who is actually the perfect type of insane for Jerome to be interested in as opposed to just killing is rarely done right for me

I hate when Jerome in a fic is poorly characterised. by that, I mean just behaving sporadically in a “the writer doesn’t know what they’re doing way” as opposed to “he’s insane”. it’s a difficult line to walk

now, don’t get me wrong. i like a lil smut. well written smut. but it’s difficult to write Jerome smut well. a very core element of his character, established very early, is the fact that his mother’s sexual activity defos traumatised him and was key in pushing him over the edge. a Jerome who’s just banging left right and centre isn’t a Jerome that’s in character for me

now onto the likes (a lot of which are just the inverses of the dislikes):

the best thing a writer can do (for me) is have a clear idea of who Jerome is in their mind and in their fic. like I said above, there are lots of different ways to portray Jerome, and it’s not my place to tell people what’s right or wrong. I’d much rather read a consistent Jerome that isn’t how I imagine him than a wibbly wobbly noncommittal Jerome

in a similar vein, fics where Jerome is actually a bad person who does bad things. commit crime! relish in people’s suffering! but do them in interesting ways.

I love a fic where we get of vulnerable Jerome. not every fic needs this, but depending on the context i really enjoy getting to see writers interpretations of what that looks like, especially given that we don’t get any of it in the show really

again, these are all just my own thoughts. there’s a lot of nuance and a lot of fics out there. stuff I used to love I hate now, and stuff I once hated… I usually still hate tbh. read the fics you love and write the fics that make you happy

[annastaciarose]

Arkham needs a REAL barber.

I can tell that he’s been putting efforts for his hair to make sure it looks good, at least at his own taste, and it works for me.

But what if he got a horrible haircut?

S3 he got a very different haircut which is short and shaved half of his head, I’m not saying it’s horrible but it was quite shocking to see at first (obsessed later, ofc). But what’s the reason? (Regardless of the actor himself. ) A change of taste? An accident? Or do they have dressing code in Arkham now? Or could also be a fresh start.

*the rest contains self ship head canon (just some brainstorming).

I wonder did they consider cut his hair when trying to stitch his face together. “Doctor’s orders, good for your face.” Think Anna would laugh at him for this but secretly adore to this chicken nest hair cut.. (because I really love this unusual look in a way that turns me on.) And it actually makes sense if it’s Anna who had his hair cut, as for a little revenge for him locking her up in the trunk before the show. Yeah.. not exactly what she had in mind for the celebrating his resurrection or even for him as a person, but hey, if you failed to save the game history, you get to play it again like a new game.

art by me_ @annastaciart

[a-drama-addict]

thought real hard and now Valeska and Naerra are siblings. Naerra the failed and disgraced oldest child vs youngest prodigy daughter Valeska

[sakuralee-f]

THE OC NOW YIPPIE

⚠️GOTHAM SPOILERS AHEAD⚠️

Cringe culture is dead, let me make my stupid lil self insert oc’s

[theriddlersunderwear]

SINCE I'VE ALREADY GOT SOME INTEREST

My Gotham OC is named Mavis Zane Cooper. He moved to Gotham from the Midwest and started working as Oswald's personal bodyguard. Boy is constantly subjected to gay panic, usually from Oswald, Victor, and Edward. He kinda adopts Jerome???? He meets him and is like "You are my little brother now" and Jerome just rolls with it.

He gets poisoned by Jeremiah while trying to avenge Jerome. Oswald goes on the fucking WARPATH trying to get Hugo Strange to revive him. Literally keeps Mavis's body Snow White style in the Iceberg Lounge

[rainbowaudi]

My httyd Self Insert Valeska Audun ♡

[nosuda-cringe]

AND SILLYS WITH @rainbowaudi AND @artinandwritin

plus aito and gustav being pals thats so silly to me

[wiildthiing]

So I’m here now. Have some ocxcanon :3

[ladycerise]

Porque insoporto no poder hacer una edición decente de padre e hija (porque el material es escaso y me dan ganas de agarrarle otro rostro a Viktor pero como es Ryan Gosling y NO TIENE DE EPOCA, me queda llorar). Así que decidí dibujarlo. Well, lo iba a dejar sin color, pero como le quise pintar solo los ojitos a la Valeska, me terminé obsesionando con terminarle de dar color aunque me ha dado toda la paja mental hacerlo perfecto. Seguramente el día de mañana no me guste (porque le veré muchas fallas), pero lo importante es la intención :D También no quise dejarlo con un fondito sobrio, así que pretendí dibujar un background que sé que está todo cutre. Ignórelo o aprécienlo en su máxima cutrez.

@bei-xxx para ti, maldita

[clericxhood777]

Part Seven