#riddle x gordon

[riddlegordon]

LOOK AT HIS DAMN FACE WHEN JIM ANSWERS HIS RIDDLE, THAT MAN IS HOME OF THE SEXUAL, LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT, RIDDLEGORDON IS REAL PEOPLE!!!! OPEN UR EYES

[onmyyan]

Ain't no sunshine

A/N: neglected reader x yandere batfam part one if y'all like this I'll continue it feedback always welcome 🤗 part 2

Your mother always spoke so fondly of your father, this certain warmth fell over her whenever you asked about him, as if he was the great love of her life, but even at your young age, you could also sense the heavy air of sadness around her whenever you brought him up.

As a child, your curiosity about the man seemed to be never-ending, it didn't help that your mom talked about him, about how you'd meet him someday. She inadvertently set you up, instilling you with this unfortunate expectation of him being just as excited to meet you as you were him.

Having the city's most famous bachelor as a father felt like some weird dirty secret. Seeing him on TV with his adopted kids- how happy they looked filled you with such a profound sense of longing, a feeling you were far too young to understand. TV was the only reason you could even put a face to a name, he was constantly in the news. Your childlike curiosity and fondness for the man soured with each view of him wrapped around some model or cutting some stupid ribbon where the crowd around him applauds every time he so much as shifts.

Your mother never badmouthed him despite the way he so clearly abandoned her, she had this fantasy where he'd come walking in the door declaring his undying love, over the years you learned to simply smile and nod, you knew it was a delusion.

She never allowed herself to move on, it was something you'd forever hold against the man. He'd ruined your mom in a way she was incapable of recovering from and that alone had Bruce on your bad side long before the unfortunate day you were dropped in his life.

The woman loved and raised you as best she could but a single mother forced to support herself through her pregnancy, could only do so much. In truth, you'd been forced to grow up long before you were dumped at Wayne's doorstep. Your sweet mother had been caught in the criminal underbelly of Gotham, something that seemed to happen to many good people in this town, she turned to unsavory means to provide for you and it caught up with her quickly.

She worked double shifts so most days you had to walk home alone, thankfully the local scumbags of your neighborhood had a soft spot for the woman and in turn, you. Despite how dangerous and crime-riddled your neighborhood was, you never felt afraid walking home, not until the day the firetrucks went screaming past you, something about them had your stomach sinking, your little feet pumping faster towards your home, you smelled the smoke before you saw it, and you'll never forget the sight, how dark it made the already grey Gotham skies, how horribly loud the sirens were, the way your neighbor picked you up, shielding your eyes as he pushes you into his chest. You can still remember the heat from the flames as they consumed your small home. You stood unmoving, unblinking as the roaring fire destroyed everything you'd ever known.

To make matters worse, Jim Gordon, the chief of police happened to be the cop on call, and because of that he inevitably noticed something in your eyes, something in your face so strikingly familiar, that despite this being your first meeting, he could feel in his gut he knew you. It bothers him so much that he follows his hunch and does a blood test the second they get you to the station, his theory is confirmed when your DNA comes back matching the Playboy of Gotham City

Jim tries to comfort you but he knows you'll never be the same after losing your mother. He takes you straight to Bruce's door hoping your Father could help soothe the unimaginable hurt you were going through.

Bruce had no idea how to deal with you. In his defense, you happened to come into his life broken, needing guidance and parental love, at the worst possible time, the same day you're plopped at his feet is the same there's a massive breakout at Arkham, the casualties are already in the fifties, not to mention how high that number would jump the longer he left his more worrisome foes out.

In this mess of emotional turmoil, the last thing Bruce needed was a kid plopped in his lap, but it's what he gets. He was seconds from suiting up when Jim dropped you off.

With some half-assed excuse, you don't even really register, Bruce ushers you inside by the wrist only to drop you off with Alfred, he bolts to the batmobile in an effort to not waste any more of his time, knowing he could be saving lives.

He swore to himself once he fixed this problem, he'd give you his full attention, after all, he knew exactly what you were feeling right now, all the confusion and guilt, the anger and despair, he knew he was the one to comfort you, who'd be able to give you the support you needed.

The thing is, problems in Gotham are never truly quite fixed, are they?

Alfred doesn't know anything about your situation other than that you were Bruce's daughter, he can tell you're traumatized by the glossy look in your big eyes, how you limply held his hand as he showed you to the kitchen, he treats you kindly, speaking softly and getting you settled in your too big room in your too big bed, it felt so bare, so empty, it made that hollow feeling in your chest deeper.

This is the first of many nights you cry yourself to sleep.

The next day Bruce officially introduces himself, sitting across from you at a large table, the distance feeling three miles long. You numbly eat, taking small bites, not truly hungry, but you didn't want to hurt the nice Butler's feelings after hearing he made every elegant dish before you. You're still quiet and don't look happy to be here but you respond when Bruce asks you questions, wanting to be cooperative, because, despite the hellish situation, you need a parent right now.

He can only offer you this brief moment of connection before he's called away, Batman's job was never truly over after all. He gives you a stiff pat on your shoulder before leaving, it's the most he's touched you since you've come here.

At that moment, swallowing how uncomfortable you were in your new situation, you stop him with a gentle tug to his arm, eyes teary and wet, your young mind needed the comfort of a trusted adult, needed someone to look at you with a warm smile and tell you it was all going to be okay, but you can't ask for it... The words dry and shrivel on your tongue, so instead you simply stare at him, eyes full of a mix of emotions, silently pleading for him to stay, to hold you, anything, other than walk away.

But he doesn't, what he does is give you that perfect T.V. smile, the one you grew up seeing him give at charity galas and somehow it felt warmer through the screen, he removes your hand gently, "I'm sorry (Y/n), I really have to go, if you need anything at all Alfred can help you out okay? I'll be home soon." The smile he sends you doesn't reach his eyes as he rushes to exit, this is the first time your father breaks your heart.

The second time he breaks it is when he introduces you to some of the rest of his family. Dick Grayson needed no introduction as his adoption into the Wayne family had been heavily televised, his face was the one you were most familiar with, despite this, it was still odd to meet someone you'd grown up watching on your old little television with envy in your (e/c) eyes, the feeling of otherness was only amplified as you walked into the manor's dining room on what looked like a sweet familial lunch, the dark-haired man opens his mouth to greet you but is cut off by Bruce's stern voice, "(Y/n),

The third time Bruce breaks your heart is when Damian arrives, he shows up a good year after you, by now your were closest to Alfred, you'd made a habit of texting Dick and Barbara updates on Bruce and the homes state, considering they didn't live at the manner like Tim, and only ever rarely received texts back from Barbara.

The moment you meet your younger brother you can sense the difference between the two of you instantly. He looks like Bruce, standing tall despite being shorter than you, he turned his nose up at you as Bruce introduces him. Dick is there too, which makes things worse because of the visible effort he's putting into Damian.

You do your best to try to befriend him at first, offering to show him around the large manner to which he scoffs. Like you've offended him with your question.

"As if I need a nobody like you to show me around my home." He never hid his feelings of disdain, often and frequently letting you know just how inferior to him he thought you were, granted at this point Damian thinks this about most people, but it still felt like a knife twisted in your gut each time he ruthlessly rejects you.

It doesn't help that Bruce seems so eager to spend time with him, how they're always together when you had to fight him to spare you five minutes, they bonded so fast, it made your insecurities bubble over each time they scurry off together in a rush, you once grew brave enough to ask them if you can join but the second the request leaves your lips, Bruce is shutting it down.

"I'm sorry, I have business at the office I need Damian for, next time." Bruce says as they leave, his smile just as empty as his promise, the smug look Damian gives you feels like gravel and dirt being smeared into your carved open flesh.

You try to talk to Dick whenever he comes around, one afternoon, the rain is so heavy in Gotham you decide to stay home, a small voice inside you cruelly reminds you it was also a cheap ploy for some kind of attention from Bruce, by the afternoon you figure the school has alerted him of your absence, deciding to face whatever consequences awaited you, you go downstairs, subconsciously keeping your footfall light, a nervous habit you picked up after Damian said you shook the whole house when you walked.

You overhear him talking with Dick in the kitchen when you tiptoe down the stairs, you were quiet, so quiet they don't hear you, "How's the case going?" There was always this audible warmth in Bruce's tone whenever he spoke to Dick, "Fine, I got a lead I'm pretty confident with, gonna-" He stops talking as you step on a creaky floorboard. "My department is pretty confident that is." You round the steps with a small smile, but only Dick returns it.

"Hello, how've you been?" you'd ask earnestly, "Good thanks!" he'd say, but that would be it, the friendly man was never mean to you per se, he just had this terrible habit of forgetting you. You kept to yourself a lot, seeing you so rarely it felt hard not to forget when he had so much going on, not only in Bludhaven but Bruce had been calling him to Gotham more and more to help deal with Damian, he had his hands full, not to mention the sudden rise of crime in Gotham.

Barbara likes you, she really does, but being Oracle took up every moment of her free time, she was a focused woman and people in this town always needed her help. She had a room in the manner dedicated to her vigilante work, the villains were getting bolder and more frequent in their attacks and Bruce needed her help constantly. And it wasn't just him calling on her skills, everyone was constantly asking her for things because they knew she could get them, that's just how she was, everyone but you.

Whenever she was in the manner working, you were always the one to tell her dinner was done or remind her to drink water, and bring her coffee when she hadn't left her office all day, you were reaching out in a way that didn't overwhelm her, like you could see she was stressed, but she was like a horse with blinders on.

Tim meets you while he's still neck deep in his search for revenge against captain boomerang, which unfortunately means he's short-tempered and stuck in a permanent work mode, he's cross with his close family, so it's no surprise he's even quicker to anger with you, you're intentions are as pure as can be, you see him awake late into the night, his bedroom door open, and say genuinely, "It's so late Tim, maybe you should try to get some sleep-"

"Maybe you shouldn't stick your nose where it doesn't belong?" He snaps back without so much as looking away from his screen, he was already on edge, defensive as Bruce had been nagging him all day not to overwork himself, he says this with pure venom, so much irritation and malice it makes your bottom lip wobble, he doesn't see the way you flinch at his anger, the way you sink into yourself.

It seemed like each time you tried to reach out to them, to bridge the obvious gap between you, it just made things worse. His comment hit you like a bus, only furthering the nasty idea that had been gnawing at you since you'd arrived, you didn't belong here.

You didn't belong with them.

When you meet Jason, it's about a year and a half into your stay, you were in the same uncomfy position in terms of your closeness with the Family, or rather lack thereof, and the day you meet, things are bright for the first time since you've moved in. You're in the kitchen making yourself lunch when he stealthily climbs in through the window, this scares the shit out of you, having never met him before, you brandish your peanut butter-covered butter knife towards him, "Woah! Easy there, I used to live here I swear." Jason says clearly amused by your fierce stance, he smiles at you with a warmth you'd grown unfamiliar with, "Shit- sorry I thought you were a burglar or something." You say laughing off your nervousness, dropping the knife in the sink as he leans against the counter.

"And if I was..you planned on buttering me to death?" He teases, you feel yourself snort before you can stop it, "Maybe, consider yourself lucky we never have to find out." This makes Jason chuckle under his breath, it still felt extremely weird for him to be back here, just recently becoming cordial with Bruce, but he enjoyed your company. nonetheless.

"You're (Y/n) right? Bruce's newest kid?" He notices the way your smile falls, how you turn to finish making your lunch, the mere mention of his name seems to deflate your once bright aura. "That's me." You seem to say this with a heaviness that doesn't belong on someone so young, "Who are you?" He scoffs lightly at your question, before leaning over, swiping half of your sandwich with a playful grin, "Wow, they didn't tell you about me? Figures, whatever, I'm Jason." He shakes your hand, and for the first time in years you feel good like you weren't on the edge of fucking something up, but then Jason's watch beeps and he leaves. He gently ruffles your hair, "Good to meet you kid, see you around yeah?"

Jason was like the sunshine breaking through the clouds of your new life, but eventually, his own life gets busier and busier, his monthly visits turn into a short call every once, and not long after, even that stops, he's busy ripping Gotham criminals to pieces, consumed by his rage. He just assumes you're fine, that everything is okay, after all, you never complained about it.

You know something is going on with them, their hushed conversations and seemingly never-ending parade of bruises and mysterious cuts start to add up, the way they disappeared at night, but it's only on your fifteenth birthday that you finally figure out what they'd been hiding. Bruce and Damian suddenly rushed away from your birthday dinner, you turn on the news as Alfred boxes up the mostly untouched food, watching you blow out your candles with a sad smile., Bruce and Damian's portions go cold and untouched.

Batman and Robin arrive on the scene just a few minutes after your father and your younger brother dash away. it's only then do you really notice how similar the dynamic duo looks to your two family members.

This is the final straw, when you realize what they've been hiding under your nose this whole time is.. infuriating to say the least, all of a sudden the isolation and otherness makes sense, of course they excluded you, you weren't a member of their little club. This night is the last you spend yearning for them, the bitter, festering anger that had been building over the years only intensifies as you stew in your rage.

[blackbirdi]

Game Night (Not a Good Idea)

Brief Description: Things heard during Wayne family game night.

Point of View: 3rd Person

Word Count: 1334

Character: Batfam x platonic!Reader

Every Sunday Bruce tries to get all his kids (whether adopted or not) back to the manor for supper and a game night. And while some of the time the games are fun and a bonding moment for everyone, most of the time it's a battleground.

Things said playing: Super Smash Bros

A very pissed off Timothy Drake: DAMIAN! I AM ON YOUR TEAM; STOP PUSHING ME OFF!

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A frustrated Stephanie Brown: DODGE IT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?

Y/n L/n: *Playing the game for the first time in years* I don't know the controls...

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Jason Todd throwing his controller against the wall after his team lost for the seventh time in a row: THIS IS BULLSHIT!

***

Things said playing: Twister

A defeated before the game even begins Duke Thomas: No. Straight up, no. We all know Dick's going to win; what's the point in even playing?

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A very flexible and cocky Dick Grayson: What do you mean you can't reach the green circle? It's literally so easy!

Jason: *His eye twitching* Kill yourself.

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A tired of the complaining, Bruce Wayne: Dick, you're not playing this round.

Dick, heartbroken: What? Why?

The rest of the Batkids: *Cheering*

***

Things said playing: Jenga

Damian Wayne, who just knocked the tower over: DRAKE BUMPED INTO ME! HE MADE ME KNOCK IT OVER JUST SO I WOULD LOSE!

Tim, who is sitting over ten feet from him: What? No, I didn't.

Damian: YES, YOU DID!

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A very confused and slightly disappointed Barbara Gordon: Why did you choose that one?

Y/n, who chose the most difficult one to remove: *Practically in tears* I DON'T KNOW!

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Anyone after knocking the tower over: I fucking hate this game.

***

Things said playing: Among Us

*While they're waiting in the lobby (the game hasn't even begun)*

Tim: It's Damian.

Damian: Fuck you.

–––––––––––

Bruce, after being the first killed for the fifth time in a row: Do you hate me that much?

Steph (a crewmate): *Walking past Bruce's body and not reporting it* Yes.

Babs (a crewmate), who people are now suspecting: You're not supposed to give any hints that you got killed, Bruce.

–––––––––––

*Y/n and Cass being revealed as the imposters*

The Batfamily after being positive that Y/n and Cass were the only ones who weren't the imposters (other than those murdered): WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WERE THE IMPOSTER?

Y/n and Cass: *Cackling*

***

Things said playing: Charades

Jason, after they ran out of time and didn't guess it: *Looking at the card* What you acted out was not fucking Ratatouille.

Damian, who was very much not doing anything to hint towards Ratatouille: YES, IT WAS!

–––––––––––

Babs after picking up the most complicated things possible to act out: What the fuck is this?

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Bruce: I burned the zombie card by the way.

Jason, Tim, Steph, Damian, and Y/n: *Groaning in disappointment*

***

Things said playing: Just Dance

Cass: *Doing everything perfectly*

Everyone else: How the fuck are you doing that?

–––––––––––

Cass: *Giggling* What are you doing?

Y/n: I don't fucking know.

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Tim: HOW DID DUKE GET SECOND!?

Duke: I am the epitome of a graceful dancer, Tim. *Proceeds to trip over the coffee table and land flat on his face*

***

Things said playing: Any game involving riddles

Any of the Batkids: I CALL DUKE/STEPH!

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Bruce: *Reading a riddle that was writing in Shakespearean (ye old English)*

All of the Batkids: w h a t

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Duke/Steph: I'm telling you, it's *correct answer*

Jason: No, it's not. It's *very much the wrong answer*

Duke/Steph, feeling petty: Fine, we'll go with *Jason's answer*

Bruce: It's *the answer Duke/Steph originally had*

Duke/Steph: *Waiting for Jason to admit they were right*

Jason:

Jason, who refuses to take the blame: Jeez, you're terrible at this game.

***

Things said playing: Spoons

(if you don't know what Spoons is, search it up because I don't know how to describe it, but it is the most fun game ever and you're missing out.)

Y/n: *Holding onto the spoon like her life depends on it* YOU CAN'T GRAB IT FROM ME! IT'S ALREADY IN MY HAND!

Steph: *Clawing at Y/n's hand* GIVE IT HERE!

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Dick: *Cradling his hand* I think Jason broke my hand.

Jason, with the most "I don't give a shit" voice ever: Damn. That sucks.

–––––––––––

All the Batkids at one point: *Quite literally throwing themselves across the table to grab the last spoon*

Bruce: *Tired Dad SighTM*

***

Things said playing: Monopoly

Jason, who owns all but one railroad: I swear to God, Tim, if you land on the last railroad and buy it...

Tim, lands on the last rail road: *Buys it*

Jason: *Lunges across the table to strangle him*

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Y/n, after buying Park Place a while ago: *Lands on Boardwalk* You bitches are about to be financially murdered.

–––––––––––

*After red hotels have been added to over half the board, and there are at least two green houses on every spot*

Duke: Can I just stay in jail?

***

Things said playing: Uno

Cass: Uno!

Steph: *Places Pick Up 4 card*

Tim: *Places Pick Up 4 card*

Y/n: *Places Pick Up 4 card*

Jason: *Places Pick Up 4 card*

Duke: *Places Pick Up 4 card*

Dick: *Places Pick Up 4 card*

Damian: *Places Pick Up 4 card*

Babs: Sorry, Cass *Places Pick Up 4 card*

Cass:

Cass, trying not to fucking snap: You guys fucking suck.

(I'm sobbing. She's picking up 28 cards. NOOO, CASS)

–––––––––––

*It's down to just Tim and Damian; the others have all gotten rid of their cards*

Tim, after being skipped for the fifth time in a row: *Near tears* HOW MANY FUCKING SKIP CARDS DO YOU HAVE?

Damian: *Placing another one down* Yes.

–––––––––––

*Whenever someone wins*

The rest of the Batkids: *Starts a fist fight*

*Cue Uno getting banned from being played at a Game Night.*

***

Things said playing: Mario Kart

Babs, throwing a green shell: *Bounces off the wall and hits her instead of the person ahead of her* I'm going to kill someone.

–––––––––––

Dick: *Picks Rainbow Road*

The rest of the Batkids: Fuck you.

–––––––––––

Cass, before they start playing: Oh, I suck at this game.

Cass: *Wins over half the races*

–––––––––––

Jason: DID YOU JUST FUCKING BLUE SHELL ME!?

Y/n: Yup.

Jason: YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! I WAS JUST ABOUT TO WIN!

Y/n: That's why I did it.

–––––––––––

Steph: *Getting pissed that she got 2nd*

Bruce: *Trying to console her* It's fine, Steph. It's just a game.

Steph: JUST A GAME!? JUST A GAME, HUH!? THEN YOU FUCKING PLAY IT, BRUCE!

Bruce: *Too scared to play with his kids because of how angry he's been seeing them getting* No.

Steph: That's what I fucking thought.

–––––––––––

Y/n, after being hit by Jason's red shell for the third time in a row: *Throwing the controller at Jason* I'M DONE! I'M FUCKING DONE!

Jason: *Cackles*

–––––––––––

Tim: *Looking at someone else's screen and not realizing it* I am so good at this.

*His character is actually continuously hitting a wall*

–––––––––––

Duke: *Gets a blue shell* It's over for you, Cass!

Damian: *Uses Thunderbolt, thus getting rid of Duke's blue shell before he can use it*

*Duke, trying to stop himself from attacking Damian*

–––––––––––

Damian: *About to get first place* And victory is–

Duke: *Blue shells him* That's what you get, you little bastard.

*Damian proceeds to literally bite Duke*

––––––––––

*Bruce, trying to ban Mario Kart from Game Night*

All the Batkids: BOO! I'm not coming back if you do.

*Mario Kart has not been banned*

***

Bonus! (Involves only Babs, Dick, Jason, Steph, Cass, Tim, and Y/n)

Things said playing: Cards Against Humanity

Y/n, holding the prompt for this round: *Looking at the responses the rest gave her* You all are fucking terrible human beings.

Babs: It's a damn game, Y/n. No one actually meant it.

Dick: Hey! My card was not that bad!

Cass: Come on, it's funny!

Jason: Yes.

Steph: Thank you.

Tim: You're one to talk.

[sparkletastic-cookiedough]

Link Library

Literally just a link collection of all my tumblr writing.

Favorite Posts

Batman: Killer Croc has an egg. Bruce Wayne is the father.

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 texts Jason by accident. Technus is behind everything. (NEW)

Batfamily is infinite realms royalty, Damian tries to take advantage of that and fails.

Psychology Teacher Jazz Fenton vs Joker

Mr Lancer goes to a bar while his students visit Gotham.

Battle Coliseum

Danny in a Maid Dress

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)

Beetlejuice: cartoons episode plot outline based on someone’s art. (NEW)

[i-smoke-chapstick]

‘WILDFLOWER AND BARLEY,

-GOTHAM!EDWARD NYGMA X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; Sometimes you don’t think you deserve him….other times, you think it’s for the best that you stay.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!riddler x female reader. SMUT AND ANGST!! reader is toxic, but eddie is too, so its ok. eddy being vanilla but also strangely dominant. guys this fic is FILTHY. also,, part 3 to gotham characters eating you out. takes place with like season 2 eddy, post kringle. Did i write a fic inspired by a Hozier song that isn’t even released yet? yes. readers taking advantage of eddy. but also, eddy is more than willing to give. kind of a character study. im so sorry if i made reader too mean ive had this idea for a week😭

fic requested by @clementine-writes-things <3

♫ “My coffee black in my bed at 3 / You’re too sweet for me. You’re too sweet for me.” Wildflower and Barley by Hozier

You’d fucked up, majorly.

God, what were you thinking?

Edward Nygma, the quirky forensics guy. The loon, as your fellow officers eloquently put it. And you didn’t necessarily disagree. He was certainly a peculiar fellow. He had always a thing for…what was her name? Kristen Kringle. That was it. You’d been working with him for years, watching him moon after her. You could…understand the appeal, you guessed. She had a sexy sixties librarian type of thing going for her. She kept to herself. Maybe you should’ve done the same. She’d dissapeared a few weeks ago.

You somehow landed yourself in the bed of Edward Nygma. You’d been hooking up…For the past two weeks in a row. No judgement, yeah?

It started as a joke. You and the other officers, chatting with beers and obnoxious comments towards the other tools in the GCPD. Jim Gordon…Harvey Bullock. The way the men couldn’t seem to keep their mouthes shut, especially Jim.

Well, you’d gotten plenty tipsy, staying after work. You pummled those beers back like it was your last night alive. And hell, living in gotham? As an officer? It very well could be.

They were all drunk and laughing out of their minds. Anything anyone said seemed overly funny. Especially when one of your fellow cops brought up the name, “Nygma” like the name was it’s own disease.

“You think Y/N could sleep with him?”

“Yeah, Y/N, go fuck the loon. I wonder what it’s like.”

“You think he says riddles when hes cumming?”

“Whats long, hard, and has ‘cum’ in the middle?”

The numerous voices of your “friends” rung out, and in the moment, drunk out if your mind, you too thought it was the funniest thing in the world.

“I could do it.” You affirmed, alcohol giving you the liquid courage you wouldn’t typically have. After the “oooooo”ing from some of your coworkers, you decided, fuck it. Edward was tall, had nice cheekbones, and was smart. You could do worse than a one night stand.

So you confidently marched into that forensics room, high on the dare the other cops had given you.

You found him, looking into one of the forensics mirrors. He was muttering to himself and you snorted. Weirdo. Oh well.

He pushed up his glasses when you two made eye contact. He was sweating, for some reason, in that lanky labcoat and rubber-gloved hands. He stood up straight and went rigid when he saw you.

“Ms. L/N-“ He was about to question, when you rammed your lips onto his. You remember it like yesterday- how hesitant he was. The way he parted for air, breathing wildly at you. He kept trying to ask questions the whole time you were eagerly undressing him. But he didn’t seem to mind your fowardness.

Well, just your luck, that one night stand was the best fuck of your life. The way his cock fitted perfectly into your body, like it was made for your cunt alone. You two fucked on the forensics cabinets, your coworkers in the next room over, and it was exhilarating. Especially when the usually reserved Ed got unusually rough, pulling your hair and smacking your ass just right.

By the time you two were done…you were fucked out of your mind. Pleasantly surprised.

Since then, you hadn’t been able to get away. You told the cops it was vanilla, and reveled in their dismay. But…you came back for seconds. And then thirds. And then fourths. And then you couldn’t remember the last time you woke up in your own bed.

And just as if you were Kristen…he started following you. Your coworkers snickered. You’d see homemade cupcakes left on your desk. You’d catch him staring at you from the other side of the precint. You writhed under his gaze. For a man with not much expirence, he was obnoxiously good at sex. And he was even more obnoxiously good at not understanding the meaning of coworkers with benefits, and not a relationship.

But…mornings like these? You can’t complain.

Taking yourself back to the present, you awoke in his bed. The sunlight of the open windows bled through your eyelids, and you felt yourself smack your lips. You blinked yourself awake, same as you always did. You shifted underneath the covers, which had been neatly adjusted over you. It was infuriatingly comfortable. You let a yawn escape your lips.

“Ah, good! You’re awake!” You heard his voice chime, far off in the kitchen. You looked up, seeing his tall frame. He stared at you adoringly, and you felt your heart pang.

He carried a tray of coffee and breakfast. You sat up. It was the usual morning routine. He made the most exquisite breakfasts for you.

“A necessity to some, a treasure to many. I’m best enjoyed among pleasant company. Some like me hot, some like me cold. Some prefer me mild, others prefer me bold. What am I?” He spoke the riddle quickly.

You blinked at him, tired. You shrugged nonchalantly.

He made his way over to you, swiftly and delicatley placing the tray in your lap.

“Coffee.” He looked a bit dissapointed at your lack of answer, but brightened back up instantly. “Almost black, not quite. 1 Sugar. No cream. Just how you like it.” He noted, and it was in this moment, you felt the weight of your actions. He’d memorized everything about you. Whatever records you liked, he’d play softly. He’d learned your favorite flavor cupcake, and how you took your coffee. Gods, he’d even bought the brand of toothpaste you had at your house, so it was familiar brushing your teeth in the morning.

You squinted, adjusting yourself to the sunlight of the room. Golden. You felt the weight of the tray, and met his gaze. God, it was intense. The way his big, puppy dog like eyes harrowed in on you. Like you were the world.

He was practically wagging his tail, watching you take a slow sip of coffee. He wanted praise, as though perfected it, finally.

He was too sweet for you. You didn’t deserve any of this. But selfishly…you couldn’t resist.

You gave him a small nod in approval, letting the liquid glide down your throat. Damn it, The coffee was perfect.

He positioned himself next to you on the bed, sitting, legs crossed. He looked at you almost creepily, eyes never leaving as you finished your breakfast and coffee. You didn’t say a word to him, but you did listen to him ramble quite a bit. Every now and then he’d ask a casual question, and you’d stay silent, or give him a one worded answer. You’d see his smile falter, but he’d continue.

When you were done, he’d grab the tray from your hands. You let him do the work for you. You liked his bed. He came back, eyes big and bright. He sat once more, looking at you expectantly. You furrowed your brows.

“…What?”

He shrugged, giving a slightly nervous, manic giggle. You cringed a bit, but faltered when you felt his fingertips glide across your thigh.

Oh. Thats what.

“…We have work in an hour.” You replied. The mantra played in your head. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve him. You felt guilty.

“I’ll be quick.” He affirmed, peeling the covers back. Oh, fuck it. Who were you to deny him?

He didn’t lie, he was fast. The covers exposed your skin, still undressed from the previous night. You felt the cool air on your thighs and pussy, and couldn’t help it. You caved.

In an instant, he was worshipping your legs, working his way up. He kept eye contact with you, laying gentle bites and pecks into the plush of your skin.

He kissed his way up, tonguing the bite marks he left in his wake. You shivered when his lips hovered over your pussy. He wasted no time. No, he didn’t tease you, he needed to please you as quickly as he could. It was a need for him.

His tongue came into contact with your pussy lips, and you shivered. Instinctivley, you threaded your hands through his morning messy hair, and shoved his face into you. He reciprocated instantly, wanting nothing more than to make you feel good. He licked up and down, tongue flicking gently on your cute little pearl of a clit.

He circles it and taps it with his tongue, saliva dripping and mixing with your juices. His movements are quick and calculated, and he indulges you, body and soul. He hums in pleasure when you arch your back up into him uncontrollably. It’s almost uncharacteristic- the way he switches from being so soft and gentle, to practically making out with your pussy. You feel his fingers dig into your thighs, like he’s a whole different person when he’s mouth fucking you.

Your moaning and shaking, saying his name over and over. Somehow, your getting off to this. To the idea you don’t deserve him. That he’s such a nicer, better, smarter person than you. And although he doesn’t vocalize it, you wonder if he strangely shares the sentiment.

It’s almost like he knows. Like he’s self-aware- of all your selfish thoughts. Like this, him eating you out, him on his knees for you, making you breakfast in bed- is some sort of revenge.

He knows what he’s doing. He’s making you feel awful, guilty for your mistreatment of him- by giving you more and more of him. And you find yourself cumming in his mouth at the thought.

He greedily laps at your swollen clit, overstimulating you. You let out a loud yelp, and he keeps going, only for a few more seconds.

It’s weird. He’s weird. But as you sober up from your orgasm, shaking underneath him, you brush those strange thoughts from your head.

You look into his gentle eyes again, watching him ramble off apologies. You two will most definitely be late to work. You scold yourself. Why would you think such an odd thing? No, he’s a complete sweetheart. Not a degrading bone in his body. You think.

Yet…you still feel the bruises forming on your thighs. And the burning guilt of using him.

You left his aparment in a hurry, driving yourself insane. You seem to convice yourself it was a weird orgasm thought, maybe you’re more kinky than you thought; for some pseudo pyschological self degradtion.

You go to the precint, just as you do every other day. The work is effectively still just as boring and your peers are still just as insufferable.

You’re given a few files by some mysoginistic cop you haven’t aquainted yourself with, who obviously assumed you were the new record keeper. You snort, but decide to take it. You browse over the files, snooping. They are forensic files, and your heart drops. Ah. You’ll have to give these to him.

You enter the forensic room without knocking- at least, you’re about to. But you hear him mumbling to himself, and decide to listen in for a moment. Curiosity getting the best of you.

“You’re too good to her.” You hear him argue with…himself? “You need to show her whose in charge.”

“I am!” He retaliates to his own voice.

“By making her coffee?” He snarls, and your brows furrow. He smashes a file cabinet closed loudly. You jump.

“Yes!” Ed’s voice growls out, fed up. “If you were smart enough to understand-“ He begins, and you’ve heard enough. You enter the room.

Ed looks at you bewildered, and you look at the same. He’s sweating, and his hair is in dissaray. You two make eyecontact and you grimace. What the hell?

You hardly register what he was actually saying, and more that he was having a seemingly very heated conversation with himself. You watch him fumble with his glasses.

“…Ed?” You question, and he snaps.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is quick and sharp. Thats uncharacteristic. You wince.

“Uh, files.” You nod to the papers in your hands, and he blinks, standing up straight. He clears his throat.

“Right.” He recovers, quickly. You narrow your eyes at him, and hum, giving them to him. He’s about to speak, but you rush yourself out of the room, heart pounding.

He is weird. He is a freak. You chime. Your coworkers have been right.

Any shred of pity you had for him has dwindled significantly, and you mull it over in your mind.

Maybe you do deserve eachother, You think. You’re the best he’s going to get.

[multifandomfanficss]

It’s About Time

Ed Nygma/The Riddler x Reader

Prompt: Ed offers to help you with time management when you tell him you’re stressed at work. Your conversation is interrupted by an attack on the GCPD by the Maniax.

Warnings: Mentions of murder, cannibalism, r*pists, abuse, and general graphic violence. Gotham typical violence. Mental health struggles. Sensory issues and meltdowns common with autism. Panic. Near death experiences. Claustrophobia. References to being buried alive. Nightmares.

A/N: I’m rewatching Gotham and I didn’t realize the missed potential for hurt/comfort the first time I watched this show 7 years ago. My work load has been really heavy lately, but this show broke me out of my writers block and I made time for the writing bug. This takes place in the middle of Ed’s Riddler arc. He hasn’t fully become the Riddler yet, but he has already made his first kill. The reader has qualities of an autistic person, but is not explicitly said to be autistic. I accidentally code a lot of my characters to be autistic because I am, but this was more intentional to reflect Ed’s autistic coding. Feel free to read into it or not! You don’t have to be autistic to read and hopefully enjoy this! Crossposted on my AO3 adriansglasses.

“I’ve been so stressed lately.” You sigh. “It’s like I can’t get anything done that I actually need to get done.” You stand in the hallway of the precinct talking to your friend Ed. You were stressing about this case and Jim Gordon was making you go through hundreds of old files for him. You were never part of the real action, but the horrifying crime scene photos and evidence you had to pull through everyday was taking a toll on you. Gordon’s time crunches never helped either. You understood that lives were often on the line, but that didn’t make it any easier.

“What can some people never get enough of and others say is too much? What has the ability to fly when having fun or is stuck completely frozen when you need it to move?” He smiles. You stare at him blankly. You had not been getting enough sleep. You loved hearing his riddles, but you were never the best at giving him the answers. It was so hard for your mind to keep track of it all. “Do you give up?” He asks.

“My brain just isn’t braining right now.” You laugh. “What’s the answer?”

“Time.” He beams, happy with himself. “You should try to implement a better time management plan. You look tired all the time. It’s like you’re not even sleeping.”

“Thanks, Ed.” You give a dry laugh.

“You know what I mean.” You nod in an agreement with him. “You might be the only person who usually knows what I mean.” He says, fiddling with his fingers and the buttons on his coat.

He was right. Nobody quite seemed to get him, but nobody quite seemed to get you either. You had always felt this odd draw to him that you could never quite explain. Truthfully you think you have feelings for him, but you always bury them. He saw you as a friend and he really needed a friend. Besides he had been pinning over Kristen since before you even got to the precinct. You had mixed feelings towards her. On one hand you felt bad for her. She was always getting mixed up with shitty boyfriends who treated her poorly, but on the other hand she had a mean streak. You never liked how she treated Ed. It was like he wasn’t a person with feelings to her and that made you so angry.

“You’re right. I haven’t been sleeping.” You tell him.

“Why is that?” He asks.

“We live in Gotham. With the terrifying shit we see everyday, I don’t know how anyone sleeps.”

“Are you having nightmares again?” He asks, his face painted with concern.

“It’s fine. It’s just work stress. It’s just this case. I’m fine.” You smile. It wasn’t a real smile. Your smiles always came so naturally around Ed that he knew something was off. He was about to press when you heard gunshots coming from down the hall. Your body immediately froze like a dear in headlights in the middle of the hallway.

You’ve had violent people in the precinct before and it always made you nervous, but this was different. The Maniax were on the loose and you knew they were too unhinged to care about survivors or bargains. With Jerome Valeska at the helm, along side cannibals, rapists, and murderers you were terrified. They’d escaped from Arkham days ago and already managed to murder dozens of people. This was far too close to the action for you, as you heard Jerome’s laugh bellowing down the hall from the bullpen; a laugh you remembered from one of your early cases at the precinct. You had felt bad for him and tried to help him when his mother died. You will never forget the laugh he let out when Jim realized he wasn’t as innocent as you’d thought. It ran a chill through your spine.

Everything started moving too fast when you realized you were being pulled down the hall quickly. Once you realized you were holding hands, you tightly grasped Ed’s hand, not wanting to be separated from him. He brings you further down the hall into the ME’s lab.

“W-where are we going?” You stutter. It’s like your mouth can’t keep up with your racing mind.

“Do you trust me?” He looks at you trying to stay calm.

“Ed, what are you doing?” You’re panicking. He can tell. It’s not hard to tell, as your hands fidget and your breathing is heavy. You’re trying to stay calm.

“(Y/N), I need you to trust me.” He places his hands on your shoulders in an effort to ground you with the pressure. You close your eyes and nod, hesitantly. You do trust him.

Ed runs to the cold lockers and opens one, checking to see if it’s empty. He finds a dead body inside. You cringe. Seeing bodies is rare for you and you’re still getting used to it.

“Oh dear… okay… second times the charm…” He mumbles to himself trying to find an empty locker. “Bingo!” He smiles, finding an empty one. The wheels start to turn in your head.

“No! I’m not getting in there!” Your panic increases. Ed shushes you.

“This is our best chance. I promise I’ll let you out as soon as I can.”

“We won’t be together?” Your eyes start to burn. You try to keep back tears. You’re shaking.

“We won’t both fit in the same one. I’m gonna go in the one above you-“

“No no please I- I don’t wanna be by myself! Please don’t leave me!” You cut him off and beg him. Ed awkwardly rubs his thumbs across your shoulders where he places his hands again, still trying to ground you. It’s awkward, but it’s still somewhat calming.

“I’m not leaving you. I would never leave you. I’ll be right next to you the whole time. I promise. I need you to trust me.” You’re not sure if it’s because it’s life or death, or if it’s because it’s Ed, but you reluctantly let him help your shaking body into the mortuary cabinet. When it comes time to let go of his hand and close the cabinet, you don’t want to. Despite quickly running out of time, he knows he needs to be patient. He knows how hard this is for you. He’s always known you’re a bit claustrophobic. He had no idea one of your worst fears was being buried alive. Being stuck in a cold locker wasn’t too far from either of those things. He can hear footsteps far down the hall. The Maniax were never subtle. He kisses the hand he’s holding quickly before closing your locker and climbing into his own. You were surprised by the kiss, but you couldn’t think about that right now and what it could have meant. Your mind couldn’t keep up. He had to leave his own locker unlocked, unable to properly close it from the inside, but he locked yours to make it look more convincing.

When Ed heard you cry, he began to whisper, hoping he could be loud enough for you to hear, but quiet enough for the Maniax to not notice. “It’s okay, (Y/N). I’m still here.” It was enough to quiet your sobs. Tears silently streamed down your cheeks. Ed’s voice had a certain gentleness to it when he spoke to you. He was being especially gentle now. You had seen him angry, upset, anxious, energetic, but his calm voice was reserved for you. Even in this moment when he was admittedly not very calm, he was trying his best to mask his own fears to keep you safe.

You always reserved parts of yourself for each other; parts of yourselves that the other person enabled you to be. You were never as bold as you wanted to be, but when people were rude to Ed you stuck up for him. He brought out a more confident version of you. For Ed, he knew you struggled with staying calm when you were stressed, upset, anxious or scared, even when you were happy. All of your emotions were so big and you rarely knew how to contain them. He tried to stay calm because he knew you saw him as a calming person in your life. He liked being your hero when everyone else only saw him as a weak, odd, nuisance. He also liked that he could read you and that you were honest with him. He trusted you and it helped keep the voice in his head at bay. He didn’t have to question himself with you. He didn’t have to take advice from the voice in his head.

You tried to keep your meltdown as quiet as possible when you heard footsteps approach. They were heavy, not ones you recognized. You knew it had to be one of the Maniax, probably the cannibal. You tried to make your breath as quiet as possible. After what you assume was a poor sweep of the room, the man leaves.

After what seems like hours of being trapped in a corpse you finally hear sirens and then chatter. You hear Ed climb out of the locker above you. He opens your locker and you let out an audible sob.

“I think they’ve gone.” He says, pulling out the drawer to let your body get some much needed air. You start gasping and sobbing, shaking on the drawer of the mortuary cabinet. Your body jolts up. You just want to get away from the locker.

“You’re okay! You’re okay!” Ed catches your body, as your start to fall from the drawer to the floor. You sit on the floor and cling to him, sobbing. At first awkward, he runs his hand along your back, trying to sooth you with the repetitive motion.

“I felt like I was dead- like- like I was gonna get buried alive-“ You gasp for air, sobbing between your words. Ed shushes you.

“We’re okay. They’re gone.” He promises.

You hear fast approaching footsteps. Your brain is moving too fast to decide if the footsteps are familiar or not. You just bury yourself further into Ed’s chest.

“Detective Gordon is here.” He informs you and you relax only slightly.

“Nygma, are they okay?” Jim asks.

“No mortal wounds, they’re just a bit shaken up.” He lets him know.

“You two should probably still get checked out. I need to finish scanning the building for everyone else. So far we’ve got 9 cops dead in the bullpen and… and the commissioner is dead.” He says. It’s almost like you hear Jim, but you don’t. Your mind can’t keep up with anything that’s happening.

After a while you find yourself sitting, waiting for Lee to check you out. Ed had been pulled away for a few minutes to do his job. He didn’t want to leave you, but you assured him you were fine. You didn’t feel fine, but you knew they needed him. As long as you could see him on the other side of the bullpen, you were reluctant, but okay with him stepping away. He left his jacket draped around your shoulders. It helped to be surround by his smell and warmth.

When it was time to go home, Ed guided you to his car. You hadn’t spoken much, but at least you’d finally stopped crying. The car ride was quiet. The only thing that filled the air was Ed’s occasional hum with the radio. Neither of you quite knew what to say. It was a bit ironic considering usually nobody could ever get you two to shut up. You didn’t speak up until he turned onto your street.

“I don’t want to go home.” You said quietly, feeling the panic rise again at the thought of being alone at home again.

“That’s understandable. Would you like to stay at my place?” He asks. You nod, silently. He flicks his turn signal and starts the drive to his place.

“Welcome to Château Nygma.” He smiles, turning on the light. You still have his jacket wrapped around your shoulders. Despite the terror you’ve been through today, his smile is refreshing. You don’t question how he can stay so seemingly sane in times like these, but you’re just glad somebody is. You need that. Maybe you should have questioned it, but you didn’t. He has a nice apartment. It’s not too big. Why would it be for a man who lived by himself? It’s just the right size with cool windows and a comfortable setup.

“Do you want something to eat? I’m a good cook.” He smiles. You don’t know how he can continue to smile, but you’re glad. It starts to make you feel safer. It’s nice to be in a locked apartment with just you and Ed. It’s nice to be in a quiet, secluded place, but not feel alone. It’s far better than sitting on your bed, scared of any serial killers that could be hiding underneath the frame and jumping at any people you hear in the stairwell of your apartment, with an open case file sitting next to you, worried the killers you’re reading about could be onto you any second. Today was a very close call. Too close.

“If you’re not sure, that’s okay too.” He continues, noticing you’re deep in thought.

“Oh…uh yeah… I’m not sure what I want… It’s like my body needs things, but I’m just a little bit too overwhelmed to figure it out.” You look down, shyly.

“Do you want to just sit? I can put on some music?” He questions referencing the record player with his hands.

“That sounds okay. I think I can do that.” You nod. He puts on some quiet music, not too loud to overstimulate you and you make your way to the couch. He brings you a glass of water.

“I can imagine it might be hard for you to have an appetite given your increased levels of adrenaline today, but you should at least drink this.” You take the water from him and begin to sip it. You didn’t realize how nice cold water could feel. You drink it quickly, before setting the glass down.

“Thank you.”

Ed sits down and you gravitate towards him.

“How do you do it?” You ask.

“How do I do what?” He looks for clarification.

“Your job. There’s so much death everywhere.”

“I don’t know. I just sort of do. Honestly I think it’s fascinating…” He pauses, looking away from you. “Sorry. That probably sounds weird.”

“It does, but that’s okay. I like the fact that you’re different and you’re honest. It’s comforting. You’re a better man than all of those crooked cops walking around beating up women and mobsters alike.”

“You think so?” He asks.

“Yeah, I do.” You smile. This time it’s a real smile. Ed smiles too. It’s nice to know after everything he’s done for you to make you comfortable, you can say something to make him feel better.

“I’m sorry all of this has been so awful for you.” He says.

“I know we’re doing good and it’s important to do good in a world of so much bad, but sometimes I just wish nobody had to do it. I can’t even fathom what would make somebody what kill another person. Maybe out of necessity, but it scares me that people actually enjoy it.”

“Yeah.” Ed shifts uncomfortably. You think he must agree with you and that’s why he’s unconformable. You don’t know that he killed Officer Doherty for abusing Kristen just over a month ago.

The two of you talk for quite some time until you end up falling asleep next to him on the couch. He doesn’t mind when you fall into his lap. He lets you sleep, smiling down at you. He didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to wake you. He was afraid of breathing too deeply and shifting too much underneath you. He eventually falls asleep sitting up with you still in his lap.

Everything is peaceful until you shoot up screaming, in a cold sweat. You’ve had another nightmare. This time is different. You’re disoriented. You don’t know where you are. You feel hands touching you.

“(Y/N), it’s me! It’s Ed! You had another nightmare.” You look at his face to see him distraught, unsure of what to do. Your tossing and turning had woken him up. He was awake only seconds before you.

Your eyes begin to well with tears. “I just want it to stop. When will all of this stop?” You cry.

“When will what stop?” He asks.

“Everything! I just want to stop feeling like this. I want to stop being afraid. I should be used to the job by now.”

“Maybe you just need more time to get used to it! I know we talked about time management earlier. I can help you with your schedule.” He offers.

“I don’t want to manage my time. I just want it to freeze. I just wish time would freeze so I could just breathe and catch up!”

Ed looks at you defeated. He doesn’t know what to say. He likes riddles because riddles always have answers. He doesn’t know what to do when there’s a problem with no solution.

“I’m sorry.” He settles with saying. “Would a hug help?” He’s just grasping at anything he’s seen people do when trying to comfort other people with problems and no solutions.

“Yes.” You say quietly, burying your head in his chest. Despite being the one to offer the hug, he’s a little awkward at first. He eventually settles in.

“Is this helping?” He asks.

“Yes.” You tell him. Of course, Ed being who he is, even now he’s still looking for a solution. He doesn’t realize he may be the solution, or at least someone to help make the problem smaller. “You always help.” You add.

“I’m sure most of our coworkers would disagree.” He laughs.

“I never thanked you for earlier today.” You say quietly.

“It was nothing.” He smiles.

“No, Ed. Keeping me safe in a life or death situation isn’t nothing.”

“I’m sure anyone would have done it.” He argues.

“No, they wouldn’t have.” You tell him.

“I’ll always protect you.” He pulls you closer, shifting awkwardly underneath you. “You know… my apartment is always open if you want to sleep with me- I- I mean sleep with me in attendance- I- I mean sleep with each other- I- I mean near each other- you know! In case you have nightmares!”

“I might just have to take you up on that. This is the first night I’ve felt okay enough to be able to maybe go back to sleep afterwards.” You smile, trying not to laugh. You don’t want him to think you’re making fun of him. Truthfully you think he’s sweet and funny.

“You should go back to sleep and since I didn’t get to make you dinner I’ll be making you the best breakfast of your life tomorrow.” He beams.

“You better.” You snuggle into him. Ed is too awkward to suggest you go lay in his bed tonight and you’re too tired to care. You spend the rest of the night on the couch together. You can save the bed for tomorrow night. You know when you wake up in the morning you’ll be coming back. It was the most sleep you’ve gotten in weeks.

Ed wakes up before you and sneaks off the couch to start breakfast. He truthfully was a very good cook. His own sensory issues with food made him very particular about how it’s prepared. You wake up to the smell of something good in the oven. Ed is nowhere to be seen, but you hear him in the bathroom. He’s talking. You knew he often talked to himself, but he sounded like he was talking to someone else. Maybe he was on the phone. You were sure you were hearing one half of a conversation.

“I told you we could trust them. They like me for me. They think I’m a good man.”

[knight-in-baggy-sweatpants]

finished Batman: Zero Year yesterday and am honestly considering becoming a Duke Thomas fan account. i think he's only around ten or so and obviously nowhere close to becoming Signal in the comic, but he's just too precious and too brilliant for me to care. Every time I saw the word "signal" I automatically thought of him. When Gordon created the Batsignal(an absolutely amazing moment I have to say) my brain lit up with possibilities about Duke seeing it happen(i will say that i don't know the absolute reason he chose the name Signal, but i hope that's it). if i don't get my hands on the We Are Robin arc soon i'm going to go insane thinking about him.

also i think it's even further evidence of both Duke and Steph erasure that i see absolutely no one making them friends(Steph first trained to fight Cluemaster, and Duke began training himself to create a riddle to beat the Riddler! DC give me a Spoiler/Signal comic, and my LIFE, is YOURS). two of my favorite cutie patooties and i never even realized this connection between them. you can absolutely trust that they will be buddies in the batfam x renegades fic i'm writing.

[capr1pengu1n]

Man, I really throughly enjoyed your vigilante!reader x riddler story. I just absolutely love the way you characterize him. I’ve been thinking about it for days, no joke. It’s where my mind ends up wandering. So if you feel compelled, may I request a similar situation, a bat-family reader x reader, but with a more hmmmm antagonistic approach maybe? Banter, name-calling, taunts, curses, gibes. Idk, I need them at each other’s throats, to the point where they lift cannot stand each other, then…hate sex ensues! Maybe my girl fights for dominance, but is ultimately a switch-leaning sub, so when Eddie does ultimately overpower her, he’s down right giddy at how submissive she can be when she’s not a pain in his ass. (Also, if you could throw in a size kink for Eddie I’d die a happy women, but do what you want and what your comfortable with, or ignore this all together, I just really love your writing!)

I'll break your pretty face

Summary: After solving your rival's incessant riddles, you're face to face with the man who has been giving you a headache for months now. But with emotions bubbling to the surface, you find out just how much your rival hates to feel about you.

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem reader (no use of y/n), hate sex, dubcon (to be safe), dom!edward, fingering, spanking, choking, degradation, creampie, Edward being a condescending ass, insults and snide remarks galore.

Words: 5.2k

Notes: Thank you very much for the request anon! This was so much fun to write, and i'm happy to have finished it before going away with my family. I hope you enjoy!

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Running, your heels burn as you race to the back of the abandoned shopping mall, your cape billowing around your form as you sprint. The riddle you’d been given at the last location rattles around in your head, racing through the possibilities. ‘I shine like the sun, yet I'm cold to the touch, In the earth I am found, deep within as such. I clink and I clank, and I’m strong and steadfast, From coins to machines, through ages I last.’

All you know is that it’s located at the back of the abandoned shopping project in amusement mile, so you’d sped over on your motorcycle to beat the timer. This was all a game, his twisted version of a game. Right now, The Riddler had Officer Patel from the GCPD with a bomb collar around his neck in the middle of a pig pen; with glee he’d explained you had to do his stupid treasure hunt to find the code-word that would disarm the bomb remotely, letting the police know his location. While you know Gordon has his men searching any farm or slaughterhouse, simply solving his puzzles was quicker and more reliable to get the officer to safety. His demented scavenger hunt had taken you all over Gotham, your motorcycle practically out of fuel by now, as each location was another puzzle or stupid memory game that would lead you elsewhere. You slightly felt like a headless chicken, running around wherever he told you.

Getting to the back of the mall, you catch your breath as your eyes dart around the various stores that you can see, or maybe it’s in the employees only area? The riddle echoes in your head again…metal? But if that’s the answer, what does that have to do with-

Your gaze falls on the Hot Topic store, abandoned and derelict, but unmistakable with the sign out front. Metal music. It has to be in there, you think as you notice the security camera seemingly pointed right at you, red light on despite the supposed lack of power. He’s watching you, you know he is. Pointing your middle finger right where he’d be able to see, you enter the store and look around. God he infuriated you, his smug smile a constant picture in your head whenever you think about his riddles or his crimes. The way he talks to you is different than how he talks about your family, no with you he seems to be ten times more condescending. The patronising tone gets you more riled up than anything, with the falsely charming comments about your looks just seeking to make the anger rise up your chest like lava bubbling to the top of a pissed off volcano.

Sure enough, inside the store was an arrow spray painted in a metallic shade of green, pointing to a cassette player with a crude smiley face. You go towards it and press play, hearing the word ‘Venality’ screamed from a pained voice, presumably Officer Patel, along with a button flashing. Switching it on, seemingly nothing happens for a few moments, your eyes frantically looking around to see if you missed anything. Then your comms device crackles to life.

“Riddler just made contact, said you solved the puzzle. Gordon is sending his men for the officer, good work.” You hear Bruce say, causing you to smile a little. You’re glad you helped, and despite how shallow it makes you feel, you’re glad you got praise from your adoptive father. Hard to impress, you feel satisfied that you’re able to prove yourself, that’ll teach Tim not to doubt your intellectual skills again at least.

You’re just about to leave the store when static fills your ears again, this time from the old speakers hanging above the clothes racks. “Oh look at that, my favourite dimwitted little girl was able to solve my puzzles.”

Gritting your teeth, you leave the store and stand in the empty space outside before the speakers in the mall itself crackle to life. “Walking off are you? Oh are you having a tantrum? Poor girl, do you want me to call daddy to pick you up?”

His condescending tone was like nails down a chalkboard to you as you glare up at the security camera. “What’s wrong? Pissed off I beat you?”

“I’d hardly call that display beating me, a child could have probably solved those riddles faster than you. Still I suppose you saved the life of the corrupt cop, how lovely.”

“Oh? I thought I was a child according to you.”

“Dear, it’s called infantilization,” you can hear the smirk on his face as he continues to patronise you, “Besides, I know you aren’t a child with a body like that, no matter how much you try and hide it with such garish costumes.”

Fighting the blush at his crude comment, you shake your head. “I know you aren’t the one to talk about garish outfits.”

This elicits a throaty laugh from the criminal. “Oh I’m hurt darling, truly… Oh wait a second, I’m not! Why would I bother with an opinion from someone of such little worth and brain capacity!”

You roll your eyes, glancing away from the camera for a moment to suppress the urge to give him the reaction he’s clearly looking for. When you’d followed in the unconventional family footsteps of becoming a vigilante, Bruce was clear and concise with how he taught you about the different criminals that operated throughout Gotham. Both their modus operandi in terms of their various crimes and escapades, but also their psychological profiles. Edward Nigma was a textbook narcissist who thrives on the attention and validation of others, so you were determined to not give him what he craved.

“Leaving already dear?” he asks as you head to leave, “you haven’t even asked where I am.”

“You’ve rerouted your signal through seven different countries’ VPN networks, we’ll find you eventually.”

“I guarantee you will not. Well, maybe the bat or one of his many boy blunders who trail after him like deformed puppies will. But not you.”

Swallowing, you breathe slowly to calm yourself. Don’t rise to him. Don’t rise to him.

“No, but I’m nothing if not charitable. Why don’t I offer you something, maybe it’ll help you prove yourself to the other precious little costumed freaks.”

That makes you pause, as if he was aware of your internal complex to prove you earnt your place in your family as you glance at the camera.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll tell you where I am of course. Provided you come alone. If you contact the GCPD, or any of the aforementioned costumed freaks, I’ll be gone and I’ll be sure that the next bomb will be around your pretty neck instead.”

You know Bruce would be telling you not to, to realise it was a trap, or another stupid mind game. But you can’t deny the temptation…to be the one to take down the Riddler, that’ll cause everyone’s doubts about you to dissipate, right?

“Fine…how do I know it isn’t a trap?”

He barks out another laugh. “Oh silly girl, you don’t know. But I still think you’ll come, such a hopelessly plucky thing you are.”

It’s like a blur, you find yourself nodding and listening to the address before getting on your motorcycle. As you drive through the city, the twinkling lights reflecting on the shine of your handlebars, your thoughts are scattered as you travel. This really is a bad idea, and you know it. You hate him, his stupid tone and stupid puzzles and stupid face…and yet here you are, pulling up to the abandoned building and making your way inside. Green graffiti greets you, messages like ‘can you defeat a mind such as mine?’ taunting you as you head down the hallway to a derelict living area. Flickering in the corner, you step over and see the monitor set up on the table was broadcasting the feed from the shopping mall.

“Oh good, you can follow simple instructions.”

You’re on high alert as you spin around, battle stance ready as he walks in calm as anything, question mark cane twirling in his gloved hand. With his trademark smirk etched on his face, he stands there with his head tilted.

“So what’s the plan, little girl? Knock me out, beat me up, make me repent.” He chuckles at his own words. “Or maybe just look at me.”

“You flatter yourself.” You snap at him.

“I know, it’s my favourite activity. A man with looks as well as an intellect are hard to find you know, even harder to find in a vigilante. Pity you only seem to have one of those.”

Barely suppressing the eye-roll, you bite back at him. “You won’t be so patronising when you’re in a straitjacket.”

“I’m so scared.” He says dryly, stepping closer. On instinct you lunge for him, knocking him straight in the cheek, but his reflexes are better than you thought, as a split second later his cane makes contact with your arm. The pain sends you stumbling to the right, bracing on the rat-bitten sofa as Edward grits out a laugh.

“Well well well, the brat really can punch. I’d say that was definitely in the…hm…top fifteen punches to the face I’ve taken? What an achievement.”

Despite his sarcasm, his hand is gently touching his cheek to assess the damage, and a bit of you smirks at the knowledge he’ll have a killer bruise in the morning. However so will you, if the dull throb in your arm is anything to go by.

“You hit like a girl, even with your cane.”

“Now dear, isn’t that a little sexist? Insinuating that girl’s punches are weak, I’m a little surprised.” He mocks you, smirking as he stands back to his full height. Having never been in the same room as him before, you’re a little taken aback by just how tall he really was. Sure he wasn’t the most muscular man you’d ever seen, but he clearly took the time to have a slim and strong appearance which matched his imposing stature. He rolls his neck, looking you up and down.

“Enough with the feeble attempts at brutality, you aren’t the batman.” He sneers at you, before you glare at him.

“Why did you invite me here?”

“Why did I invite you here..” he repeats your question, pretending to ponder it before his eyes grow cold. “Because I hate you. I hate how…stupidly you solve my puzzles.”

You barely have time to process his weird dichotomy before he continues. “I hate how I underestimated you, I thought you were just some silly girl who put on a costume and thought yourself a hero. But now, you’re an annoying thorn in my side.”

He pulls out the gun from his belt, the gun you foolishly missed in your blind haze of annoyance and hatred as you back away slowly.

“So perhaps I brought you here to kill you, to finally rid myself of my annoying problem. Maybe then I’ll stop thinking about you.”

You pause at his last sentence, but he steps forward and places the gun against your forehead. Swallowing, you look up at him, at how his breathing is deeper than before and his hair had fallen out of place so strands fall limply against his eyebrows. Running out of time, you gently move your hand and mess with the end of his purple tie, feeling the silk material. His eyes dart, confused and with a hint of something else entirely, down to the movement of your fingers.

Taking that as your chance, you move to hit the gun away from him, kicking upwards. He grunts in pain, as you push him to the floor, gun clattering out of reach. Landing squarely on top of him, he grabs your arms and flips you with an ease that took you off guard completely. Instead of the cold glare he gave you a few moments ago, now he just laughs.

“So naïve, you think I’m not used to getting a woman on her back?” he taunts.

“Yeah I do think that, I can’t imagine a woman wanting to be in bed with someone like you.”

“Oh you’d be surprised,” he smirks, leaning in closer as he pins you properly against the hardwood floor, “I think you’ll find I do quite fine with whoever catches my attention. It’s just that nobody can ever hope to match me.”

He punctuates his words by grabbing your neck, digging in to the sides and causing you to squirm and struggle. However, unfortunately it causes your cheeks to flush which doesn’t escape his notice.

“Are you blushing?” he says, eyes frantically darting around your face.

Embarrassed beyond belief, you try and use his momentary shock to once again gain the upper hand, pushing him off you and scrambling to get up. However he’s one step behind you, getting up from the floor and grabbing your arm, pinning you face first against the wall. His height means he has to lean down to talk into your ear, his grip harsh as he keeps you in place.

“You are blushing, oh isn’t this precious. The pathetic girl is attracted to me. Well I’m not surprised, I am a specimen.”

“Do you ever shut up.” You snap, trying to move but instead he presses his chest fully into your back, hand unclipping your utility belt so it falls to the floor with a clatter.

“Not when I’m having fun. Finally you’re actually worth a damn.”

You turn and spit at him, the saliva only succeeding in creating a small stain on his white shirt, to which he tuts.

“You really are stupid, aren’t you? Spitting at me like that.” He starts as he grips your neck from behind. “I could just choke you right here, right now. You wouldn’t be able to stop me now, without your little toys, or without backup from your dimwitted friends. No I think you should show a bit of respect to the man who holds your life literally in his hands.”

You still, the situation really dawning on you as you’re pressed against the wall. He uses his other hand to tug your hood down, before pulling your hair so he can look at you.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you liked this.” He mutters, his hand gently stroking the strands now and giving you whiplash from the tonal shift. “Is that true? Do you like being dominated?”

“No.” you lie, gritting your teeth as he laughs.

“No? Then why are your pupils dilated? Why is your chest moving rapidly with your frantic breathing? Either you like this, or you’re a truly pathetic hero to be this scared.”

You know deep down he’s right, and you hate it. You hate it as much as you hate him, and you hate him as much as you’ve always been secretly attracted to him. Seemingly, the twisted feeling is mutual as he pushes his knee between your thighs.

“What are you-“

“Use whatever limited cognitive abilities you possess to come up with an educated guess.” He taunts, as his knee presses against your clothed cunt. You bite back a gasp, lips parting as your hips buck forward without warning. “See? I think you’re finally starting to understand.”

It’s sick, it really is disgusting how turned on you feel as the murderer you’ve been trying to catch is currently helping you move over his knee and thigh, grinding against him. Your pussy clenches around nothing as you rock against the material of his suit trousers, the green being practically the only colour you can focus on. “I hate you…”

He smirks at your admission as he leans in, warm breath tickling your ear. “And I really believe that you believe that.”

You shudder at the whisper, as he grabs your upper arms and spins you so you’re facing him. Gripping your throat once again, his lips slam into yours in a brutal kiss, months of biting remarks and taunts accumulating into this dizzying moment of passion and desire. Not one to give up, you grip the lapels of his jacket and bring him closer, tongue trying to assert dominance in his mouth. You feel the grin he has at your antics, his free hand lifting your thigh so he can grind against you.

When he pulls away, a small trail of spit connects you both as you stare at each-other. You really hate how handsome he looks like this, his eyes softer but no less condescending as he looks down at you, large hand moving away from your neck to grip your jaw.

“Much more appealing when you aren’t running your mouth.” He mutters quietly, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. Feeling the cold leather, you bite down gently and tilt your head to pull his glove off, which causes his eyes to narrow in amusement.

“Oh I see, trying to get me to touch you properly? Are you that starved for affection? I almost pity you.” He taunts, but his hand runs down your cheek in such a soft manner that it takes your breath away. Fingertips dance down to your pulse point, then down to your cape, unclipping it so it falls to the floor with your belt. His eyes roam your figure, and you know you should just punch him hard and get out of there, but when his finger fiddles with the zip at the top of your suit, you jolt with a passion and spin him so he’s against the wall. Surprisingly he lets you, as he laughs against your lips when you kiss him forcefully. He grips your hips and brings you against him, having to crane his neck downwards to keep kissing you.

Your hands feel his chest through his expensive shirt, running over where his nipple is which causes him to jump a little. Relishing in that, you run your fingers along the same spot again to which he growls and pushes you quickly. Stumbling back, he pins you against the back of the sofa and smirks.

“You’re so easy to push around, some vigilante you are.” He teases, although clearly trying to deflect from the fact he himself was flustered from your outburst. To punctuate his words, he cups your clothed cunt roughly, causing a small whine to escape you. “See isn’t that much better? To just give in to the wills of your superiors.”

You try and bite back, but it dies in your throat when he keeps groping you, this time roughly pulling the zip down of your suit so it reveals your black bra. He takes his other glove off, placing it on the back of the sofa before groping at your chest with both hands, causing your back to arch.

“Oh sweetheart, if I’d have known this is what you were hiding under that stupid outfit, I’d have rid you of it long ago.”

Tugging your suit, you let him use your limbs like a rag-doll to get the top half of your suit off, before unclipping your bra and placing it with his glove. His hands grope your newly exposed chest, circling your nipples as he groans softly at the sight. He cruelly pinches just to watch you cry out.

“That’s it, let me use you. You just love it don’t you?”

You don’t answer, which clearly aggravates him. He pinches your right nipple roughly yet again, as his left hand comes up to tug your hair. “I said, you love it. Don’t. You.”

“Yes!” you finally cry out, hips bucking into nothing as your breath comes out shaky and stunted. His self satisfied grin speaks volumes as he pats your cheek condescendingly.

“Good girl.”

Impatiently, he tugs down the rest of your suit so it hangs limply around your knees, allowing your thighs to part just enough for Edward to fit his big hand between them. Feeling how soaked you are, he grits out a moan as he explores your folds. Letting out a soft moan yourself, you shiver at the villain’s touch as he circles your clit.

“You’re drenched…is this what you do to all the criminals you fight? Strip when you lose the upper hand?” he taunts, moving his fingers faster over your throbbing heat.

“No…of course I don’t…” you grit out, whimpering again at the pleasure he’s giving you.

“Good. I’d carve out their eyes you know.” He whispers darkly, and despite your conscience your pussy throbs at his words. “I don’t think I like the idea of anyone else knowing how slutty you are.”

“I’m not slutty.” You try and argue, but it’s hard for those words to carry any weight when you’re shivering and moaning under his precise touch. He has the audacity to laugh in your face.

“I think we both know that’s not true darling. Slutty for me, the criminal who you came here to stop. If only Gotham knew the truth about their prettiest hero.”

At your embarrassed noise, he brings his fingers down lower to play with your hole. “Do you want me here?”

Not having the strength to resist your desires anymore, you nod pathetically as he smirks. You expected him to make you beg or grovel, but instead he sinks two fingers into your cunt, your legs shaking at the slight stretch.

“You're prettier when you’re polite.” He says as he starts to pump his fingers in and out of you, curling them just right so you moan louder for him. Clenching around his digits, you hold on to his shoulder, his eyes full of concentration as you look up at his face.

“Fuck…I didn’t expect you to be so-“

“Good at this?” he taunts, continuing the steady pace of his fingers, “I’m hardly a blushing virgin dear. I know how to make a woman feel pleasure.”

“That’s surprising.” You can’t help but mock, which causes him to hum and reach his hand around your neck once more.

“Don’t be a brat. You were doing so well.” He hisses, pushing against your g spot. “I could just stop, leave you here all wet and wanting and pathetic.”

You think there’s a good chance he’s bluffing, but with how much your clit aches with desire you decide you aren’t willing to take that risk. So you shake your head. But that isn’t enough for him.

“Say sorry.”

You whine, but he stops the movements of his fingers, leaving them deep inside you without moving. His grip on your neck tightens slightly as he stares you in the eyes.

“I said, say sorry. Surely you aren’t that dumb that you don’t know how to apologise properly.”

“I’m sorry.” You mumble quietly, so he pulls out his fingers and gives your cunt a harsh slap.

“Is that it?” he taunts, reveling in how you cried out at the slap, “I could barely hear your little whisper. Say it again, say it properly. Say ‘I’m sorry Mister Nigma, sir.’”

Shame and embarrassment burn throughout your body like a wildfire, his words the match you’d practically lit for him. With a shaky breath, you repeat it.

“I’m sorry Mister Nigma, sir.”

He doesn’t respond, just forces his fingers back inside your dripping heat roughly. Moaning, you relax as best you can with your ass pressed against the back of a rather uncomfortable sofa and enjoy his slender fingers filling you up. His pace is intense but steady, his eyes firmly on yours as he watches your reactions to every little change in pace or angle. It’s like he’s operating a machine, pressing the right buttons and connecting the right wires to achieve his intended results.

When his other hand lets go of your neck to rub messily at your clit, you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your moans getting breathy and desperate. His smirk grows as he notices, feeling your thighs start to shake and your hips move.

“Getting close?” he asks, and you nod desperately. You can feel the pleasure nearly reaching the pinnacle, just a few more thrusts of his fingers and…oh god you’re going to-

He pulls his fingers out roughly, and his face is one of pure satisfaction as you whine pitifully at the loss of stimulation, not being able to cum as you gaze up at him. He laughs in your face, holding your jaw so he can look into your glassy eyes.

“Did you really think I’d just let you cum?” he chuckles again, squishing your cheeks together to further humiliate you, “oh you silly, silly girl. No, you aren’t getting that privilege until you earn it. And my dear, I think you’ll have to do a lot more than apologising in such a pathetic way.”

With a grin that betrays the fact he’s having the time of his life, he forces his wet fingers into your mouth so you can lick them clean. Not being given much of a choice, you suck them and look into his eyes from under your eyelashes. Once he deems them suitably clean, he pulls them out and wipes them crudely on your breasts, before gripping your arm and moving you to the correct side of the sofa. He pushes you down unceremoniously, before settling behind you as you get up on your hands and knees, not before he strips you of your suit completely and placing it with his gloves.

Hearing the sound of his belt being taken off, your thoughts are clouded by lust as you arch your back a little. He seemingly appreciates the submissive gesture, slapping your ass as he unbuttons his trousers.

“So eager.” He teases, and you feel his cock against your ass as he speaks. “Beg for me.”

With a shiver, you know that he’s being serious so you start to beg softly, not really used to it. In response, he pushes your thighs together and pushes his cock between them. Moving, he fucks your thighs as you realise your begging isn’t enough, moaning softly as your pussy coats him with your wetness. Each time you feel him brush against your clit, your breath hitches and your words stutter. But still you persevere, begging like you never have before, for him to fuck you, for him to make you his, for him to own you.

That word choice seems to be the right one, as he groans before positioning at your entrance and pushing in smoothly. Crying out at the long awaited feeling, your head hits the sofa cushion underneath you as he bottoms out, before pulling out and thrusting deep once more.

“So tight, bet it’s been a while, hm? If ever.” He taunts, moaning softly as he pulls out and watches his own cock disappear again inside your heat.

“I’m not a virgin.” You mumble, realising he’s doing to you what you did to him earlier, as you defend yourself rather pitifully.

He instead laughs and sets a rhythmic pace, gripping your hips to aid his movements. “Well you certainly act like it, acting like you’ve never begged a day in your life. Hard to believe from someone so…fuck…so submissive.”

You want to protest, really you do, but his pace just has you reeling from the pleasure as you let yourself be used by him. Moaning into the cushion muffles you, so he grabs your hair and tugs hard.

“Let me hear you, go on. Tell me how good I am.” He demands, his ego seemingly never satiated as he fucks you.

“You’re so good…so good sir.” You ramble, feeling yourself fall into the submissive head-space as your eyes grow more and more unfocused.

“Say the full thing dear…fucking hell…go on.”

You know what he wants, and the part of your brain that was telling you to resist, the part trying to remind you that this is a man who has brutally tortured and murdered people, who has terrorized your city, who has put your adopted brothers in death traps, it falls silent with every thrust into your cunt. So you do.

“You’re so good Mister Nigma, sir.” You whimper, your voice barely recognisable to your own ears. He seemingly is pleased with your words, letting go of your hair and fucking you harder. The pace and intensity make him sweat, quickly and clumsily tugging his tie off and shrugging his suit jacket from his shoulders, still finding the compulsion to place them neatly on the back of the sofa with your bra and suit.

“There, so much better when you listen to me.” He grits out, clearly struggling to keep his own composure. He’d never admit it of course, but he’s thought about this scenario more times than he can remember. Laying in his bed, not being able to sleep with a million thoughts and ideas running through his brain, but the most pervasively annoying being thoughts of you. Your voice as you snap back at his taunts, your body and how it looks on his screens as he watches you beat the robots he’s painstakingly made, or the men he hired to protect his assets. All of it usually leading to his hand down his trousers, furiously pumping his length to the thought of putting you in your place, of showing you that he is the greatest mind Gotham has ever seen, and you’ll respect it, as he’d cum all over his hand and torso.

Now here you are, practically putty in his hand as he thrusts into your cunt like a toy. He’ll never grow tired of this memory, no matter how debilitating it’ll become when he’s forced to work, or worse, confront you again. He channels all those emotions into spanking your ass, the gasp like music to his ears as he rails you.

You’re so desperate for the orgasm he cruelly denied you that you sneak your hand down to rub your clit, which of course he notices. But he can’t seem to stop you, as he keeps thrusting over and over again.

“So good for me, so good for the Riddler.” He says, uncharacteristically breathy and lower pitched. You just nod in agreement, little moans escaping you. Feeling his orgasm barreling towards him, he grips at your neck once more, desperate to feel your life in his hands again.

“How about I let you cum this time, wouldn’t that be nice? Yeah? Say thank you.”

Your clit throbs at the permission, getting closer and closer to the edge again as you moan. “Thank you Mister Nigma, sir.”

With that title, he moans and rails you without mercy, clearly chasing his own pleasure. That doesn’t matter though, as you’re cumming around his cock regardless, making a mess of the ratty sofa beneath you. In a couple of thrusts, he buries himself inside you with a guttural groan, and you’re so fucked out you don’t even have the energy to lambaste him for cumming inside you. That’s a problem for tomorrow, as both of your heavy breathing's sync up.

He pulls out of you reluctantly and with a soft hiss, looking at your ruined hole with a small amount of pride in his chest. In all honesty, he didn’t expect to get this far with you, so now seemingly you’re both a little out of your elements. With an uncertain hand, he brushes the hair out of your face, looking at you curiously, as if to gage what you’re going to do.

“I still hate you, you know.” You mumble halfheartedly, moving a little to lay back on the sofa.

He chuckles, soft and light. “I know dear.”

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[imagine--if]

"What am I to you" Bruce Wayne/Battinson x reader?!?

A/N: I kinda just went with the flow on this haha, there's a smidge of riddler x reader too but hi battinson peoples!! It's been a while 😁🖤 enjoyyy, sorry if I didn't follow the trope as much as you wanted bahaha

Wordcount: 798

"I'm sending you to Wayne Manor. You'll be safe there."

You blink up at the mystery man clad in all black in shock, rubbing at the mild red tape marks around your wrists. Wayne Manor? Was he joking?

"Wayne Manor?" you repeat incredulously. "You can't just go to Wayne Manor. Bruce Wayne lives in Wayne Manor."

The Batman doesn't look up at you as he gently pulls a hand away from your wrist, cleaning the agitated skin area with a softness that should be alien to the vigilante, who stalks troublemakers and maniacs each night, warding them off the streets by any extreme means that doesn't involve guns.

"He'll understand."

You gape at him in a daze, the night's events a blur, making your head hurt just thinking about it. Of course, whatever drug that dampened the towel The Riddler shoved in your face before you were whisked off to a cold, crumby hotel room can't be helping either, and you swear you can still feel the effects making you feel weak and shaky even after The Batman stormed into the scene, cutting it short with an untamed rage you'd never seen in those dark eyes before.

Before all this, you'd never properly met The Batman, least of all been saved by him. It was only now that The Riddler was targeting the corrupt, trying to prove himself to Batman, and save you, his so-called angel, a beacon in this dark, cesspool city, from the corruption and the dangers lurking around every corner. But, if anything, The Riddler seemed like a danger to you, constantly sending you love poems and riddles on old-fashioned, cheesy valentines cards and promising his followers and viewers of his streams and trials that another reason to carry out his acts of terror was for you.

"So- so pure, and innocent, and angelic... and they're being corrupted! The influence of this rich, disgusting vermin of the city is attacking the biggest influence and symbol of hope in this forsaken place! I'm going to do something... something spectacular. All you have to do is watch and wait for a little while longer..."

If you'd have known that donating to charities for orphans and helping out true detectives like James Gordon with crimes instead of being bought off by Falcone would gain this kind of attention, you might have thought twice. But here you are. Being obsessed over by a murderous genius, and protected by a vigilante mystery man.

"Do you know him?" you ask Batman in wonder, as he frees your wrist, treated carefully and delicately. "Mr Wayne? I don't know if he'd be happy with me staying there. I mean, he doesn't talk to many people and... well, no one really knows much about him."

"He can make an exception," Batman answers you. "This is serious. I don't want you going back home or anywhere by yourself until Riddler's behind bars. You're a part of his plan, too."

You sigh, putting your hoodie back on and pulling the sleeves over your hands, fingertips poking out of the material. "I know. But I'm not your responsibility. You have enough to do already."

"It's my responsibility to keep you safe," The Batman argues. "I'm sure you're a very capable person, but this is dangerous. People have died. You know that."

"I don't think he'll kill me," you say after a beat of thought passes.

"He won't," The Batman says. "He won't go near you again. I'll make sure of it."

"Well..." you struggle to find the words, confused, as Batman goes over to his car, like something out of a sci-fi movie. "Thank you. But why do you care so much?"

The Batman freezes, glancing over his shoulder at you with an unreadable expression.

"No, I mean," you continue quickly, "apart from the fact that you're a vigilante and a protector and all. Like, what am I to you?"

You cringe inwardly at yourself after hearing the words come out of your mouth, and at the masked man's bemused expression. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? He was only protecting you because there's a terrorist on the loose, right? What exactly are you expecting?

What you don't expect is for The Batman to take a heavy step towards you, offering you a gloved hand to help you into the vehicle. His hand lingers in yours when you're sat down and he hesitates, an odd look of - what, insecurity? Flustered, just a little? - written in his features as he looks you dead in the eye, the intensity making your breath catch in your throat.

"Probably more than you think," he replies after a few moments of silence, and then his hand slips out of yours as the engine roars to life.

⭒❃.✮:▹𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ◃:✮.❃⭒ (message me know if you want to be removed/added. ghost blogs/dead accs have been removed.)

@misadventures0fdes @junebugp @simestandswithtaylorswift-blog @carley-carley-carley @lostbunn @dragovegogrimborn @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @edwardspumpkinpie @murderbimbo00 @sweetums0kitty @beel-mcburger @cml-san @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @bimboanime @phoenixgurl030 @dangerouslittlefairy @yoyoanaria @yaeyuuki @vinxlsketches @beenz-beenz @ghoulsgraveyard @birds-have-teeth @repostingmyfavs @r3ptiliaaa @for3v3rda1sy @glitterycheesecakegladiator @moonwritesblog @lilyevans1 @httpsunflowersleep @hxney-lemcn @callsigncrash @bokksieu @skateb0red @philiasoul@felicityofbakerstreet @deadlights-darling @ireadandream @tinyryder @kpopgirlbtssvt @truecobblepot @jessicainhell

[lupiinist]

i've been on a bit of a dc brainrot for a while, but i also have the non-binary urge to make everything about the marauders, so here i'll be leaving my marauders x dc headcanons

regulus is batman. no, i won't hear anything about it. he didn't lose his parents tho, he lost his brother (sirius' alive, he just doesn't know it yet, lazarus pit, yada yada yada), he grew up with his buttler (not sure if it would be kreacher?) and ends up becoming the dark knight (rich, moved by vengeance, out for blood, but no killing)

james is superman, and i doubt anyone can argue with this one. (look at that man's big brown doe eyes and tell he wouldn't be the biggest superman fan). he was raised by effie and monty, but is the same old kryptonian we know. he rescues kittens on threes, shoots lasers from his eyes and is a big old softie

lily is lois lane. this woman has pulitzers and can change an entire country's point of view about something with 1 (one) column on the planet. she could be the president. she's beautiful. she's smart.

(also, this could be both a clois or superbat situation, doesn't really matter)

remus is jimmy olsen! tired alien bestie, likes to take pictures, wonders how no one else caught on that james is superman because that man can't lie to save his life??? he doesn't even look that different without his glasses??????

back to gotham, narcissa would be batwoman (reg's cousin, full of rage, wearing a bat mask to punch people on the streets? besides, BUFF NARCISSA? yes, please), dating her lovely future wife detective fortescue (alice is montoya, yes), i think she would still be married as narcissa for a while (she Will dump lucius' ass) and go out with alice as batwoman

on the other hand, bellatrix is absolutely harley, i don't think there's even another option? and yes, tom riddle is the joker (ironic for someone called riddle, i know), but who cares about him, honestly?

anyway, rita skeeter is poison ivy!

barty is catwoman, this man steals from the rich people, pisses off his father (crouch sr. would be gordon in this), and gets to flirt with big scary batman (he finds regulus so hot it's a bit pathetic)

pandora is babs, batgirl and future oracle, and i don't know if evan would be the first robin? the timeline in my head couldn't find a kid to be the first robin besides like, nymphadora, but i think circus evan and pandora who lost their parents, and one joined batman while the other became a cop is sort of nice?

on the robin situation, draco is jason todd (it gets progressively more angst the more you think about it), future red hood, and harry would be conner (yes, i know, 'why isn't harry jon?' because i don't want him to be :])

luna would be tim drake. she would one hundred percent manipulate regulus into letting her become robin after the previous robin's death, and she has what it takes to be both a genius and the next ceo of reggie's company. she's just that good.

and last but not least, my favorite ladies:

marlene mckinnon as supergirl, and dorcas meadowes as lena luthor. they hate each other. they find each other hot af. they pin after each other. why aren't they together yet???????

[ilovetheriddler]

The Enigma Of Love.

(Gotham) Edward Nygma x F!Reader.

Chapter Four.

(This Chapter is entirely from Edward's perspective and recaps some previous events from his point of view. As well as helps to establish what point in Gotham this story takes place, and also a lot of Edward Pining and longing, enjoy!)

Word Count: 1,996.

Contents: A lot of pining, devolving feelings, longing, and slightly suggesting themes and conversations.

It was supposed to be a perfectly normal trip to the library. He simply wanted to pick up some new Riddle books, and also perhaps a mystery novel or two. However, that changed the moment when the front desk came into his field of vision. More specifically, once he had laid his eyes upon you. You were deeply focused on inputing information into the library database. He found the focused look on your face to be... cute. He walked over to the front desk, standing on the side across from you. You didn't seem to notice him. He ultimately decided that the best way to both get your attention and greet you was with a riddle!

"I'm made from trees and can bring people either incredible joy or intense sorrow. I can be short or long, big or small. It can take people a long time to create me or very little, depending on the person. What am i?"

You appeared slightly startled by the sound of his voice. He felt a tad bit guilty about potentially causing you stress. You glanced up at him, and his breath hitched as he found himself getting a bit lost in your gorgeous eyes. Oh dear....

"I... I don't know, what is it?"

Oh god, your voice sounded so perfect to him. He smiled at you as he sat his choices for books down in front of you.

"A book! I um... I'd actually like to check these out... You know if um... it's not too much trouble, that is...?"

"Not at all! That's why I'm here, I just need to see your library card, and if you don't have one, then I'll have to sign you up for one."

He was relieved that he wasn't distracting you from your other task too much. He frantically felt around in his pocket for his library card, his thoughts running rampant. "Oh goodness! Oh dear! Where is it?! It should be in here somewhere, ah! Got it!". He pulled his wallet out and retrieved the card out of it and handed it to you, his face heating up some as his hand accidentally brushed against yours ever so slightly.

He watched with a mixture of nervousness and excitement as you pulled up everything on the computer. He found his focus being drawn to your hands. They looked so soft....

"Quite the um... selection you have here... I'm going to take a wild guess and assume you like riddles and puzzles?"

He was startled out of his thoughts at the sound of you speaking again, pushing his glasses back up some before answering.

"O-oh! Yes, I do enjoy them quite a lot...."

You handed him back his card, which he put back in his wallet and sat down on the counter as he grabbed ahold of his selection of books, adjusting them in his hands so they hopefully wouldn't fall on the ground on his way back to the precinct. You gave him a kind smile.

"Well, I hope that you have an enjoyable day, Mr Nygma. And that you also find those books to be to your liking."

He found your kind and polite smile and farewell to be captivating. He quickly stumbled out a response after a bit.

"O-oh.. um.. i..I will! T-thank you miss!"

He quickly made his way out of the library and started walking back towards the direction of the GCPD building. He glanced over at that one expensive sandwich shop, which he was ninety percent sure was actually just a front for money laundering or something in a similar vain.

He eventually made it back to the GCPD building and walked in, making sure his ID badge was still promently displayed. He noticed Detective Gordon and Bullock clearly arguing and discussing a recent case, Then he saw her, Kristen Kringle. He'd been infatuated with her for quite some time now, Pining for her love and affection, always leaving her well thought out riddles and even reorganizing the filing system for her... which she didn't exactly appreciate. He felt a sense of guilt, however, as he recalled how he had felt his heart speed up when he met you earlier.

How could he feel something for someone else after all of the effort he's put into pursuing Miss Kringle? He felt horrible over it, but he reassured himself that his feelings for you were just an acknowledgment of how kind and attractive you were, not a genuine desire to want to be with you like he felt for Kristen.

He made his way back into the forensics lab and sat down at the nearest table, slipping a new slide underneath the microscope and observing it, taking notes on everything important he found. Ed loved his job. It was something he greatly enjoyed. However It did frustrate him quite a bit over the fact that he had been reprimanded for performing autopsies without explicit approval to do so. The previous examiner didn't know what he was doing. He always missed important things, and Edward knew that he was absolutely being paid off, Which is why he may have framed him for stealing body parts so he would be fired.....he's pulled out of his train of thought by a knock on the door. He immediately heard Detective Gordon's voice on the other side.

"Ed, you have someone here to see you!"

Someone... is here to see him? How peculiar and exciting! He quickly went about attempting to tidy up his workspace somewhat. He needed to look decently presentable. After all, he had no clue as to who was even here visiting him! He felt his breath temporarily leave him, and his eyes light up in both surprise and excitement as he threw open the door and saw you standing there next to Detective Gordon.

"A-ah, it's um... you! What exactly can i... help you with?"

"O-Oh goodness! W-what is she doing here?! Oh dear..." His thoughts ran at a mile per minute as he tried to come up with some reason as to why you'd possibly be visiting him here! At his job! You chuckled at his clearly flustered state and reached into your pocket, pulling out his wallet and handing it to him.

"You forgot this on the library counter, Mr Nygma."

"Oh! T-thank you so much! I'm sorry if this inconvenienced you in any way..."

He quickly took the wallet from you and put it in his pocket. He couldn't believe that he had forgotten something so important! Or the fact that you took the time to return it to him.... you seemed.. very considerate as far as he could tell.

"Don't worry, Mr Nygma. I promise you that it wasn't any trouble at all!"

He felt his heart speed up slightly as you gave him a warm smile. "Oh dear... why does she have to be so kind and nice to me..?" He adjusted his lab coat awkwardly, attempting to find something to do to distract from the temporary silence.

"Well, I should be getting back to the library... my break is almost over!"

"Oh, um... Well, thank you again for doing this. I hope that the rest of your work day goes pleasantly..."

He watched as you walked away. Detective Gordon turned to him once you were gone from sight.

"I didn't think that you had any friends outside of work?"

"F-friend?! Oh, um... you're mistaken, detective. She's simply an acquaintance, nothing more... in fact, I just met her for the first time earlier today..."

In all honesty, Edward would love to be your friend, maybe even more.... but he wasn't ready to admit, acknowledge, or deal with everything tied to... that... idea yet, no, he still loved Kristen, and that's who he was going to pursue!

"Alright... I'll see you some other time then, Ed."

With that, Detective Gordon went on his way, leaving Ed to his work and his own thoughts. He got back to work looking over the samples and writing down everything needed.

Unfortunately, the next week was... less than pleasant for Edward, to say the least. He had started having these bizarre dreams, but oh, were they ever so lovely.... they were always exactly the same. He was sitting in the library, and you'd come sit across from him. The air would smell of honey and ink, and there would always be a piece of paper lying on the table, with a simple riddle scrawled onto it.

"I hurt the most when lost, yet also when not had at all. I'm sometimes the hardest to express, but the easiest to ignore. I can be given to many, or just one. What am i?"

Love. The answer was love, and Edward immediately knew this. It wasn't really that difficult of a riddle, but it still warmed his heart all the same. He was slowly having to come to terms with the fact that his affection may no longer lie with Miss Kringle and that he might actually be falling for you instead.

Just yesterday, he returned the books he borrowed to the library and also got to walk you home. You hadn't remembered to bring an umbrella, so he had the perfect excuse to be close to you, and he loved every second of it. It was everything he could possibly want. He had refused your offer to let him rest his feet inside your apartment for a bit. He wasn't quite sure if he could handle being in such a... private place with you yet.

That was just last night, and he hadn't stopped thinking about it since. What if... he had agreed to come inside? He would have gotten to speak with you some more... maybe things would have escalated.... oh dear.... he was pulled from his brief fantasies as he heard an amused laugh, one he had unfortunately heard a lot in the past few weeks. He glanced up at his reflection in the mirror.

"What’s so amusing to you..?"

"Oh... It's nothing, I just can't help but find it a bit funny that you want something so desperately and yet don't have the nerve to act on it!"

Edward had started seeing this reflection of himself about a month ago, not long after he had killed Officer Dougherty. He could never allow anyone to ever know what he did. If it had been just one or two stabs, then maybe he could have painted it as self-defense, but over eleven? No, no one would believe that... his reflection couldn't help chiming in again.

"You went through so much trouble for Kristen... and yet now your attention has landed on someone else... I honestly can't really fault you, she is quite attractive..."

"Shut up! Don't speak about her.... you don't know anything about how I feel for her!"

"...We're technically the same person, I'm painfully aware of what you think about her. About how you fantasize about her pinned underneath you, those captivating eyes of hers looking up at you as she writhes in pleasure as you -"

"STOP! O-oh dear... no, i.. I can't think such things about her...."

He quickly finished washing off his face and left his bathroom. He chose to attempt to ignore his reflections words, even if they were true...

A few days later, after work, he made his way down to the library. He had to see you. You'd been consuming his every thought, and it was too much for him to handle. He was going to ask you out today, and that was final!

He walked into the library, looking around for you in a mixture of both nervousness and excitement, but stopped dead in his tracks as his eyes finally landed on you. You were leaning against the main desk, crying your eyes out.

Why... why were you upset...? He then felt something inside him burning as his mind went to a slightly different thought. "Who made her upset?"

[nevereverthem]

Gotham : Season 1 Episode 1

I fell upon the character of Jerome Valeska a few weeks ago and got an obsession over him. Then Jeremiah, Oswald Cobblepot, Edward Nygma (Nygmobblepot 🙄💕)... I watched videos, read fanfictions, followed Tumblr posts...

Today I'm FINALLY WATCHING THAT SHOW!!

I'm 5 minutes in and...

Selina is SO COOL

Bruce just experienced the worst night of his life DAMN! (By the way, leaving the boy alive is a stupid move... But I suppose there wouldn't be a story otherwise 🙄)

Jim Gordon!? I beg you pardon!? HOT AS FUCK!

Then, at the crime scene :

Jim is so soft talking to little Bruce. 🥺

The "There will be light" bit! 😭

"I should have done something. I was too scared." BOY! You couldn't have done ANYTHING! You would have just been killed in the lot if you'd moved.

"You can be STRONG." Hum... Thanks no thanks Jim. "Be strong!" Fuck you let him be a second. X) I get it huh, but damn it man. Boy just lost both his parents!

Bruce RUNNING TO ALFRED!! 😭😭

💥 INTRO TITLE 💥

OMG the Café! I only know it because of the soup scene with Jerome. 😭😭

Bullock pisses me off a little there but I get where he's coming from... Jim (the "new guy") so much wants to do his best!! 🥹

Renee Montoya... I'm forced by my brain to be reminded of the Harley Quinn movie. 😍

Do I have the right to say that Crispus Allen is an asshole?

At the station :

"She said you had to keep me huh?" JIM 😍🤣

"This is not a city, or a job for nice guys." OH MY... I just... He's right. Fuck. 😭😭

The compilation of arrestations & interviews with the music in the background is 🔥🔥.

EDWARD NYGMA!! I'm hyperventilating!! His first appearance, his freaking SMILE!! I... AAHHHHHHH!

His FIRST RIDDLE ❓and Jim immediately answering it!... Is it okay if I ship them a little for now, after 10 seconds? It is. What's the name of that ship? OMG. 🫶

Fish Mooney being a "last resort". 🤣 Btw, BEAUTIFUL 😍🎉

OSWALD COBBLEPOT 🔥😍🥰🐧☂️ Little umbrella holder... Btw, the way he ENJOYS watching the man being beaten up... Yeah... 🙄🙃

"If you let that hair go frizzy, you will be!" 🤣🤣🤣🤣 PLEASE

Oswald that BITCH 😭😭 He's like a soft little umbrella boy... And then he beats the shit out of the man already on the ground I can't!! I mean I know he's a villain but damn in the beginning he's like "Oh, I can beat him up too? Thank you that's so sweet to let me." *hit - hit* He's (I suppose) throwing his lack of confidence in the blows...

Harvey and Fish so casual, friendly... Jim *UTTER CONFUSION*

Jim already can't with their bullshit!! 🤣🤣

"Yeah, take it easy, Penguin!" - "You know I don't like to be called that!" Babyyyy 😢🐧

Butch is... I... 🤣🤣

"Drop the bat" - *Drops it proudly* 🤣🙃🐧🙄

"All in fun" Oswald... He sounds like a little boy and he's supposed to be 29 (as said on Google). I like his voice, but it's the way his says the sentences. Boy tries to sound all innocent, I can't.

"No problem. Fun." Says the guy kneeling on the floor with blood pooling in between his teeth...

"You're the new guy, huh? How do you like Gotham so far?" I mean... 🙄🤣🙃🥲

The exchange of looks between Fish and Jim...

Barbara Kean

"Talk to me." and he DOES. Jim, one point on the green flag side.

"You don't want to talk to daddy. (...) He's mean." 😭😭😭😭 Little girl.

The wife is terrified for sure and lying so that she doesn't get beaten up by her supposed to be husband. 😭😭😭😭

Bastard tryna escape. 😑

Jim is at his 100% 😮 Man's risking his life, only his fists to fight with...

Jim baby fighting for his life (and for Bruce)... Meanwhile Harvey *shoots once*

Case solved... I suppose. 🤔

Oswald and THE GLASSES 🫠🫠😍😍

"... framed by Fish Mooney and the cops." OMG Harvey what did you... Just to close a freaking case!?

And, Oswald, you're giving informations to Montoya and Allen? Oh MY! Fish is gonna "frizz" you for real 😮

"That poor orphan boy picked my conscience." NAAHHH 🤣😭

Bruce baby 😭😭 the funeral

Oh, Selina! She's a freaking cat from the start. 😌

"You kept your promise." Nnooooo 😭 but Gordon doesn't know. That's not his fault. 🥲

Barbara & Renee?...

Oh... Former friends, lovers? 😏

James doesn't know. He's not privy to that BS!

James going back to the house to search for the truth himself!! 😮❤️

No shiny shoes, NONE.

"Forget about it" NUH UH!

Oswald BABYYYY

James!

OH MY. Does their weird friends/ship/frenemies whatever relationship starts here? 😍

Fish : "You think I'll tell you the truth?"

*Two henchmen walking in*

James : "You just did." 🔥🔥🔥🔥 MAN!

OMG, James beating the two guys... But obviously Fish knocks him out from behind. 🙄

How did Harvey think she was gonna let that go?

Oswald SWEATING 🤣🤣

"Won't you be a sweet boy and rub my feet?" SHE KNOWS!!

The zoom on the foot though x)

Oswald thinking "Yeah... I'm the one who's gonna take over one day!!" 🙄

"Only you saw me with the pearls. No one else..." AAHHHHHH RUN, RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!!

Immediately puts the blame on Gilzean!? What a way to make more enemies... 😅🙃

"Prove your loyalty, my little Pen-guin." The shift on Oswald's face!! 😮😮

The man on stage in the background though. 🤣

Oswald BABYYYY 😭😭😭😭 beaten up.

OH! Falcone. Here we meet. Damn. At least saving James & Harvey.

"You can't have organised crime without law and order."...

Who killed the Waynes then!?

What!? OSWALD IN THE CAR TRUNK!?

"Please. Please, I beg of you.." 😭😭

Falcone wants Jim to do WHAT!? AAAAHHHHH

Ok, Oswald is gonna survive. Man's here 'till the end of season 5 but still...

Harvey calling Oswald a "scumbag". X)

I like the rapid talk about war!

Hurting Oswald's bad leg while shoving him out of the car. 🥺

Baby betrayed Fish and is supposed to be killed, but he's now begging for mercy. Like... what did you expect, dude!? 😭

THE WALK 💕🐧

"Please Mister Gordon. Just let me live. I'll do whatever you say. I'll be your slave for life!" (OMG I WANNA READ THAT FANFICTION 🔥🤣) But it's so sad like Oswald's so used to being a servant/slave.

His shiny eyes. 🥺

"I'm clever that way. And I can help you. I can be a spy for-" aaahhhhh

James is so... He doesn't want to... but he knows he has no choice but ah!

"Don't ever come back to Gotham." *proceeds to shoot in the air, then shoves Oswald in the water*

First, MAN, LOVE YOU!

Then, He will come back. 🙄

"Oi! Master Bruce! Get your bloody ass..." How Alfred talks to him is just so... 🤣🤣

"Fear tells you where the edge is. Fear is a good thing." 100% AGREED.

Jim planning on cleaning the whole police department!! DEDICATION.

Bruce shutting Alfred up. Damn.

Bruce giving James his badge back... The symbol!

Selina!! You have a stalking problem girl. 🤣🤣 Love the "steam punk glasses whatever I don't know the name" though. 💅

Oswald resurfacing from the water. Take a deep breath buddy. x)

You just slit the throat of a random stranger to steal his sandwich!? I cannot condone that life choice man. A bit much truly.

Okay...

That's only episode 1!? Are you kidding me!? Fuck... That's gonna be a lot... That's gonna be FABULOUS. 😍😍

I think I might write a little reaction post each time.

Like if you're interested.

You can also loose your shit with me in the comments.

See ya. 🫶

[l0verboyxoxo1111]

𝕽𝖚𝖑𝖊𝖘 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 & 𝖜𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌:

Hello everybody and welcome to my writing blog! :) I wanted to write down here, what are my rules and what will I write for.

What I will write for:

• X reader’s

• Headcanons

• Fluff

• Smut

• NSFW

• Agnst

• all genders of readers

• Kinks (only ones who aren’t harmful)

• Ships

• Fanarts

What I will not write for:

•Rape

Characters I will write for: * if the character is gay I will not write them as straight.

Harry Potter | Marauders Era

• James Potter

• Lilly Evans

• Peter Pettigrew

• Remus Lupin

• Severus Snape

• Sirius Black

• Regulus Black

• Narcissa Black

• Bellatrix Black

• Andromeda Black

• Lucius Malfoy

Harry Potter | Golden Trio Era

• Harry Potter

• Hermione Granger

• Ron Weasley

• Draco Malfoy

• Luna Lovegood

• Neville Longbottom

• Fred Wesley

• George Weasley

• Pansy Parkinson

• Blasie Zabini

• Tom Riddle

• Adult Version Sirius Black

• Adult Version Remus Lupin

• Adult Version Severus Snape

• Also I will write for: Mattheo Riddle, Tom Riddle as brothers ( i will also Write for Tom as young Voldemort) Enzo Lorenzo, Theodore Nott

Gotham:

• Edward Nyggma

• Oswald Cobbelpot

• Fish Mooney

• Jerome Valeska

• Jeremiah Valeska

• Barbara Kean

• Bruce Wayne

• James Gordon

• Selina Kyle

• Poison Ivy

• Victor Zsasz

• Tabitha Galavan

• Harvey Bullock

• I will also write for DC characters who aren’t from the Series, as: Harley Quinn, The Joker, Roman Sionis Etc.

Friends:

• Rachel Green

• Monica Geller

• Phoebe Buffay

• Joey Tribbiani

• Chandler Bing

• Ross Geller

Hazbin Hotel:

•Angel Dust

• Charlie Morningstar

• Vaggie

• Cherri Bomb

• Sir Pentious

• Husk

•Alastor

•Vox

•Velvette

•Valentino

•any other character from that fandom

Helluva Boss:

• Stolas

• Blitzø

• Asmodeus

• Fizzarollie

• Loona

• Millie

• Moxxie

• any other character from this fandom

* you can ask me to add more fandoms, I will add them if I know them <3

That’s all hope you Enjoyed :)

[quandaryqueen]

i am once again asking for more pre-riddler gotham edward shbdkadjbyw

mayhaps (pre-riddler) gotham edward with a future s/o who's an excellent sketch artist for the gcpd? like even with the vaguest of details they can get, they can draw an accurate likeness of a suspect most of the time? they would totally have a bunch of sketches of other people, of officers and ed too-

Pencil work

Gotham Edward Nygma X Reader

Pre-Riddler Edward is always a treat uwu I actually prefer him than the Riddler!

"This is Y/N L/N, they're gonna need some details about the man who assaulted you."

Edward watches as Detective Gordon gestures at you by his side in front of a poor woman— who had been minding her business in a typical day walking on her way to work, when she was pushed by a passerby at the side of the road, almost getting herself ran over. Just an average day in Gotham, something someone should shrug off after spewing a few profanities before resuming, but James Gordon happened to stumble upon the scene and brought the woman back to the precinct.

You stood ready with a sketch pad and pencil in your hands, nodding attentively as the woman began to detail the appearance of her assailant. The way your face tense from the concentration, softening when you turn back to ask for clarifications, before returning to a concentrated gaze. Edward wasn't aware he was blocking the path as he stood at awe at the sight of you at work.

You weren't called in all that much, at least, not at the rate he was also called in but it was always a sight to behold. That, or he is kept occupied with forensics. Mostly cooped up in your little space, sketching away. He only knew that because he always had the excuse to walk behind you, look over your shoulder, before pretending he wanted to tell a riddle to the nearest officer who happen to be beside you.

"Is this your man?" Detective Gordon shows the woman your sketchbook. It wasn't as detailed as your typical works, but it is just a quick sketch.

The woman nodded and was excused, leaving Gordon to work with the analysis to run the assailant's face through police database. And just like that, you were retreating back to your desk.

"A-ah, Mx. L/N!" Edward did not have the train of thought which consists of him going back and fourth between approaching you or not, as your name rolls from his tongue without much of a thought process.

He didn't expect you to glance back. Shit. You have never talked before and this is the first time you're interacting. He doesn't even know why he called you... Now what?

"G-great work! By the way! Hah... Um..." He scratches the back of his neck.

"Thank you! I try my best!" You smiled.

He returns your smile with his signature Muppet smile, before he retreats to his usual stomping grounds in a hurry, his face set ablaze... Somehow, he has the feeling of wanting to do that again.

~•~

Nothing could go wrong with an idle sketch while you wait for someone to call you on the scene for your expertise and it was the perfect way to pass time, other than being trapped in an endless scroll. The carbon tip hovering atop the paper, you lazily scan your surroundings for an inspiration. There was the beloved coffee machine, next to an office plant, near the forensics lab, where Edward Nygma exitted—

Edward Nygma... The funny fella from yesterday, ye? Definitely a cute guy... Black hair, always neatly combed to the sides, not a strand sticking out, brown eyes behind black framed square glasses, lips always stretched to a Muppet smile. You regret letting him go yesterday, internally punching yourself for not being that much of a conversationalist.

You never really talked to the guy all that much, only exchanging small talk, greeting when you bumped to each other before resuming to your day. When you do get to work with him, it would be brief that you don't really get to interact with him at all. There was a time Detective Bullock was bad mouthing Edward when you were on the scene, turning to you to nonchalantly express his annoyance for the bespectacled man when he made his way to the scene. You kept quiet, not wanting to cause a rift with your co-workers, but you had a way of letting the detective know you don't like the way he talks about Edward... So much for not wanting to cause a rift...

He looked particularly eager making his way forward, his eyes lit up and pace quickening. You watch him pass by your table and pretended as though you weren't just staring at him. By doing this, your eyes landed at the end of your pencil, the carbon tip filling out spaces to Edward's coat and—

How the fuck—

You were shocked at yourself as well, eyes wide at the sight of the absentminded sketch before you— a figure of Edward Nygma, though rough in terms of shape, you were a little concerns about how mu h details you were able to jot down from such a distance. Closing your sketchbook, you take your palms and press it against your heated face, fingers pulling down your cheeks before you slammed your head against your table. Stupid brain chemicals.

You just hoped Edward didn't see it... But on the contrary—

Edward was shocked when he spotted an unmistakable figure of himself on your paper, getting a good sight of it all when you closed your sketchbook and slam your head against your desk, all the while, repeatedly banging your head on the surface lightly. Well, that couldn't be good for the noggin and before you can cause great damage on your cortex, he taps your shoulder.

"That was a marvelous drawing!"

Your stomach dropped and eyes widened, a reaction Edward caused with his thoughtless statement that he had yet again, had zero thought process behind it. Oh no, you don't think of him as a creep now do you? Justified and understandable...

"I'm so sorry." You blurted out in the midst of the mess in your mind. Oh my fucking god this is so embarrassing, I wish I can crawl under a rock and die.

Edward blinks owlishly. "Uh... Why?"

"Um... For sketching you?" For being an absolute leering creep???

"Nonsense! I'm quite flattered!" And besides if anyone should be sorry, it's him, he's the leering creep. "All those details in such a short time! I don't know about you, but most of the time, you're the one who makes the process of capturing the baddies faster. Putting a face to the assailant! Then it would be more easier to get more information like the name, age, where, when, why, how— how long have you been sketching?"

Be still my beating heart... You held a hand to your chest, maintaining a tense smile as the feeling of wanting to be swallowed by the ground subsides as it was beginning to be replaced by flattery.

"Um... Thank you... I mean... Since I was young? It was a hobby at first, then I got into this... Um... Job and I guess I'm a professional now."

"May I see?" Edward could barely contain his excitement as he gestured at the sketch book on your desk.

For a moment, hesitance took over, but you eventually got over it and flipped through the pages, landing on the recent page, before handing it to Edward. His eyes were wide with wonder as he admired the pencil work, his eyes softening at how much details you incorporated in your drawing, a smile gracing his features.

"Wonderful..." It slips pass his lips, his finger softly stroking the material of the pad.

"You can look over the previous pages if you want."

"Really?" He glanced at you, eyes glimmering with excitement.

"Go ahead." Although you were a little shy, you allowed him to close your sketchbook and go to the very first page.

You saw the advantage of prolonging the conversation further and took the chance. For so long you've wanted to approach him, as he seemed fun, but you never really had the courage to speak with him in a casual manner. Who knows? Maybe a foundation of a bond can be forged through this.

[caesariawritesstuff]

Cat & Mouse - Chapter 1

● Ao3 ● X ● Retrospring ● Read on Ao3 ●

It had been three years since you’d seen him. Three years since Batman had been killed, his identity as Bruce Wayne outed to the entire world. Blown to smithereens inside Wayne Manor, which remained a pile of ash and rubble where it once stood. No one in Gotham had bothered to clean it up – you don’t think anyone cared enough to bother. Still, there were rumors around Gotham of “the Ghost”, another vigilante stopping crime on the shadowy streets. Though the rumors were often theorized and speculated on – some thought the shadowy bat people saw was still an effect on Scarecrow’s fear toxin. Others thought it was the ghost of Batman himself. Either way, the Dark Knights ever faithful sidekick, Robin, still did his best to carry on the caped crusaders mission, but despite his best efforts, the city was still rampant with injustice and crime. It seemed as though the most powerful of villains only continued their efforts to secure a hold on the criminal underworld.

One, however, had been gone for those three years: Edward Nigma, better known as the Riddler. Through the grapevine, you knew he’d been in Arkham Asylum. Despite the usual and numerous escapes from other prisoners, which seemed never ending, he hadn’t been one to escape. There were rumors, of course, as to why: that he was too broken and defeated by the loss of Batman to care. That he’d become catatonic and refused treatment. The truth is that no one was certain what had become of the enigmatic, if not irritatingly charming, master of riddles, other than the doctors who worked there, though they remained tight-lipped about the condition of their current patients. You’d heard he’d been released on parole, but where he’d gone or what he was up to, no one knew. Sometimes it felt like everyone was waiting for the pin to drop, wondering when his next death trap or riddle would spring up to terrorize Gotham’s citizens. Who in the hell would approve his parole, you truly had no idea.

You jumped when Commissioner Aaron Cash called your name from his office. You’d grown stiff from leaning over your desk, pouring over files and reports, the only thing you’d eaten was half a donut and three cups of coffee. Cliché, you knew, but you didn’t mind. Hunger churned in your stomach, and your eyes threatened to close, but by the tone of the commissioner’s voice, you knew something was up. The sound made your stomach drop and dread pool in your belly. You stood from your desk and hurried into the commissioner ’s office. Aaron Cash had held the position ever since James Gordon became mayor. But as soon as you walked in, you could tell by the look in his eyes that something was very, very wrong.

“Commissioner?” you asked.

“Detective,” he said, giving you a courteous nod. There were dark circles under his eyes, exhaustion evident in his posture. Something had happened.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, walking further into his office.

“No, everything is not okay. Look, detective – I don’t know how else to put this, so I’m just going to come out and say it. Edward Nigma was released from Arkham on parole three weeks ago. Against Mayor Gordon’s wishes, City Council came to an agreement: his skills are far too valuable to go to waste, so they cut him a deal.”

“So you’re saying…?”

“The goddamn Riddler is coming here to work for our Cyber Crime Division again.”

There it was. The inevitable pin that’d been waiting to drop. It felt like the air had been sucked from your lungs, cutting off all the oxygen.

“Are you serious?” you asked, unable to stop yourself. You knew it better than to question your superiors, but this…this was outrageous.

“Look detective, I don’t like it either. But you know how these damn bureaucrats can be. I don’t have any other choice but to smile and nod and allow that maniac back in here. I’ve got ten doctors who signed off on his parole, approving his “reformation”. A bunch of bullshit if you ask me.” Cash tossed a stack of papers your way.

When you looked through them, you realized he was right. Not one, not two, but ten doctors at Arkham had approved his released, claiming the last three years of therapy, medication, and healthy coping had deemed him suitable for a return to society. You almost gagged at the thought.

You’d been a GCPD over for several years now and seen far too much for your young eyes. Dead bodies in the streets. Disfigured victims of psychopaths. Battered men and women, children orphaned because of impulsive street thugs. But the idea of a psychotic, egomaniacal criminal coming to work for the GCPD because his skillset was valuable? You couldn’t even fathom the idea.

As always, there was never a dull moment as an officer in this damned city – which you were beginning to believe was cursed – considering the number of criminals who came in and out with each passing day. Sometimes you barely had any time to sleep; but perhaps the trouble had been worth it, as you’d made your way up the ranks from rookie to detective in only a few short years. At least, you used to think it was worth it, until the idea of working alongside a known criminal had just been thrown in your face like hot acid.

“There’s something else you aren’t going to like,” Cash said, getting your attention again. “And don’t shoot me for this, you know I don’t have any choice, but since you’re our newest detective…we’re assigning you to be his handler.”

“Me?” you asked, breathless. It was true – you’d been vying for bigger cases. More than just petty street crimes. You wanted more; bigger, better crimes to investigate. Sometimes you felt like the only reason you’d been promoted was because the GCPD was running out of bodies to keep on the payroll.

Cash nodded. “Sorry, detective, I’m briefing you now before anyone else because I wanted to you be prepared.”

“I understand,” you replied, keeping your voice as calm and collected as possible. But inside, your stomach was in knots, your chest heavy. “When is he coming?”

“Should be here in a few hours. Now, I’m gonna go brief everyone else.”

You nodded and left the commissioner’s office. You ran a hand through your hair, which you had tied back in a ponytail. Okay, you could do this – of course you could. This was what you signed up for. To protect the people of Gotham. What better way to protect them than having your eyes on one of its most twisted citizens of all time?

You were ready to walk back to your desk, but first, you took a swift right towards the water cooler to get something to drink, in hopes of clearing the angry heat from your cheeks. You couldn’t exactly tell if being given the position of “Riddler’s Handler” was a goddamn honor or insult.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said, getting your attention. You turned back to find Archer Crux coming out of his office.

He was a man five years older than you and the current head of the Cyber Crime Division. His ice-blue eyes, which were hidden behind silver glasses, and short blonde hair was striking against his pale skin and strong jaw, and when he smiled, a little part of you melted inside.

Okay, you admitted it: you had a little crush on Archer. You’d never tell him that, though. Your own insecurities about dating ruled you far too much.

“Hi,” you said, turning away and bringing the little plastic cup to your lips.

“You okay?” he asked. “You don’t look well.”

“I’m fine,” you lied, because you weren’t ready to spill the truth just yet. After all, you’d leave that honor to the commissioner himself. You had a lot of respect for Aaron Cash. Everyone did. But after leaving you in this position, well…you’d let him take the brunt of the outrage from the rest of the force.

As if he read your mind, Cash walked out and called for everyone’s attention. And of course, as expected, the outrage everyone felt for hearing what was to come was not pleasant. Officers cried out in protest, some even threatened to quit or go on strike. Others were ready to walk out within an hour. You watched from the sidelines, patiently waiting for the flames to die down, and once it had, you knew an ember still flickered, threatening to spark a wildfire.

“What is Cash thinking?” Archer asked. “And seriously, I’m going to have to be that nutjob’s superior? Unbelievable.”

“He doesn’t have a choice,” you mumble, though you’re grateful Archer feels the same way.

When the storm calms, you take the opportunity to head back to your desk and pour over the files. You’d been tracking a series of murders spread throughout Gotham. Bodies left with their throats slashed, all men, each left in humiliating positions. The only thing you knew that connected them was the killer’s signature: an X carved into their foreheads, right between the eyes. Coincidentally, now that you thought about, the murders started three weeks ago – exactly when the Riddler got out. You had half a mind to pin the murders on him, but it didn’t seem him like his MO. The lack of clues and death traps left him out of the suspect pool.        

A throbbing headache pounded between your eyes and you rubbed your temples. Constantly you found your eyes straying to the door, waiting for the moment he would walk through it in all his egotistical, self-righteous glory. The clock on your desk ticked by, each moment causing anxiety to swirl deeper and deeper within you. And when you finally began to think maybe, just maybe, City Council had changed their mind and decided against allowing Riddler back into the GCPD, he appeared.

The familiar shuffle of feet was what first got your attention, as well as everyone else. Three officers escorted him into the room, one arm on each of his, keeping him secure. He was not in handcuffs, but you wondered what security measures the others had taken against him. For a moment, you could hardly believe it. You had to blink to make sure you weren’t seeing things, but sure enough, there he stood.

He’d changed. That was the first thing you noticed.

The last time you’d seen him was during Scarecrow’s attempt to kill Batman with the fear toxin. Back when the other villains ran rampant, when you insisted to stay behind and help in any way you could, though you hadn’t done much but apprehend a few thugs from Two-Face’s gang. Back then, the Riddler was skinny, gaunt, a shell of himself. Pale, as if he hadn’t seen the sun in several days. Practically emaciated, like he barely ate. Greasy, stained with oil and other mechanical fluids. The night Batman put him in the cell, it seemed as though he couldn’t shut up, couldn’t stop rambling about his defeat. How Batman had cheated during his latest trap.

The man standing in the GCPD was not that same man.

Edward Nigma had clearly tried to fix himself. He’d gained weight, gotten a haircut, showered. The gauntness he once held was gone, replaced by a healthiness to his skin, which practically made him look ten years younger. He looked as he did once before, when he worked for the GCPD back in the day. You know, before he became a criminal.

You admit you were taken aback by his appearance. It was interesting how much someone’s appearance could change by the slightest changes in diet, exercise, and hygiene. But the worst part of all is that you were probably taken aback a bit too much. He was handsome, unnervingly so, and you were pretty sure that he knew it, too. His ego wouldn’t let him accept anything less, so you’d been surprised when he’d let himself go three years ago.

Now, you wondered what had changed.

Was it true? Had the doctors at Arkham truly found a way to cure him of his obsessions, had made his impulses manageable? You were admittedly curious, though you wouldn’t show it. He’d certainly ditched the Riddler uniform – no longer sporting his green outfit and Bowler hat, but now he wore a pair of khaki’s and a green sweater. So clearly, he had a thing for green.

The entire GCPD was silent. Everyone held their breath, even you. You were worried that someone would pull out their gun and end this right now. After all, Nigma was a criminal. But was he truly a reformed criminal? Did those who did such bad things get a second-chance, when they had a graveyard at their feet?

It was a question you pondered as the Riddler was brought in to speak with Cash, and the door shut with a heavy thud behind them.  

?

It was true.

Edward Nigma, the Riddler, had reformed.

Once upon a time, he would’ve thought the idea ridiculous. He, the Riddler, reformed? How foolish, stupid, giving up his quest to destroy the Dark Knight – that was, at least, until the detective had offed himself in a fiery blaze. He’d seen it with his own two eyes on the news station, when Wayne Manor exploded in an inferno of orange and yellow flames, a combustion process ninety percent of the other Gothamites wouldn’t understand.

At first, he’d believed it to be a trick. Batman had only wanted to hide, to put his tail between his legs and when the chaos subsided, he’d emerge from the shadows once again.

But that time never came.

He remembered, after his return to Arkham, that he’d waited eagerly for some news of the Dark Knight’s return. Waited for the rumors, for the information to pass through guards during silent nights. Yet there was nothing.

And that was finally what broke him.

His one mission had been to best that bothersome bat. To prove himself intellectually superior. When that mission had been ripped right out from underneath him, he hadn’t known what to do. So, he’d regressed. His mental health worsened.

It’d taken almost a year for the doctors to get through to him, to pull him from his depression, from the nothingness that was his mind. Two more years after that to help him develop…healthier coping habits. There was a part of him that consistently wondered if, by reforming, he’d actually given up and failed. But there was another part of him, that he had to admit, had grown tired of the running. The fighting. The humiliation. A person can only take so much, and he’d hit his all-time low in the lonely moments of the silence inside Arkham. His doctors had finally convinced him that he’d let his obsession with the Dark Knight rule over him, and with that obsession gone, he could focus on himself again.

It took time. Lots and lots of time, therapy, and medication, but he’d made it through the storm and come out better than ever. After all, if a man of his intelligence and superiority couldn’t overcome the obstacles in his mind, than what kind of genius would he be? A genius like himself was capable of self-improvement. So that was exactly what he’d done: improved.

Aaron Cash had since taken up the mantle of Commissioner, that was one thing he’d already known when coming in here. He wasn’t a fool: he still employed an informant to keep him updated on the local turf wars, arms deals, and movements of Penguin, Two-Face, and Harley Quinn. After all these years he’d spent making a name for himself in the criminal underworld, he certainly couldn’t risk coming back into the fold unknown. In fact, it’d been a bit of a surprise when several Gotham City Council members approached him after he’d applied for parole; because, let’s face, he knew he eventually would – a man of his intellect was not meant to be cooped up behind bars.

Though, the city council had recognized his genius (of course, as they should, they would be fools not to), and approached him with a deal: if he accepted their agreements to live in a half-way home for convinced felons for the next three years, kept out of trouble with the law – even so much as a parking ticket – and accepted a role working at his old position for the GCPD’s Cyber Crime Division, they would grant his parole. Of course, his parole would last the rest of his life, unless by some miracle he could prove that he was a model citizen in the next ten years. Still, he had to admit, even for someone with such an intellect as himself questioned why city council would be so adamant to have him back at his old job. The only real conclusion he came to was simple: they needed him.

Isn’t that what he’d always wanted? To be needed, respected, admired? Perhaps, in another life, those were things he wished for. But now he was a different man, though those feelings still lingered, as ever, tickling the back of his brain like a parasite. He’d have to speak to his therapist about that, something he did twice a week.

But, he wasn’t bothered by the way Cash was looking at him, eyes filled with malice and hatred. Sure, Edward had put him and his blue-blooded brothers and sisters through hell and back more times than he could count (alright, that’s an expression. He could count it, every single instances, as simple as remembering to turn on a light switch or brush one’s teeth).

“Look Nigma,” Cash finally said. One hand was held at his hip, where his gun was holstered. Edward wasn’t blind to the way the man’s fingers twitched lower, as if unconsciously searching for the trigger. “I don’t give a damn if you’re out on parole or not, or if a hundred doctors said you’re ready to be back to in society. I don’t like you. I don’t trust you. Hell, I kinda wanna shoot you myself. But, I’m not gonna do that. You want to know why?”

“Please, enlighten me,” Edward said.

“Because I’m gonna give you one chance. One. If these doctors at Arkham say you’ve been rehabilitated, then I’ll listen to them. I mean, it is true – you haven’t escape once. And look at you: you look better than the last time I saw you. So, one chance. But if you step one toe out of line, I’ll shoot you myself. Got it?”

Edward smiled and adjusted his glasses, pushing them further up the bridge of his nose. Of course, he wasn’t subtle about using his middle finger to do so.

“I understand perfectly, Officer Cash. Oh, forgive me, commissioner.” Edward may be agreeing not to step out of line, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t toy with his nemesis, now could it? A few barbs here and there, just to get under the man’s skin.

Besides, he was already a prisoner enough as is. A thick, heavy ankle monitor was tight against his left ankle. One of the conditions he’d been forced to agree to. Though, the fools at city council seemed to forget just how easy it would be for him to short-circuit the wires inside, do a little finagling, and fool their small-minded brains into thinking he was wearing the bracelet twenty-four-seven. And as much as he wanted – and God, he wanted to – just to prove how smart he was, he wouldn’t go through with it. It wasn’t healthy, he knew. Not anymore. His therapists had reminded him many times that he truly was a genius, he truly did have a superior intellect, and there was no reason to go around proving it to everyone. So, no. He would not give back in to his old desires, to his old ways. Self-improvement, remember?

Cash’s eyebrow twitched slightly; a muscle feathered in his jaw. But he finally dropped his hand back to his waist. He reached into a desk drawer and tossed a folder in front of Edward. “Your schedule and your badge. You’ll be working underneath Lieutenant Crux.”

Edward opened the folder and peeked inside. There was the usual paperwork, as one would expect, but he was surprised to find his badge was the same from almost eleven years ago – when he looked different, younger. He’d since practically regained that appearance, thanks to his therapists reminding him to eat, though age still crept into his features now. Perhaps they didn’t care enough to take a new photo of him, but that was unimportant to him. Except he couldn’t help but notice the last name bolded on the badge: NASHTON.

A flicker of irritation sparked in his chest, a rage threatening to burn. That name, that horrible last name, reminding him of his childhood. Of his father, who’d beat him into submission. He hadn’t been Edward Nashton in a very, very long time. No – he was Nigma now. EDWARD NIGMA.

He closed the folder and took a deep breath before reaching into his pocket, where a stress ball resided. He gave it several angry squeezes until his anger disappeared. Another coping mechanism his therapists had trained him to rely on. Cash continued to stare at him, some confusion etched into his expression, but he walked around the desk and opened the door before calling for someone to come inside.

Ah yes, another brute to escort him to the next room, as if he was incapable of getting there himself. Didn’t they know he had memorized every single room and hallway in this place?

Though, what he soon found was not a hulking brute – but a girl who stepped inside. Her eyes immediately flicked to him, lingering for perhaps a moment too long, before back to Cash.

She was wearing a typical GCPD uniform, and her hair had been pulled back into a ponytail. Cash turned back to him and introduced her. “She’ll be your handler here.”

Handler? Were they going to treat him like an animal? Perhaps one could argue that he was one, but that was beside the point.

Cash turned back to the woman. “Why don’t you show Mr. Nigma to his desk.”

She nodded and turned on her heels without a word, which Edward took as his cue to follow, because he was sure she wouldn’t speak to him unless it was necessary. As he expected, she led him through the GCPD until they came to a small office where the Cyber Crime Division resided. Even in all the years, they’d done little to upgrade their systems, and that was the first thing he noticed. Old, out of date computer monitors and desktops. He was sure to find that their software was a decade old, too, though he clenched his teeth to avoid making an arrogant quip.

Self-improvement, Edward. Self-improvement.

“You’ll be working with Lieutenant Crux,” the woman said, gesturing to the man who turned around in his seat to look at him across the office, eyes full of disdain. “And if you need me for anything, I’m over there.” She pointed to a desk across the GCPD.

Edward was quiet for a moment, but the words slipped out, as always. “How do you expect me to work with these archaic machines?”

The girl’s stoic face twisted in confusion. “What?”

“Look at these computers. How old are these processors? How much memory do they store? They look just like they did ten years ago.”

“I’m pretty sure they are from ten years ago,” she said.

“This is unacceptable,” Edward continued. “I insist you get new computers in here.”

“Yeah, that’s not really in the budget,” she said, crossing her arms. Her gaze turned towards Lieutenant Crux, and she shrugged, as if to say “he’s your problem now”. Then she turned on her heels and walked out the door.

Edward admitted that he felt a small sting of rejection and humiliation. Heat seared across his cheeks. He did not like people turning his back on him, making him feel like a fool. He reached into his pocket and found his stress ball again, squeezing until his knuckles turned white.

Archer examined him with disinterest. As if he was a rat who’d crawled out of the gutter. But, the man squared his shoulders back and extended his hand. “Lieutenant Crux.”

Edward did not shake his hand.

Archer's arm lowered back to his side, and an awkward tension hung in the air. Archer cleared his throat before walking across the room. “This’ll be your desk,” he said. “Make yourself at home.”

Edward’s eyes flickered to Archer’s desk. Clearly the term “make yourself at home” wasn’t shy to him. Family photos, perhaps a graduation photo, rested in the corner. At least the man was neat and organized, he’d give him that.

It felt strange, being back here. Being back in his old job. Things had changed. And through the tinted glass, he could just barely make out the shapes of the other officers whispering about him, huddled together, gossip already running rampant through the building. But, Edward was determined to turn things around, to prove everyone wrong, that he had reformed. Self-improvement. No more obsessions. No more Batman. No more reason to keep himself the brunt of every joke. He would prove everyone wrong in succeeding in his new life.    

Edward turned his attention to the monitors hanging across the wall. As far as he could tell, it looked like they were upgrading their firewalls and security systems. Lines of green code would look like gibberish to most people, but to him, well – it was like second nature. Already, his mind was spinning a million miles, picking apart the bad lines of code and those which worked.

Archer cleared his throat again, a sound that would no doubt get on Edward’s nerves soon enough. “I’m sure you can probably tell what we’re doing. We’ve been having some trouble keeping a certain group out of our system. They’ve managed to infiltrate our servers and slipped a few viruses in. I’ve been busy updating our firewalls, but I think they’ve opened a backdoor, which I’m having trouble pinpointing.”

“May I?” Edward asked, gesturing to the seat before the monitors.

“Go ahead. Saves me the trouble and going through another headache.”

Edward sat down, though vaguely irritated he bothered to ask for permission, and found himself transported back to a world familiar. Code was like his friend, machines were his friends – they had to be, because no one else would otherwise.

He was quiet as his fingers raced across the keyboard. Quickly finding those holes in the walls that Crux’s dull mind couldn’t discover, even though they were right in front of his face. And when he patched them up in only a matter of minutes, he swiveled back around in his chair and smiled. “All finished,” he said.

Archer blinked and leaned over to get a better look. “You can’t be serious. You’re finished all ready?”    

“Why, yes, it was easy, really. Something a dullard like you couldn’t possibly understand.” Oh, there he went again.

Archer crossed his arms. His brows were furrowed, his face shadowed with uncertainty. Pride flickered in Edward’s chest, because of course, he was already better than the imposter standing next to him.

Archer scoffed, “Well, I suppose Cash was right to hire you. I’ve been at that wall for weeks.” But his hand strayed down to his desk, where a pistol rested. When his eyes met Edward’s again, he said quietly, “Just know, I’ve got eyes on all these systems. If you try to sabotage them, I’ll know.”

Edward smiled. “Of course not, Lieutenant. I wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing.”

?

You had expected screaming. Shouting. Gunfire. But when nothing but silence emerged from the Cybercrime office, you found yourself finally relaxing, the tension drained out of your shoulders. Everyone else seemed to find the calm, as well, as least as much as they could after the events that had transpired. Still, there was a part of you that held your breath. Wondering when the shoe would drop, when Riddler’s impulses would take over, when he’d kill someone. Consistently, your eyes strayed back to the office to make sure Archer had not been murdered. Sure enough, he was still alive, and that made your heart swell.

If only you could work up the courage to actually ask Archer out and stop being such a wuss, maybe you’d actually turn your life around. Stop living in your shitty apartment, though you only stayed because the rent was so cheap. After all, the pay increase when you’d been promoted had been nice. Besides, it was close. You didn’t want to drive halfway across Gotham just to get to work.

You blinked your tired eyes. You’d been on desk duty almost all day. Folders and papers were scattered about, an unorganized mess across the table. So much work to do, so much to fill out. Though, it’d been hours, and your shift was close to over for the day. Soon the nightshift would come in. Even though you liked your job, liked making a difference, even you couldn’t help but admit how exhausting today had been.

“Hey,” a voice said, getting your attention.

You swiveled around in your chair to discover that Archer had emerged from his cave and approached you, a mug of coffee in his hands. “Hi,” you said, keeping your voice steady. “How’s it going in there?”

“Well, actually,” Archer replied, which shocked you. “He’s actually not wasting my time.”

“So, he hasn’t told you any riddles?”

“Not yet,” he answered, smirking.

That made you laugh, perhaps a little too forcefully. Your heart thundered in your chest, your cheeks warmed. Archer gently pat your shoulder and walked past and into the commissioner’s office, leaving you feeling a bit defeated. Had the gesture been friendly, or romantic? Your skin tingled from the ghost of his touch.

Brushing a stray hair behind your ear, you glanced back to discover that the Riddler was still completely absorbed in the dozens of screens in front of him. As you expected. You supposed as long as his attention was focused there, then it didn’t hurt anyone, right? That’s what you told yourself. It was easier to keep your spirits up that way.   

You stood from your desk to stretch your legs, but soon found yourself wandering into the Evidence Room of the GCPD. It was in there that Cash had collected everything from each of these villains who’d plagued Gotham since you’d been a child. You couldn’t help but wonder how these people had come to be the way they were. How tragedy, manipulation, or their own minds had made them who they were to be. And if it was true, if the Riddler could reform, could the others, too? Or were they simply far too gone down a path of death and destruction to turn back? You paused when you reached the Riddler’s evidence: the giant mecha-robot machine he’d used in an attempt to kill Batman, his hat, his staff. A shudder passed through you and you turned away.

Before you returned to your desk, you paused once again at the watercooler to get yourself something to drink. Your headache had yet to relieve itself, which you were beginning to believe had to do with dehydration. You never even took your lunch break, either, your appetite gone ever since Riddler walked through the doors of the GCPD. Just as you raised your head, you paused and almost couldn’t believe your eyes when you found him standing there.

Ah, of course, he probably wanted water. You supposed even supervillains needed to drink and eat too.

Clutching your cup in hand, you prepared to walk around him, but he said, “So, detective, you did say I should come to you if I need anything. Here I am.”

You sucked in a breath and forced a pleasant, only-for-coworkers smile onto your face. “Yes, Mr. Nigma. How can I help you?”

“I actually request a few things for my desk. These, to be exact.” He handed you a piece of paper, the entire legal pad scribbled with…riddles???

You almost could not believe your eyes. Pages upon pages were filled with riddles.

“What the hell is this?” you asked.

“What I need. Answer the riddle correctly, and it shouldn’t be a problem, should it?” He smiled.

You thrust the legal pad back at him. “Absolutely not. No games, Nigma. Is this really what you’ve been doing with your time?”

“I did exactly as Mr. Crux asked me to do. In less than fifteen minutes, I might add. I needed other methods to keep my intelligence from fading while I waited for his further instructions.”

You were quiet, and it felt like the air had been sucked from your lungs. You’d heard the stories. How arrogant he could be. How irritating his riddles were, but you’d never expected to be on the brunt end of them.

“Are you afraid you might fail, detective?” he asked after you didn’t answer. His green eyes felt like they were staring directly into your soul.

Angrily, you snatched the pad out of his hands. “All right, fine. I’ll play your game.”

“I’ll give you 48 hours, since I’m feeling generous.”

"How do you know I won’t cheat?”

“Hm. An excellent point.” He crossed his arms and rested his chin between two fingers, studying you. But then, he leaned a little closer, his size almost overpowering yours. “I know you won’t cheat, detective, because I don’t like cheaters.”

“Is that a threat, Mr. Nigma?” you asked quietly.

He pulled back a bit. “Of course not. Just a piece of advice. Forty-eight hours, detective.” With that, he turned on his heels and walked away, leaving you a stunned and confused mess.

But the thing you hated most was just how much your heart was beating. Just how much his over-bearing presence and obnoxious attitude somehow had such an effect on you. You hated it, feeling vulnerable, even though your pistol was in such easy reach. But, if keeping him distracted with riddles – which you wondered if it was healthy, considering all things – was the one way to go, then so be it.

You glanced at the first riddle, skimming his scribbled writing.

Contrary to my name I am not a queen Hold me up to things though And their length is seen

What could I be?

Huh. You admitted, you were pretty shit at riddles. But you were determined to figure it out. You didn’t want to be made a fool of, or let him think he could walk all over you. Still, you had to tread lightly. The last thing you wanted to be was another Batman, another person who made him feel lessor. But you couldn’t help but wonder: what would happen if you hadn’t solved them all in forty-eight hours? Just what, exactly, did Riddler have in store?

You glanced at the riddle again. Ah, of course, it was simpler than you thought. The answer was a ruler.

What in the world could he want with a ruler?

You shook your head and when you returned to your desk, you wrote the answer down anyways. But when you looked back up, there he was, watching you through the glass with a smug look on his face. You rolled your eyes and swiveled around so your back was to him.

This was going to be a very, very long forty-eight hours.

And perhaps it excited you. Just a bit.

?

Edward Nigma had never had much interested in women. Of course, like most men, there was once a time when he’d shoot his shot and fail spectacularly. Something that only furthered his insecurities, his uncertainties, his turn towards other pursuits.

So, when he’d handed his legal pad over to you in hopes of a game, just something – anything – to make his new job the slightest bit entertaining, he hadn’t expected the feistiness he’d received in return. That fiery look in your eyes, your quick quips about not wanting to bend to his whims…it had excited him, in a way he hadn’t been excited in a long time. It stirred a fire in his belly. A whirring in his mind – something he was fighting to keep at bay. There was no reason for his mind to wander. Intellectuals like himself did not allow themselves to be distracted by such primal desires.

But still, his gaze fixated on you, just a bit, watching as you turned your back on him. You tried to hide it, but it was clear you were already working your way through his riddles.    

Edward Nigma smiled.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

[sl-newsie]

Behind Masks (Dr. Jonathon Crane x OC) Ch. 21: Court's In Session

Previous: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/744620213809594368/behind-masks-dr-jonathon-crane-x-oc-masterlist?source=share

Ka-boom!

The loud noise startles me and I nearly fall off the ledge I’m sitting on. A strong rumble shakes the ground and in the distance I hear a choir of screams. What the Hell was that?

“It’s done!”

In the alley below someone sprints over to whisper to a man standing behind a dumpster.

“All the cops are buried!”

Are they serious? Gordon actually went through with that malarkey? I thought the news was joking. But no, they’ve corralled the entire police force into Gotham’s tunnels and now they’re stuck. Hm. I wonder what comes next? Any idiot can figure that out.

I slip off the ledge and down into the streets, making a beeline for Selina’s place. Please be home please be home-!

Knock knock.

“Keith, if that’s you I’ll break your other wrist,” Catwoman drawls from behind the door.

“Sadly I’m not him. It’s Calico.”

The door pulls open and Selina tugs me in before she slams it shut. Is it just me or is she packing? What’s the suitcase for?

“You’re leaving before it’s complete anarchy,” I put together. “This was the storm, wasn’t it?”

“Yes and I don’t have time for questions,” Selina speaks quickly. “You can have my apartment. Use whatever you want. I’m leaving. Sorry but I only have one ticket.”

The old me would be sad and appalled that she’s practically abandoning us in this mess. But the new me is surprisingly cool about this upcoming fate. 

“The Reaper thrives in chaos.”

And so chaos arrives. It’s been a week since that explosion buried the cops. Turns out that wasn’t the only explosion. Several others destroyed all but one bridge to prevent us from leaving. Queensboro Bridge is the only one left to provide supplies and act as a false beacon of escape. Word is that an armed nuclear bomb is hidden within the city, ready to detonate if one of us tries to leave. Tanks patrol the streets to ‘upkeep order’ but it’s really just the League abusing their power over Gotham’s citizens. Oh, the citizens. Selina was right. Utter chaos. The poor are rich, the rich are poor. A fight against equality has broken out.

Only a few leftovers of law enforcement are still trying to help. Every few days I see Blake, Gordon, and a few others trying to maintain peace. I want to join them but it’s out of my hands. They’ll only see me as a hooded villain adding fuel to the fire.

Speaking of fire, another fun tidbit of information came my way yesterday. Turns out the League wasn’t the cause of my apartment’s destruction. It was Harley Quinn. Before Bane’s robbery she broke in and trashed it. Don’t ask me why. I’ve been unable to track down the lunatic and interrogate her.

If any other villains remain in Gotham they’ve kept low. Honestly this must seem like candyland for some of them. No cops? That’s every villain’s dream. And, as usual, the only itching question is what’s become of my favorite doctor…

General POV

Dr. Crane didn’t know what to make of the mess when it unfolded. Does he flee? Does he stay and prey on the rising fear? That is a reasonable perk.

Now, hidden in the Gotham library with Nigma, the fear doctor is starting to reconsider. Spreading fear is one thing but when you’re fighting tooth-and-nail for a roll of toilet paper then it gets less intriguing. And, as usual, the itching question is what’s happened to the lovely Dr. Prentiss- Um, favorite test subject.

“New riddle! The more there is, the less you see. What am I?”

Crane hardly hears the Riddler’s question. He’s too busy staring out the window half-hoping to see a hooded figure pass by.

“Answer: Darkness, which is what we’ll be in if you don’t get more batteries,” Nigma scolds and holds up a flashlight. When Crane still doesn’t respond he rolls his eyes. “Calico isn’t here.”

“Huh?” Crane looks over.

The Riddler cackles. “You can’t let her go, can you?”

Dr. Crane resumes his stern expression and looks away. “If she's still here she’s acting on her own accord. I’m not keeping her here.” A few seconds go by and he thinks out loud: “How can someone so stunning be so aggravating?”

Riddler, contrasting to Ivy, has never seen a reason why these two can’t be together. They’re both intellectual and attractive. Yes Callie’s a coldblooded killer and Crane is, well, Crane. But all the more reason why they might need each other to bring a sense of sanity to their lives. A complex social riddle if Nigma ever saw one.

“You miss her. Don’t you?”

Dr. Crane dismisses himself to end the conversation, but not before Nigma overhears him mutter: “Somehow she makes up a part of me I didn’t even know I was missing.”

That’s the trigger. If the apocalypse is going to transpire then at least it should tie up some very needed loose ends.

“Dr. Crane?”

A new voice from the doorway shocks the villains. Riddler pulls out a gun and Crane prepares to throw a toxin bomb. A brutish man in a bulletproof vest steps in with his hands in the air.

“No threats, gentlemen. Dr. Crane, we’ve got quite the offer for you.”

“Oh really?” The doctor asks apprehensively, still poised to strike.

“I promise it will be well worth your talent.”

Calico’s POV

Gotta say, outsmarting the League’s goons is fun! All day I’ve been swiping food and equipment from under their noses and they have no clue! I give the supplies to the citizens, a gesture that I hope will make up for a fraction of my sins. And right now I’m watching the sunset across the frozen bay on top of what’s left of the bank. If it weren’t for the tank driving by this would be a touching moment.

Screeee!

A new siren wails through the city. Ugh. I shouldn’t investigate. But I have nothing else to do at the moment. I slide down to the icy pavement and walk towards the courthouse. What- What the Hell is going on?

“Justice!”

“Come witness our law!”

People are yelling all down the street. Curious. I try to get a better look but the crowd is making it impossible. I slip on my hood and sneak behind a distracted lady.

“What’s going on?”  I ask her.

“Oh! Bane’s establishing a people’s court!” she answers happily.

People’s court? Run by these people? We mine as well elect Arkham patients for government too. Bang up job, League of Shadows. You’re going to have a human zoo in a concrete cage.

“...Judge Crane is sentencing.”

My head jerks up. “Did you say Crane? As in Dr. Crane?”

The man speaking shakes his head. “It’s Judge Crane now. He’s been chosen to sentence the guilty.”

I have to see this.

After fighting my way through I finally reach the large doors. It’s even more crowded inside. Lord, how many trials are they running? I mean there’s plenty of charges to deal with but this is overdoing it. I turn the corner and- Oh my.

“I leave for a few weeks and you turn into a judicial puppet,” I taunt. “Had me worried for a second.”

There, right in front of me, stands Dr. Crane wearing a judge’s robe. How the tables have turned.

He flinches at my voice and whips his head around. My eyes look up to meet his familiar crystal blue ones. He’s just as astonished to see me.

“How are you still here?” 

“I’m stuck here the same as everyone else, Dr. Crane. Talk about a dead end. Though not literally of course, because I am still breathing.”

He looks… good? As far as it goes in today’s world, I mean. His suit is tattered and stained but he makes it work. His unkempt hair looks decent. As for his face there’s no mistaking the stubble that’s starting to grow. Despite this Dr. Crane still manages to pull off making rugged look sexy.

“How have Bane’s plans been treating you?”

Crane’s jaw tightens. “Most poorly. And you?”

I shrug and remove my mask to get a better look at him. “Any day I can breathe is a gift. Discovered any new fears?”

He steps closer, shaking his head. “All ordinary. Any new methods of death?”

“Aside from those who already offed themselves with a gun? No. I’m not killing anymore.”

“Really?” He asks, intrigued.

“There’s enough despair spreading without me helping,” I mutter. “I thought you’d be the one gaining something from it.”

Crane chuckles at my small joke. “I think the fear of death is most popular.”

In the background we hear a guard groan. “If this is how you guys flirt then I never want to see it again.”

Uhhh…

Oh thank God he’s walking away. Jeez. I thought Harley was the romantic! From the way Dr. Crane cringes I can tell he’s fazed too. Hm. I go from all-out fearing love to gagging at it like a child.

Crane changes the subject. “So you’re retiring from being a vigilante?” 

I nod. “I’m through with that. It’s every man for himself now. Bane hasn’t figured out who I am and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Crane smirks. “What happened to helping others?”

“It got boring and pointless,” I drone darkly. “I do my good deed for the day and then I clock out. If you’d like to taunt me with my past failures then I’m afraid I must take a raincheck.”

As good as it is to know Dr. Crane’s alright, our shambles of a social relationship aren’t exactly set in stone. For all I know he’s planning to poison me again. And with all the disorder raging about that would not be the craziest way to die.

“Are you going back to Ms. Kyle’s?” Crane asks when I start to leave.

“It’s mine now. She left to get on a plane the second Bane took over.”

“Left? Without you?” 

I turn around to face him again. Do I detect a hint of concern? Jonathan knows I can survive perfectly fine on my own. Why the sudden interest?

“I don’t have anything waiting for me elsewhere,” I reply. “I got an offer for a job in Central City, but it didn’t seem right.”

“And now you’re stuck here,” he says, trying to look away but is still staring at me.

“Now I’m stuck here.” I gesture to his new ‘uniform.’ “What’s your pay here?”

He scoffs. “Gotham’s been plunged into complete anarchy. It’s practically the apocalypse, and you’re asking that?”

I tilt my head in consideration. “At least you’re not dead.”

Crane looks to the floor and busies himself with fiddling with a spray bottle of fear toxin. “That might be a better option.”

“Don’t talk like that,” I try to encourage him. “From what I hear you’ve got an important job, Judge Crane. That means you’re protected.”

Crane meets my eyes again. “It means I’m under constant surveillance,” he whispers.

Oh. I didn’t think of that. They must have been watching Crane to select him for this position. Does that mean I’m on a list too?

“I should leave while I still can,” I murmur as I discreetly look around for cameras.

“You should,” Crane agrees, still adjusting his sleeves. “It will be less stressful without you.”

Despite my efforts to ignore him my heart is still tugged by his cold words. “Gee. It’s nice to feel wanted. Goodbye-”

“Don’t go!” he blurts.

“Why?!” I fire back, feeling very confused.

His icy blue eyes flash a sudden mix of panic and despair. “I don’t know! Just- don’t go.”

“You can’t order me around!” I hiss.

“Crane! Is this bitch giving you trouble?”

Too late to keep things quiet. Now I have another guard staring me down!

“Hey! You got a name, tootz? If you ain’t one of us then you aren’t allowed here.” When I don’t flinch away he leans in closer with a malicious grin. “You don’t fear death.”

My eyes remain cold and unblinking. “Death is unavoidable. In a twisted place like Gotham, it’s bred constantly. Death would be a welcomed friend.”

Just then another guard with a beard walks over and touches my hood. “Ah, I recognize this! You’re the Raven?”

Seriously? “Reaper,” I grunt.

The guard waves it off. “Right, right. Well Reaper, we’ll let ya slide once you sit in for this next hearing.”

I’m pushed away towards the hallway. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” the guy answers. “C’mon, move it along.”

Oh my God. This is far from a normal courtroom. A giant section for citizens is off to the left while a giant pile of furniture covered in trash and toilet paper stands at the end of the room. A single chair is placed in the center. Maybe it’s my twisted humor but it’s going to be hilarious to watch this play out.

“Coming through! Next client coming through!”

I slip over to stand near the back as somebody makes room for a slimy-looking rich guy. He’s shoved into the chair and waits for the procedure to begin. Across the giant room a familiar face appears on top of the makeshift judges bench. Dr. Crane is obviously enjoying this. As if his ego can't grow any bigger. Crane bangs a gavel to signal for silence.

“Take me to Bane! Where is Bane?” The client asks.

“There’s been no mistake, Mr. Striver. You are Phillip Striver, Executive Vice President of-” Crane takes another look at a document. “Daggett Industries? Who for years has been living off the blood and sweat of people less powerful than him.”

Did I hear that right? The rich are getting sentenced to what they deserve? This is exactly what I’ve been waiting for! Who knew it had to come to this for my dream to be granted?

“I, I am one of you-” Striver tries to convince Crane.

“Bane has no authority here. This is merely a sentencing hearing.”

Um, I’m not caught up with too much, but Bane is literally standing in the same room. Right over there. Wow Crane, you’ve got guts.

“Now, the choice is yours. Exile, or death?” Dr. Crane asks with bored glee.

The crowd erupts into roars of name-calling and Crane has to make them quiet down again. Striver isn’t looking so well.

“Ex-Exile.”

“Sold!” Crane bangs the gavel and the crowd cheers. “To the old man in the cold sweat.”

Always the lover of fear. Striver is pulled out of the chair and pushed through the crowd once more. After all this I might have to tip my hat to Crane for accepting such a role.

“New clients coming through!”

Who will it be now? Mr. Garold? Judith Lexington? It’s- Commissioner Gordon? And his small gang of rebels? Striver I understand but why them?

“Gordon’s arrested?” I ask a man next to me. “On what charges?”

“The people of Gotham have taken action,” he says.

“To do what? He’s trying to help us!”

“No lawyer. No witnesses. What sort of due process is this?” the gruff Commissioner demands.

“Your guilt has been determined. This is merely a sentencing hearing,” Crane explains nonchalantly. “Now what will it be: death, or… exile?”

This is how they execute? All because some people disagree with how bad things are? This isn’t anarchy and this isn’t a people’s court. It’s a dictatorship!

Gordon isn’t impressed either. “Crane, if you think that we’re going onto that ice willingly, you have another thing coming.”

Dr. Crane nods in a sarcastic way. “Death, then.”

“Looks that way,” Gordon clarifies.

What? No! Not Gordon! He’s one of the only good cops left!

“Very well. Death!” Crane orders, then smiles blankly down at him. “By exile.”

Son of a bitch.

The group is led out just like Striver. All I can do is restrain from jumping in. I’m no match for all the brute muscle here. If I was going to intervene it would have to be an inside job. I should have known Crane would exercise loopholes. He’s probably had it out for Gordon ever since he was fired from Arkham. A compassionate city meets the special needs of its citizens. Gotham does nothing. At this point I wonder if there’s anything I can do at all to fix this mess.

“So this is how liberty dies,” I murmur as everyone around me leaves to watch Gordon’s guilt walk. “With thunderous applause.”

As much as I want to look up to Crane in his new role it still feels wrong. He is a high-authority figure, but a psycho figure nonetheless. The rioting crowd dies down and now only Crane and a few guards are left. He walks closer and the mere sight of him is making my heart fight my brain.

“Well? What did you think?” The devilish judge asks.

Bastard! Hero? Psycho! Genius? I don’t know anymore! 

Suddenly a brutish man in a hoodie stomps up and roughly taps Crane’s shoulder, giving me a stern glare. 

“Hey, miss. We need to talk about the next case.” He looks between Crane and I. “Alone. So can ya scram?”

My legs agree but my mind’s still spinning. What? We aren’t finished! 

Jonathan leans in quickly and whispers: “Meet me in the back alley.”

Oh dear.