#scarecrow x bane

[nevis-the-skeleton]

Happy Birthday Jonathan Crane!!!

[urdreamydoodles]

Batman Villains x Fem!Reader

You are a criminal hiding under the role of a psychiatrist in Arkham

You introduces yourself as a new psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum, but beneath your professional facade, you're also a criminal with your own agenda. During your sessions with Gotham’s notorious villains, you forms twisted, romantic relationships with them.

Characters: Joker, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Bane, Scarecrow, The Riddler, Two-Face & The Penguin

Joker

- You introduced yourself as the new psychiatrist in Arkham, armed with degrees and a mask of professionalism, hiding your true nature beneath the surface. Your sessions with the Joker began with cautious probing, dancing around his mind like any other doctor would. But the moment his cold, dark eyes met yours, you both knew it was a game—one neither of you intended to lose.

- His smile, wide and unhinged, widened further each session as he slowly unraveled your façade. You found yourself intrigued by him in ways you weren’t supposed to be. The chaos he offered was intoxicating, his unpredictable mind a puzzle you craved to solve. And while you knew the risks, you couldn’t help but draw closer to his madness. In your second session, his laughter became personal, no longer mocking Arkham's walls but meant for you.

- Joker had a way of pulling you in, teasing out the criminal lurking beneath your skin. You weren’t just a doctor—you were a kindred spirit, someone who understood his twisted view of the world. He could see it in the glint of your eyes when you spoke to him about Gotham’s hypocrisy, about the system’s flaws. And one day, as you were closing your notebook, his voice cut through the air: "You’re not one of them, doc. You’re like me."

- Your heart raced, but you played it cool, chuckling softly as if you weren’t shaken to the core. From then on, your sessions turned into something more intimate. Conversations turned into whispered secrets, truths about your past crimes, the people you manipulated to rise in the criminal underworld. Joker reveled in it, seeing the darkness he knew you were hiding. He began to speak about you in ways that made your pulse quicken, about how you could rule Gotham together, throw the city into disarray with your combined intellect and chaos.

- The tipping point came when, during a particularly charged session, he reached across the table, his gloved fingers brushing yours. There was a promise in that touch, something raw and dangerous. The lines between doctor and patient blurred completely when he pressed his lips against yours, leaving a smear of red lipstick on your mouth. You didn’t pull away—you couldn’t. Instead, you let him pull you into his world of madness, where logic twisted into a wicked kind of love.

- After that day, it wasn’t just therapy anymore. You became his accomplice, helping him from the inside, pulling strings behind Arkham’s walls. And when he finally escaped, you were right there beside him, both of you laughing at the chaos you would unleash. You weren’t just the Joker’s psychiatrist—you were his queen of madness, his partner in crime, and Gotham was yours to play with.

Harley Quinn

- When you walked into Arkham as the new psychiatrist, you were immediately drawn to her. Harley Quinn, the infamous former doctor turned criminal, sat across from you, her playful smirk never faltering. But you knew better than to take her lightly. Behind her giggles and flirtations was a woman who had once been where you were, a professional undone by obsession. Little did Harley know, you had the same spark of madness within you, hidden under the guise of professionalism.

- Your sessions with Harley were like a dance, a back-and-forth of wit and insight. She would tease you about your job, mock the way you spoke in clinical terms, but you both knew she was testing you. You always answered with a smirk of your own, showing her that you weren’t as buttoned-up as you seemed. You weren’t just here to analyze her—you were here to connect, to peel back the layers of her mind because you saw yourself in her.

- One day, during a session, she leaned in close, her eyes flickering with interest. "You know, doc, you remind me of someone." Her voice was low, almost conspiratorial, and you knew she meant herself. You chuckled, leaning back in your chair. "I’ve heard that before." She narrowed her eyes, suddenly serious. "You ain’t like the others." And she was right. You weren’t.

- You started to let bits of your real self slip through, sharing small pieces of your criminal side with her. You knew she would understand, maybe even admire it. Harley watched you carefully as you spoke about the schemes you had been part of, the power you wielded under the radar. She loved it. And before long, your sessions were less about her and more about the connection between the two of you.

- The day she kissed you was a blur of impulsive passion. After a particularly heated exchange, Harley had grabbed your tie, yanking you toward her, your lips crashing together. There was no hesitation on your part, only a thrilling sense of liberation. You were no longer pretending to be the psychiatrist, and Harley wasn’t just your patient. You were equals, two criminals playing a dangerous game of love and power.

- From that moment on, you were inseparable. You used your position to smuggle things in for her, weapons and plans for her next big heist. Harley, in return, made you feel alive in a way no one else ever could. She saw your darkness and embraced it, encouraging you to step deeper into the life you had been hiding. You became her partner in crime, but unlike the Joker, you weren’t controlling her. You were both free in each other’s chaos, equals in madness.

- The day you helped her escape Arkham was the beginning of something wild. Together, you wreaked havoc on Gotham, her unpredictable energy and your calculated cunning making you an unstoppable duo. You were Harley’s new obsession, but it wasn’t one-sided. She was yours too. You weren’t just another doctor who fell for the wrong patient—you were a criminal mastermind who found the perfect match in Harley Quinn.

Poison Ivy

- You introduced yourself to Arkham as just another psychiatrist, another cog in the system. But from the moment you sat down across from her, the infamous Poison Ivy, you knew you were dealing with someone who could see through your façade. Her green eyes were sharp, watching you with a knowing look as you asked your initial questions. You were careful, though. You knew better than to underestimate a woman like her.

- Each session was a test, a game of wits between the two of you. Ivy wasn’t like the others—you couldn’t simply manipulate her or play into her weaknesses. She was strong, both mentally and physically, her connection to nature giving her a kind of power you admired. And she could sense something off about you, something that didn’t fit with the usual Arkham doctor. You were good at hiding it, but not good enough. "You’re not just a shrink, are you?" she asked one day, a sly smile playing at her lips.

- You leaned back, meeting her gaze evenly. "And you’re not just a criminal." It was an admission, a silent agreement that you were both more than you appeared. Ivy’s curiosity grew from that moment, and so did yours. She wasn’t just another patient to you—she was a woman who had taken control of her life, her body, and the world around her. You respected her, even admired her strength, something you had always craved for yourself.

- Slowly, your conversations turned into something more intimate. You shared pieces of your own life with her, your involvement in the criminal underworld, your ability to manipulate others without them ever realizing it. Ivy listened carefully, her expression neutral, but you could tell she was interested. She liked the idea of someone who wasn’t afraid to challenge the system from the inside, someone who understood the game she was playing.

- One day, she leaned in close, her fingers brushing against your wrist, sending a strange, almost electric pulse through your skin. "You’re beautiful," she whispered, her voice low and sultry. You felt your heart skip a beat, but you didn’t pull away. You were drawn to her, to the danger, to the idea of losing yourself in her world. It wasn’t long before your professional boundaries crumbled, and you found yourself kissing her, tasting the sweet poison of her lips. It was intoxicating, like nothing you’d ever experienced before.

- From that moment on, your relationship was no longer confined to Arkham. You helped her in secret, bringing her the resources she needed, aiding her in her environmental crusades. Ivy saw the criminal in you and nurtured it, just like one of her plants. She didn’t want to control you—she wanted to empower you, and you let her. Together, you became a force to be reckoned with, a dangerous duo that Gotham wouldn’t soon forget. Poison Ivy had claimed you, body and soul, and you loved every minute of it.

Bane

- Your arrival in Arkham as the new psychiatrist was unremarkable to most, but when you were assigned to Bane, things took a darker turn. His reputation was terrifying, the man who broke the Bat, a living embodiment of strength and intelligence. But you weren’t afraid. You were drawn to him, to the power he represented, both physical and mental. You had always craved control, and Bane was the perfect subject—someone you could manipulate, or so you thought.

- Your sessions with Bane began like any other, with you trying to delve into his psyche, trying to understand the mind behind the monster. But he was different from the others. Bane wasn’t just brute strength—he was calculating, strategic, and he quickly saw through your act. He didn’t say it right away, but you could feel his eyes on you, watching, waiting for you to slip up.

- It didn’t take long for him to speak up. "You’re not here to fix me," he said one day, his voice deep and commanding. You froze, knowing you couldn’t hide from him anymore. "No," you admitted, a smirk tugging at your lips. "I’m not." You weren’t just a psychiatrist—you were a criminal, someone who had risen through Gotham’s underworld, and you wanted to understand the man who had brought the city to its knees.

- Bane respected honesty, and from that moment, your dynamic shifted. He didn’t see you as a doctor anymore—he saw you as an equal, someone with the same hunger for power that he had. You were fascinated by his mind, by the way he strategized and planned every move. He was a genius, far beyond what most people gave him credit for, and you couldn’t help but admire him.

- The tension between you grew with each session. Bane was controlled, disciplined, but you could see the way his eyes lingered on you, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you. It was subtle, but it was there. You were drawn to his strength, to the raw power he exuded, and you knew he felt the same. One day, after a particularly intense session, you found yourself standing too close to him, the air thick with unspoken desire. His hand, large and calloused, reached out to gently touch your cheek, his eyes dark with intent.

- "You are more than they realize," he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a heated, dangerous kiss. There was no softness in it—only raw passion and the unspoken understanding that you were both forces of nature, bound by a mutual respect and hunger for power.

- From that day on, you were no longer his psychiatrist. You were his partner, his equal in every sense of the word. Bane trusted you in ways he trusted no one else, and you used that trust to help him plot his next move against Gotham. You were the brains behind his brawn, working together to bring the city to its knees once again. You loved him, not just for his strength but for his mind, for the way he saw the world and molded it to his will. Together, you were unstoppable, a force that no one could stand against. And you reveled in the chaos you would unleash.

Scarecrow

- When you first introduced yourself as the new psychiatrist at Arkham, you were already aware of Jonathan Crane's reputation. The master of fear, the Scarecrow, was infamous for his obsession with the mind's darkest corners. But what intrigued you wasn’t just his fixation on fear—it was the brilliance behind it, the cold, calculating intellect that twisted psychology into something deadly. You weren’t there to cure him, though. Beneath your polished exterior, you had your own darkness, your own secrets, and a hunger to learn from someone like him.

- From the first session, there was a tension in the air. Crane wasn’t like the other patients who tried to charm or manipulate you—he studied you, analyzing every word, every gesture. His voice was calm, his demeanor almost detached, but you could see the wheels turning in his mind. He knew you weren’t like the other doctors. "You’re curious," he remarked, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But not about my recovery."

- You smirked, leaning back in your chair. "No, Dr. Crane. I’m curious about your work." That was the moment he saw you for what you were—a kindred spirit, someone who wasn’t afraid of fear but fascinated by it. Your sessions became less about psychology and more about power. Crane saw potential in you, and you in him. You started talking about fear on a deeper level, about how it controlled people, how it could be harnessed and used.

- As the weeks passed, you found yourself drawn to his mind, the way he saw fear not as a weakness but as a tool. You began to share your own experiences, the times you had manipulated fear in others to get what you wanted. Crane listened, his interest piqued, and for the first time, he opened up about his own experiments, the thrill he felt when watching his victims crumble under his toxin’s effects.

- One evening, after a particularly intense session, you found yourselves standing close, too close for a professional boundary. His hand brushed against yours, sending a jolt through you. His eyes, dark and penetrating, locked onto yours. "You don’t fear me, do you?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. You shook your head, smiling. "I admire you." That was all it took. In an instant, his lips were on yours, the kiss filled with an electric tension that had been building for weeks.

- From that moment on, your relationship was no longer patient and doctor. You became his confidante, his partner in exploring the darkest aspects of the human psyche. He showed you things no one else knew about—his latest fear toxin formulas, his plans for Arkham and Gotham. You helped him, using your position to cover his tracks, to gather resources, and to watch as he slowly gained more control over the asylum.

- But it wasn’t just about fear anymore. It was about power, control, and a twisted form of love that grew between the two of you. Jonathan Crane wasn’t just your patient—he was your equal, your partner in crime, and the two of you reveled in the chaos you could create together. The city would learn to fear you both, and you’d savor every moment of it.

The Riddler

- Arkham had seen many doctors come and go, but when you introduced yourself to Edward Nygma, better known as the Riddler, he immediately knew you were different. You weren’t just another psychiatrist trying to “fix” him. No, there was something in your eyes, something calculating. You enjoyed puzzles, mysteries, and games of wit—just like he did. You weren’t there to cure him. You were there to challenge him.

- Your first session was more of a mental sparring match than a therapy session. Nygma tested you with riddles, trying to throw you off balance, to make you stumble. But you never missed a beat. Every time he threw a challenge your way, you met it with ease, answering his riddles with a smirk. "Impressive," he said, leaning back in his chair. "But you’re hiding something, aren’t you, doctor?"

- You tilted your head, feigning innocence, but you both knew he was right. Edward Nygma thrived on solving puzzles, and you were a puzzle he wanted to crack. But what he didn’t realize was that you were just as much a player in this game as he was. As the sessions progressed, you began to drop hints, letting him see glimpses of the criminal mind beneath your professional exterior. It fascinated him, the idea that you weren’t just there to help, but that you had your own agenda.

- One day, during a particularly charged conversation about Gotham’s elite and their weaknesses, Nygma leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "You’re like me, aren’t you? You see the world for what it is—a game. And we’re the ones smart enough to win." You didn’t deny it. Instead, you smiled, leaning closer. "Maybe I am."

- That was the turning point. From then on, your sessions were no longer about his rehabilitation—they were about planning. You shared your own insights into Gotham’s corruption, its flaws, its riddles. Nygma loved it. You became partners, planning your own schemes from inside Arkham’s walls. You used your position to feed him information, to help him plot his escape and his next big move.

- The chemistry between you grew with every session, the tension crackling between the two of you like static. It all came to a head one night when, after hours of trading riddles and plotting, Edward stood and crossed the room, pulling you close. "I always did enjoy a good mystery," he whispered before his lips met yours in a fierce, possessive kiss.

- After that, you were inseparable. You weren’t just partners in crime—you were lovers, bound by a shared intellect and a thirst for control. Nygma trusted you in a way he trusted no one else, and you used that trust to help him execute his plans, bending Gotham to your will. Together, you were unstoppable, a pair of masterminds who thrived on chaos and complexity. The city was your playground, and every riddle, every challenge, only brought you closer.

Two-Face

- When you walked into the room for your first session with Harvey Dent, you knew you weren’t meeting the famed district attorney Gotham once adored. No, you were staring at a man who had been broken by fate, his face a stark reminder of the chaos that ruled his life now. But you didn’t flinch. You introduced yourself calmly, sitting across from him like you would any other patient, knowing full well you had your own reasons for being here.

- Two-Face sized you up immediately, his scarred eye twitching slightly as he watched your every move. "Why are you here?" he asked, his voice low and suspicious. You smirked, leaning back in your chair. "Maybe I’m just curious about how someone like you thinks," you replied coolly. He chuckled darkly, flipping his coin in the air. "No one’s ever *just curious* about me, doll."

- Your sessions were a constant tug-of-war. Harvey’s dual nature fascinated you—how he constantly struggled between his desire for justice and the dark side that had overtaken him. You, too, had a duality hidden beneath the surface. You played the part of the psychiatrist well, but beneath that, you were a criminal, drawn to chaos just like him. And as much as he tried to intimidate you, you didn’t back down, and he noticed.

- Harvey respected your strength. The more you pushed back, the more interested he became. He saw something in you, something different from the other doctors who had tried to “fix” him. One day, after a particularly heated session, he tossed the coin in the air, catching it in his palm before smirking. "You know, I’ve got a feeling you’re not so innocent yourself." You met his gaze evenly. "What if I’m not?" That was the moment you saw the shift in his eyes—the dual sides of Harvey Dent were no longer fighting each other, they were intrigued by you.

- It wasn’t long before your relationship took a darker, more intimate turn. One night, after hours of discussing Gotham’s corruption and his place in it, Harvey stood from his chair and crossed the room, pulling you close. The kiss was rough, almost desperate, as if he was trying to claim you as his, but you didn’t resist. You wanted it, wanted him. There was something thrilling about the danger, the unpredictability that came with Two-Face.

- From that moment on, you were his partner in more than just therapy. You helped him plan, working from within Arkham’s walls, aiding him in gathering resources for his next move against Gotham. You fed into both sides of him—the one that craved order and the one that loved chaos. Two-Face trusted you in a way he hadn’t trusted anyone since his fall, and together, you were unstoppable. His coin may have decided fate, but you held the real power in your hands, manipulating the outcome to suit your shared goals. You were drawn to the danger, and with Two-Face by your side, you reveled in the chaos.

The Penguin

- As you introduced yourself to Oswald Cobblepot in Arkham, you could feel his eyes assessing you from head to toe. The Penguin was a man who built his empire on manipulation, control, and knowing exactly who to trust—and who to use. But you weren’t just another psychiatrist walking into his cell. You had your own agenda, and the second you sat down, you knew Penguin would be a challenge worth taking on.

- Oswald wasn’t subtle. "So, what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a dump like this?" he sneered, the cane in his hand tapping the ground softly. You smiled, unphased by his attempt to unnerve you. "Just trying to understand what makes you tick, Mr. Cobblepot." He chuckled, clearly amused. "Is that so? Or are you here for something a little more… profitable?" He had you pegged, and you didn’t deny it. Penguin wasn’t someone who responded to weakness. He respected ambition, and you had plenty of it.

- The sessions became a delicate dance. You learned quickly that Penguin wasn’t just a gangster—he was a mastermind, always ten steps ahead of everyone else in the room. He loved the game, the power plays, the manipulation. And you knew how to play the game just as well. Every conversation with him was layered with unspoken meaning, your words carefully chosen to show you weren’t just another Arkham shrink. Oswald began to respect you, intrigued by your sharp mind and your ability to keep up with him.

- It wasn’t long before the lines blurred between professional and personal. Penguin’s calculating gaze would linger on you a little too long, his smirks becoming something more suggestive. "You’ve got a real talent for this," he’d say during one of your sessions, his voice low and dripping with amusement. "Maybe you should be working for me instead of this place." You didn’t disagree. In fact, the idea thrilled you. Gotham’s underworld was where you truly belonged, and Penguin saw it.

- One evening, after a particularly intense conversation about Gotham’s crime families, Oswald stood, walking around his desk with that unmistakable limp. He stood close, closer than ever before, his hand gently brushing your arm. "You and me, we could run this town," he whispered, his eyes dark with ambition and something more. You felt the electricity between you, the pull of power and attraction, and when he leaned in, you didn’t pull away. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and filled with the promise of what could come.

- After that, you were no longer just his psychiatrist. You became his confidante, his right hand, and eventually, his lover. Together, you plotted his rise back to the top, using your position in Arkham to gather information and pull strings. Penguin admired your cunning, your beauty, and your ambition. You weren’t just someone he used—you were someone he trusted, and in his world, that was more valuable than anything.

- You found yourself falling deeper into Gotham’s criminal underworld, by his side. Oswald respected your mind as much as your beauty, and you thrived in the power he gave you. The city became your playground, and together, you schemed to take it all. Penguin may have been a ruthless crime lord, but with you, he was something more—an equal. And together, no one could stand in your way.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Who fell first and who fell harder

Joker: You fell first and harder

Harley Quinn: She fell first and harder

Catwoman: She fell first and harder

Riddler: He fell first but you fell harder

Penguin: He fell first and harder

Scarecrow: You fell first but he fell harder

Deathstroke: You fell first and harder

Bane: He fell first but you fell harder

Mr Freeze: He fell first and harder

Two-Face: He fell first but you fell harder

Poison Ivy: You fell first but she fell harder

Killer Croc: You fell first and harder

[wisteriaiswriting]

ᴀʀᴋʜᴀᴍ ᴀꜱʏʟᴜᴍ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

I write for any of the listed characters either, x character or x reader (Male or Gender neutral.)

Check out my main masterlist!

[4] total works

Villains:

ʙᴀɴᴇ |

ʜᴀʀʟᴇʏ Qᴜɪɴɴ |

ᴋɪʟʟᴇʀ ᴄʀᴏᴄ |

ᴘᴏɪꜱᴏɴ ɪᴠʏ |

Caring for your child while Ivy is in Arkham

ꜱᴄᴀʀᴇᴄʀᴏᴡ |

Dating Headcanons

Blasting a love song from outside

ᴛʜᴇ ᴊᴏᴋᴇʀ |

Heros:

ʙᴀᴛᴍᴀɴ [ʙʀᴜᴄᴇ ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ] |

Cuddling Headcanons

Civilians:

ᴏʀᴀᴄʟᴇ [ʙᴀʀʙᴀʀᴀ ��ᴏʀᴅᴏɴ ᴅʀᴀᴋᴇ] |

Dating Headcanons

Cuddling Headcanons

[ilovelosermen69]

Who told batman villains they could be so hot?

[le-sluagh]

#12 Incorrect Batman: Vigilante (My AU)

Penguin: Mad Hatter learned how to fold origami penguins from me the other day. I told him as a joke, “I feel a little bad for the penguins, it’s hot here”, and the next day he put them in the fridge.

*****

Catwoman: It's locked. You got a lock pick?

Riddler: Yeah-

Two Face: *kicks in the door*

*****

Riddler: Hey, check out my Question Mark umbrella!

*Riddler opens his umbrella while indoors*

Mad Hatter: Riddler, that’s bad luck…

Riddler: Chill out, Mad Hatter!

Scarecrow, kicking down the door: WHO SUMMONED ME?!?!

Riddler and Mad Hatter: *screams*

*****

Joker: *walking around disappointed after visiting an aquarium*

Lex Luthor: Joker, what did you think a tiger shark was?

*****

Two Face: WHO ATE MY BREAD?!

Two Face: I'M GOING TO FUCKING K-

Grace Lamont: I did?

Harvey Dent: Kiss you and buy some more, you haven't been eating anything today, Grace.

*****

Riddler: I love being right. It’s one of my favorite personality traits.

*****

Lex Luthor: Some people say that I have a god complex. I’d like to think that I’m a complex god.

*****

Mad Hatter: I have a bad feeling about this...

Scarecrow: What do you mean?

Mad Hatter: Don't you ever get that little voice in your head that tells you if you're going to get into trouble?

Scarecrow: No?

Riddler: That actually explains so much.

*****

Computer: Please enter a password.

Joker: *types in Batman*

Computer: Your password is too weak.

Joker: How DARE YOU-

*****

March Harriet: Do you feel any better?

Mad Hatter: I feel much better now that you here with me.

*Music Meister walks in*

Mad Hatter: I feel half better.

*****

Bane: Can I have your number?

Scarecrow, visible texting: I don't have a phone.

[pjthetoonaddict]

Dragon Con was AMAZING!

Got to show off my Bombshells Sinestro Cosplay, and got to meet the CREATOR of Bombshells Sinestro, Ant Lucia! (where I got an AMAZING signed print of the legendary Jessica Cruz).

I also got some amazing art from @schweizercomics (who actually taught my professor at KSU).

Side note, I was finally able to "propose" to my comic book crush, Mr. Freeze.

[helpfandom]

Sneak peek at something probably posted in like 4 months.

@yanderefangirl

Yandere! Batman Rouges Gallery x Platonic OCD! Reader.

I have OCD and this is off of MY version and experiences with OCD. I would be most grateful if anyone had other ideas or plots (like the episode Lock-Up but with the reader.)Reader's kind of... angry? I don't know how else to explain it.

TW//CW: Suicide (Mentions of, not anyone doing) Canon-typical violence, cursing,

God, you couldn't believe it came to this. Honestly, why were you here anyway, it's not like you belong with the criminals. This was just so that they could try and teach the insane to be nicer, to not be criminals.

Honestly, they shouldn't have chosen you, you kind of belonged in here. The way that people would look at you when you twitched, a singular mis-fire in your brain made people think there was something wrong with you. Like you belonged with the freaks of Arkham. Well, one too many jokes about suicide and jokes of your trauma and BOOM! You've been chosen for our unpaid internship at Arkham, too bad you have to stay here you freak! God. It pisses you off to feel their stares of judgement on the streets.

To feel their pity. Batman saves you from a bridge too many times and you're involuntarily put in here.

You walked, two guards right beside you. Their shoes clacking against the tile. One of them was touching you and it made your body feel off. A misfire, and your head jerks to the right. "Please stop touching me." They give you a stern look. Panic filters your brain. "I can walk myself. I'm a big kid." You crack a smile at the last part, makes it easier to tell when it's a joke. They keep staring at you, you misfire, and then the second guard takes their hand off of your shoulder. Great. Now more people think you belong in here. Misfire. Misfire, this time nodding your head. Misfire. Jeezy creezy. "Sorry." You continue walking with them, but you can tell that they're staring at you.

Or is the phenomena of Spotlight, where you delude yourself into thinking that everyone is staring at you. Nevertheless, you can feel them looking at you.

Not just the guards, but the inmates too, the other ones. The ones you belong with. Not the fucking insane criminals.They watch you, a teen, get walked- misfire -to the criminal side of the asylum. It's quiet, but there are whispers. Of course, part of you says that they're talking about you, but is it just because you're being moved to the criminals, or is it because you -misfire- look like you belong here? The other part says it's narcissistic to think they're talking about you.

You reach the doors, steel, heavy steel to make sure that they don't cross over to the section you belong in, misfire, to the people that can be helped.

[guiltgal]

Part 8 of my dc x pokemon series. Taking a break from the batfamily oncd more to bring you the Gotham rogues gallary!

The Gotham City Sirens will be a separate post.

Scarecrow/ Dr. Jonathan Crane:

Gotham Raticate

Ariados

Modified Skuntank

Musharna

Dustox

Gourgeist (Biggest)

Cacturne

Two-Face/ Harvey Dent Esq.:

Plusle & Minun

Vanilluxe

Morpeko

Mabosstiff

Scovillain

Zweilous (everstone)

Gimmighoul (Roaming Form)

Mr. Freeze/ Dr. Victor Fries:

Castform

Froslass (Nora)

Beartic

Avalugg

Cryogonal

Frosmoth

The Penguin/ Oswald Cobblepot:

Psyduck

Empoleon

Honchkrow

Mandibuzz

Bergmite

Eiscue

The Riddler/ Edward Nigma:

Bidoof

Rotom

Espathra

Kadabra

Klefki

Gumshoos

Unown ?

Clayface/ Basil Karlo:

Muk

Ditto

Kecleon

Garbodor

Mudsdale

Zoroark

Bane:

Primeape

Machamp

Emboar

Hawlucha

Bronzong

Garchomp

Killer Croc/ Waylon Jones:

Machamp

Feraligatr

Krookodile

Poliwrath

Skeledirge

Mad Hatter/ Dr. Jervis Tetch:

Hypno

Slowking

Hatterene

Dedenne

Bunnelby

Sinistea

Joker:

Twisted Mr. Mime

Seviper

Blacephalon

Gengar

Trubbish

Malamar

Weezing

Shiny Bruxish

[sl-newsie]

Behind Masks (Dr. Jonathon Crane x OC) Ch. 24: Love You To Death

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

It was all a lie. Dr. Crane gets the last laugh after all.

My heart drops into my stomach as a guard grips my arms behind me and forces me to stand. I’m led out of the echoing courtroom to the back door. The alley. Where they put bullets through skulls. And now it’s my turn. 

Congratulations, Prentiss. You finally went all the way off the deep end. How could I be such an idiot? All this time I thought… It doesn’t matter now. All I can think about now is how much I hope this will be quick and painless. As painless as being shot in the head can be. 

“On your knees!” The brute orders and kicks me down.

My knees scrape against the pavement. The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters.

“Any final comments, Reaper?” The guard taunts.

He restoreth my soul; he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. 

“Hello? Are you still here?” He pokes me and I feel the gun press to my temple. “Whatever. Say bye-bye-”

“Stop right there.”

Crane’s voice makes me want to bash my head against the ground. He makes me feel so naïve! If I could work my will I would rip his black heart out and then tear out my own shriveled heart. I hear his footsteps get closer until he’s standing right next to me. I don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing my broken spirit. Just pull the trigger already.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies. Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

Crane kneels down next to me and I feel his breathing against my cheek. “Hold your breath and count to ten.”

Hiss! 

The familiar sound of a canister clicking open sends my body reacting on autopilot. I sweep my leg under the gunman, tripping him and sending him crashing to the ground as the fear gas spreads over him. Jonathan helps me to my feet and we watch with shared delight as the man spasms in terror.

“No- No! Get away!” 

Jonathan grabs my hand and I want to scream a million questions at him. Was this a trick? Is this some sort of rescue mission?

Crane pulls me back from the hallucinating man. “Hurry! Before someone-”

“Hey! What the Hell is this?” Another voice yells from down the street. 

A group of citizens wanders into sight. When they see the man screaming on the ground they begin to charge. Crane and I break into a run but he’s too slow. In the corner of my eye I see him get snatched and I turn around to see the mob pin him to the ground. 

“Wait-!” I gasp.

Thud! Thud!

The raging citizens kick at his ribs and Jonathon lets out a muffled cry. The sound makes my blood run cold. Not from the sight of the blood gushing from his mouth. But from the pained gasps and the horror seen behind his piercing blue eyes. An all-too-familiar feeling creeps across my skin. Fear. And this time I react differently.

I grip my knife and slice through one of the people. Blood gushes from the wound and they crumple to the ground. But I don’t stop. Stab. Stab. Cut. Cut. My body stiffens and all I can do is push the wounded citizens off of Jonathon’s limp body. He’s breathing. He’s still conscious. That alone helps to calm my pulse.

What does not supply relief is the pile of bleeding people moaning in pain. Guilt pools in my stomach. So much injury caused by such a small blade…

“C-Calico,” Dr. Crane stutters, clutching his side on the ground behind me. 

It snaps me out of my trance. “Come on. More will come. I will be hunted for dead once they see what I’ve done. And what you committed as well.”

I gently grip his shoulder and help him stand. He is in no condition to flee. Instead I’m forced to lean his nearly limp body against my shoulder to carry half his weight, leading Crane back to his penthouse. 

By the time we get to the bottom of the building’s stairs he’s gripping me to stay standing. The whole way up the stairs Jonathon spurts out gasps of pain. Each tortuous breath makes my heart race even faster. Gone is the man who did not hesitate to mock my weaknesses. Instead I am carrying a man who looks as if life has nearly been pushed out of him. 

I kick open the penthouse door and drag Jonathon to the couch. When he lies his head on the cushion his eyes fly open to stare at me.

“Calm your breathing,” I finally speak. “More than likely your ribs are bruised or broken so it will only make things worse.” I pause a second and swallow my jumping nerves. “Was that- Did you do that to save me?”

Even though he’s wincing in pain Jonathan still rolls his eyes. “Not really a rescue mission so much as a beating.”

Despite his attempt at a joke I cannot relax. I shakily take his hand and stare into those calculating eyes. 

“Remember when I said there’s nothing you can do to change my fear?” Crane nods slowly. “You did. I no longer fear failure. First I thought it was the fear of being loved, then it was fear of being alone. But now the greatest terror my mind can conjure is seeing you hurt like this. The fear of being alone without you.”

Something changes in Jonathon’s face. The shadow of doubt. “You must be in shock.”

I shake my head. “We all wear masks, Jonathan. Some… less obvious than others. Sometimes we’re trapped behind them, sometimes we hide behind them. Use them to lie, cheat, love…”

“How can you love someone behind a mask?” Dr. Crane murmurs.

A hint of a playful smile crosses my face. “You should know. You’ve been witnessing it first-hand.”

It clicks. Jonathan immediately catches my confession and pulls his head back. “This isn’t real. This can’t be real. This is all a hallucination…”

His disbelief saddens me. “What makes you say that?”

“Because I can’t love you,” Jonathan whispers and brings a hand up to touch my scraped cheek. “My obsession is fear. I can’t… but I want to.”

This is what we’ve been circling around. His obsession with fear and my spiraling mind. I guess the pressure of my fear set me off and Jonathon’s helped me to pick up the pieces. Why do our passions need to separate us when they are what caused our attraction in the first place?

“Being insane doesn’t make you incapable of love,” I reason.

Jonathan scoffs. “Clearly that’s proven by Quinzel and the Joker.”

My eyes narrow. “You’re basing this off of them?”

“Right. Good point. We’re much more civilized.” His eyes soften and begin to scan me. “I respect the mind’s power over the body. It’s how I do what I do. And right now my mind is trying not to dwindle on your intriguing mind... and your body too.”

I can finally admit it to myself. I’ve fallen in love with Dr. Jonathan Crane.

“No matter how hard I study it, no amount of books or research can help me understand romantic involvement.”

“Is this a new fear I see, Prentiss?” Jonathan asks, fascinated. “Philophobia, perhaps?”

I arch a brow. “Are you really going to mock my confession when we both know I’m more than capable of punching your teeth out right now?”

He licks some blood off his lips. “You can do that after I kiss you.”

And I let him. Jonathan leans in and captures me in the same mesmerizing feeling as before. Despite the metallic taste of blood the touch of his lips still makes me go limp. He pulls me closer until my upper half is lying on the couch next to him. I want to allow his embrace but don’t want to risk hurting his ribs.

Jonathan pulls away and leans his forehead to mine.  “Who knew my favorite patient would be my downfall? The death-obsessed Reaper.”

I give a small chuckle. “Sounds like a new method of murder. Do you think I’m going to love you to death?”

He lets out an annoyed groan. “As cheesy as that sounds, that wouldn’t be such a bad way to go if it was coming from you.”

“Are you going soft on me, doctor?” I tease and move a strand of his hair from his face.

“My mind is still wild enough to keep you guessing, Dr. Prentiss,” he smirks. “It is my ribs who have gone soft.”

Right. His injuries. “Would you like me to examine them?” I ask in a more serious manner.

Jonathan’s smile widens. “Darling, you never have to ask to examine me.”

I roll my eyes and tug away his shirt, ignoring his pained grunt. The bruising on his chest looks like a rigid pattern against his pale skin. This is the first time seeing him nearly shirtless and I can’t say I’m disappointed. There’s no question that he’s as skinny as he appears. Some girls might find this unappealing but it’s not his scrawny physique that attracts me. It’s his ‘wid mind,’ clever wit, and those eyes that stare at me as if I’m the center of his universe.

“Are you still here, sweetheart?”

My head jerks up. How long have I been staring- er, examining? Jonathan’s looking at me like I’m a child caught stealing a cookie from the jar.

“I- I’m still here.”

“That bad, hm?” He looks down at his wounds.

“No, it’s worse. You are still Dr. Crane,” I joke and playfully nudge his shoulder. “You’re fine. It looks like only bruising, no broken ribs. The best I can do is suggest bedrest and possibly dig up some narcotics around here. I don't know how long until someone comes looking for us but we'll cross that bridge when it appears. Sit tight. I’ll get a cloth to clean off the dirt.”

I sit up and begin to stand-

“You’re tending to me? After what…”

Jonathan trails off and I sense a touch of guilt in his voice. He must be talking about what transpired in Arkham.

“You’re right, Dr. Crane. If it weren’t for you I might still have half of my sanity left.” He hangs his head and I change to a more caring tone. “And if it weren’t for you I never would have believed I could fall in love. You made me into who I was supposed to be and you love me anyway. You’re in love with a killer and I’m in love with a mad scientist.”

Jonathan’s guilty face softens. “I suppose we’re both damaged. You know, Dr. Prentiss, you attract what you fear.”

I press another kiss to his cheek. “I guess I won the fear lottery.”

[joyjoy-the-troll]

Happy (late) Valentine day!

[nevis-the-skeleton]

Batman Wither Heart: Doodles Collection 1

Young Harvey and Harv, Duality

Jonathan and Jervis, Movie Night

Some draws of Jonathan

Jervis, Controlled

Jonathan, Psych

Jonathan x Crane (BaneCrow), Dance

Scarecrow, Fear is coming

[urdreamydoodles]

Bat-Villains x Reader

They realize they love you after a nightmare about you dying

Characters: Joker, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Bane, Scarecrow, Two-Face, The Riddler & The Penguin

The Joker

- The Joker had always laughed at the idea of love. It was messy, inconvenient, and far too human for someone as “elevated” as him. So, when the nightmare came—your lifeless body crumpled beneath the rubble of some grim Gotham alley—it caught him off guard. His cackles turned to hollow echoes as he screamed your name, the vibrant color of his world bleeding into dull gray.

- He jolted awake with a gasp, his face covered in a rare sheen of sweat. His usual smirk was absent as his wild eyes darted around the room, landing on your sleeping form beside him. You were alive, breathing softly, your face peaceful in slumber. The sight of you alive was a jolt to his twisted heart.

- For the first time in a long while, he didn’t laugh. He sat there, his thoughts in chaos, a war between his denial and the crushing realization that he couldn’t imagine a world without you. It scared him more than Batman ever could. He clenched his fists, trying to suppress the emotions bubbling to the surface.

- “This is ridiculous,” he muttered, his voice shaking. But his hand moved on its own, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. You stirred slightly, murmuring something incoherent, and he froze, a flicker of vulnerability flashing in his usually unhinged eyes.

- He stayed awake for hours, staring at you, convincing himself that this was just some fleeting weakness. But the image of your death lingered, gnawing at him, turning his denial into reluctant acceptance. “You’ve done it, haven’t you?” he whispered bitterly. “You’ve made the Clown Prince of Crime care.”

- The next morning, his usual theatrics were toned down. He stayed unusually close to you, his hand lingering on yours longer than normal. You raised an eyebrow at his behavior, and he waved it off with a manic laugh, but deep inside, he knew he’d never let you out of his sight again.

- That night, he held you a little tighter than usual, his arms wrapped around you as if to shield you from the world. “You’re mine,” he whispered into the darkness, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “And no one will take you from me. Not even death.”

Harleen Quinzel aka. Harley Quinn

- Harley’s dreams were usually chaotic, filled with explosions, bright colors, and nonsensical antics. But this one was different. It was dark, quiet, and horrifying. She saw you, broken and bleeding, calling out to her with your last breath. No amount of laughter or jokes could save you.

- She woke with a start, her heart pounding and tears streaming down her cheeks. “Puddin’?!” she gasped instinctively, but then her eyes landed on you. You were there, next to her, your chest rising and falling steadily. Relief washed over her, and she let out a shaky laugh.

- Harley wasn’t one to dwell on emotions—she usually masked them with jokes and a bubbly exterior. But this dream? It shook her to her core. She sat up, her hands trembling as she reached out to touch your face, as if reassuring herself you were real.

- “What’s goin’ on with me?” she whispered to herself. She knew the answer deep down but wasn’t ready to admit it. The thought of losing you had torn her apart in the dream, and the intensity of her feelings scared her.

- For the rest of the night, she stayed awake, her mind racing. She replayed every moment with you, every smile, every laugh, and every time you’d stood by her side. “Guess I’m hooked,” she murmured with a small, bittersweet smile.

- The next day, she was more clingy than usual, following you around and cracking even more jokes than normal. You noticed her odd behavior, but she brushed it off with a wink and a kiss on the cheek. “Just feelin’ extra lovey-dovey today, sugar!”

- That night, as you lay in her arms, she finally whispered the words she’d been too scared to say aloud. “I love ya, ya know? Like… the real kinda love, not the crazy kinda love. Well, maybe a lil’ crazy, but still real.” She kissed your forehead, her heart lighter than it had been in years.

Pamela Isley aka. Poison Ivy

- Pamela’s dreams were rarely nightmares. But this one? It was a haunting vision of you lying lifeless among her beloved plants, your blood staining the green foliage. The image was so vivid, so horrifying, that it shattered her usual composure.

- She woke with a sharp inhale, her breath catching in her throat. Her eyes darted to your side of the bed, relief flooding her as she saw you curled up peacefully. The nightmare lingered, though, its dark tendrils wrapping around her thoughts.

- Ivy wasn’t one to let emotions control her. She prided herself on being logical, detached. But this dream forced her to confront the truth she’d been avoiding. She cared for you—deeply, irrevocably—and the thought of losing you was unbearable.

- She reached out, her fingers lightly tracing the curve of your cheek. Her touch was soft, almost reverent, as if she feared you might disappear if she pressed too hard. “You’ve rooted yourself in my life, haven’t you?” she whispered.

- For hours, she stayed by your side, watching you sleep, her mind racing with plans to ensure your safety. She’d protect you, no matter the cost. “No one will harm you,” she vowed quietly. “Not while I still breathe.”

- The next day, her demeanor was gentler than usual. She handed you a cup of tea, her green eyes soft as they met yours. “Drink this,” she said. “It’ll keep you healthy. And stay close to me today, alright?” Her protective side was in full bloom.

- That night, as you lay in her arms, surrounded by the soft glow of her plants, she finally let herself be vulnerable. “You’re the one thing I can’t afford to lose,” she admitted. “I’ve spent my life fighting for the earth, but you? You’ve become my world.”

Bane

- Bane’s dreams were typically filled with battles and conquests, but this one was different. He saw you, broken and defeated, your life slipping away because he hadn’t been strong enough to protect you. The sight of your lifeless form was a blow worse than any he’d taken in the ring.

- He woke with a start, his chest heaving as if he’d run a marathon. His eyes immediately sought you out, relief washing over him when he saw you safe and sound, curled up beside him. But the dream lingered, the pain and helplessness gnawing at him.

- Bane wasn’t used to feeling weak, but that nightmare had shaken him. He sat up, his massive frame tense as he stared down at you. “You are my strength,” he murmured, the words foreign on his tongue but no less true.

- For hours, he sat there, replaying the nightmare in his mind. He realized then just how much you meant to him, how deeply you’d carved yourself into his life. “I cannot lose you,” he vowed, his voice low and resolute.

- The next morning, his protective instincts were in overdrive. He insisted on accompanying you everywhere, his large hand resting possessively on your shoulder. When you questioned his sudden behavior, he simply replied, “You are important to me. That is reason enough.”

- That night, as you lay in his arms, he finally let his walls down. “I have fought many battles,” he said quietly. “But the thought of losing you? That is a battle I cannot win.” His voice was thick with emotion, his vulnerability laid bare for you to see.

- Bane’s love was fierce and unwavering, and from that moment on, he made it his mission to keep you safe. “You are my heart,” he admitted softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “And I will protect you with every ounce of strength I possess.”

Jonathan Crane aka. Scarecrow

- Jonathan’s dreams were often macabre reflections of his own fears twisted into nightmarish landscapes. But this time, it wasn’t about him. The nightmare was about you—your lifeless body crumpled in a dark alley, surrounded by shadows, your voice calling his name in desperation before falling silent forever.

- He woke abruptly, his breath shallow and ragged, the echo of your scream still ringing in his ears. For a moment, he sat frozen, his hands trembling slightly. Then his eyes darted to the bed, where you lay peacefully, your chest rising and falling in soft rhythm.

- Jonathan wasn’t one to embrace vulnerability, yet this dream left him shaken. He stared at you, his mind racing with an uncomfortable realization: he cared for you far more than he’d ever allowed himself to admit. Losing you, even in a nightmare, felt like losing a part of himself.

- He leaned closer, his hand hovering over your cheek but not quite touching, as if afraid to disturb the calm you radiated. “You’re more dangerous than fear itself,” he murmured quietly, his voice tinged with a rare warmth. “Because you’ve made me weak.”

- The following day, Jonathan was quieter than usual, his sharp words softened when directed at you. He lingered in your presence, finding excuses to stay close, though he masked his concern with his usual intellectual aloofness.

- That night, as you stirred beside him, Jonathan finally let his guard down. “You don’t realize it, do you?” he whispered, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “You’ve made me care… and that terrifies me.” His fingers brushed against yours, a silent vow to keep you safe.

- From that moment on, he became even more meticulous in his plans, ensuring no one could ever harm you. Jonathan Crane, the master of fear, had found something he feared more than anything: a world without you in it.

Harvey Dent aka. Two-Face

- Harvey’s nightmares were like a coin flip—sometimes they reflected his inner turmoil, other times they felt like cruel twists of fate. This time, it was the latter. He saw you, the one person who made him feel whole, bleeding out in his arms as he screamed for help that never came.

- He jolted awake, his hands clutching the sheets tightly as he gasped for air. His scarred side twitched involuntarily, but his eyes sought you immediately. Relief washed over him as he saw you sleeping soundly beside him, completely unaware of his inner torment.

- Harvey sat up, running a hand down his face. The nightmare had been too vivid, too real. He couldn’t shake the image of your lifeless body, the way your eyes had stared at him, full of trust even as the light faded from them.

- “You’re my anchor,” he whispered, his dual voice cracking slightly. “You make me believe there’s still something good in me.” The thought of losing you wasn’t just painful; it felt like losing the last shred of humanity he had left.

- The next day, Harvey was unusually protective, his coin flipping idly between his fingers as he shadowed your every move. When you teased him about being overly cautious, he brushed it off with a half-smile. “Can’t be too careful,” he muttered, though his eyes betrayed his deeper worry.

- That night, as you curled up beside him, Harvey wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “You’re the one thing in my life that doesn’t need a coin flip,” he admitted softly. “I’ll protect you, no matter what.”

- From then on, his duality softened slightly when it came to you. Both sides of Harvey Dent—man and monster—agreed on one thing: you were worth everything. And he wouldn’t let anyone take you from him.

Edward Nygma aka. The Riddler

- Edward’s nightmares weren’t random; they were puzzles of his subconscious, riddled with hidden meanings and twisted scenarios. But this time, the riddle was cruelly simple: you were dead, taken from him in a moment of chaos he couldn’t control or predict. The answer to the nightmare was devastatingly clear—he couldn’t solve it.

- He woke in a cold sweat, his mind racing as if trying to piece together clues to prove the dream wasn’t real. When his eyes landed on you, still peacefully asleep beside him, he let out a shaky breath, relief flooding his system.

- For once, Edward was at a loss for words. The nightmare had shaken him in a way few things could. He prided himself on his intellect, his ability to plan for every contingency, yet the thought of losing you felt like an unsolvable equation.

- “You’ve become my greatest mystery,” he murmured, brushing a hand through his hair as he watched you sleep. “How did you manage to make me feel this way?” His voice was tinged with frustration, but beneath it was an undeniable warmth.

- The next day, Edward was more attentive than usual, his riddles and taunts aimed at others rather than you. He stuck close, his sharp eyes scanning for any potential threat, though he masked his concern behind his usual arrogance.

- That night, as you curled up against him, Edward allowed himself a moment of vulnerability. “You’re the only thing in my life that doesn’t need a riddle to explain,” he admitted softly, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. “And I’ll make sure no one ever takes you from me.”

- From that point on, Edward’s plans always included you at the center, his mind working tirelessly to ensure your safety. For a man obsessed with answers, you had become the only certainty in his life.

Oswald Cobblepot aka. The Penguin

- Oswald’s nightmares were usually filled with power struggles and betrayal, but this one was personal. He saw you, his constant companion and solace, gunned down in a rival’s crossfire. The sight of your blood pooling beneath you was enough to send a chill through even his cold heart.

- He woke with a start, his usual composure shattered as he sat up, his breath heavy. His sharp eyes immediately sought you out, relief flooding him as he saw you beside him, alive and unharmed. But the nightmare had left its mark.

- Oswald prided himself on his control, yet the dream had revealed a vulnerability he couldn’t ignore. He sat in silence, his mind replaying the nightmare over and over, each iteration driving home just how much you meant to him.

- “You’re more valuable than all the riches in Gotham,” he muttered, his voice low and gruff. He reached out, his gloved hand brushing against yours, the gesture unusually tender for a man like him.

- The following day, Oswald’s protective instincts were in overdrive. He doubled your security, barking orders at his henchmen to ensure your safety. When you questioned his sudden behavior, he simply replied, “You’re too important to risk.”

- That night, as you rested your head on his shoulder, Oswald finally let his walls down. “You’ve done the impossible,” he admitted quietly. “You’ve made the Penguin care about something other than power. And I won’t let anyone take that away from me.”

- From then on, his love for you was evident in every action. For a man who thrived in Gotham’s cold, dark underworld, you were his one source of light—and he’d do whatever it took to keep you safe.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Your relationship trope

Joker: 

Enemies/Lovers on sight.

God X Follower

Gremlin X Sunshine.

Rowdy delinquent X Sweet dork.

Harley Quinn: 

Chaotic badass X Sweet badass.

Quiet listener X Lord always talking.

Aggressively supportive.

Ultimate mom friend X Feral gremlin.

Catwoman: 

Each other's impulse control.

Loves talking X Loves listening

Crazy moron X Intelligent moronsexual.

Parents without kids.

Riddler: 

Tall angry bastard X Short actual sunshine.

Partner in crimes that are polar opposites.

Dumbass X That's my dumbass.

Dense X Dense.

Penguin: 

Angry and protective X Soft and concerned.

Asshole X Tired of it

Please stop X Too much energy.

Chaotic with a soft spot X Normal but Chaos enabler.

Scarecrow: 

Sweet baby X Litteral demon.

Overthinker X Touchy drama queen.

Grumpy X Sunshine.

They probably hate me X In love just terrible at showing it.

Deathstroke: 

Stoic and serious X Chill.

Feral dumbass X Voice of reason.

Ray of sunshine X Touch them and die.

Evil X Reason they haven't destroyed the world yet.

Bane: 

Low maintenance X High energy.

Big evil bastard X Smitten idiot.

Tall X Small.

Pessimist X Optimist.

Mr. Freeze: 

Morticia and Gomez.

Pure-heated bean X Cynical goblin.

Super hyper and loud X Loves them anyway.

Has a crush X Doesn't notice.

Two-Face: 

Edgy baby X Soft bastard.

Idiot X Loves their Idiots.

Flirty X Flustered.

Quiet X Bubbly.

Poison Ivy: 

Mutual pining idiots.

Confident flirt X Expert at not taking the hint.

Sun X Moon.

Cinnabun X Hot-head.

Killer Croc: 

Monster X Monster fucker

Cinnamon roll X Guard dog.

Hand warm X Hand cold.

Cluess as fuck X Bad at expressing emotions.

[dreamlandcreations]

Listen! Bane Heist Crew AU! Bane is the serious and scary leader. Reader is a hacker they reluctantly (on Basard's urging) took into the crew. Bruce Wayne is the Detective that's trying to bust their crew (he already knows it's them, he just needs to catch them in the act / find proof). So he keeps showing up wherever they are and even has the audacity to flirt with the reader. Bane of course is "only" pissed off because it puts the crew at risk. And absolutely not because he's feeling protective & jealous. Cue side eye from Basard. 😂

[ninja-potato-shelby-solomons]

When she's a whore but she's also your sweet pretty babygirl who belongs to you and only you.