#selina kyle's daughter

[ebodebo]

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—you meet jason at one of bruce’s charity galas and you fuck

—jason todd x f!reader

—2.7k+

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"Honey, cross your legs."

"Honey, sit up straighter."

"Honey, we're at a gala, not a summer blowout in the Maldives."

These were just a few of the many phrases your mother chirped at you since you arrived at this stupid gala. You didn't even want to go, but your mother preached something about how, "we needed to be a united front since your father was going for reelection as a New York senator" or something like that.

It was stupid. Nobody gives a shit about familial ties; they care about your values, goals, and accolades. But there's no arguing with your mother; she's as stubborn as they come.

So, you'd sit pretty, legs crossed, with a pristine posture, biting your tongue when she says you could be sitting straighter or you could smile more. Granted, it was only a couple of hours, and if it kept your mother from turning the world around you into hell personified, you'd gladly plaster a rictus smile to appease her.

"Oh, there's Bruce!" Your mother quietly says between you and your father. "Let's go say hello," she says, gripping your hand and pulling you out of your chair, gesturing for your father to follow along.

Somewhere along the way, your parents move in front of you, sequestering you behind them. So once you all reach Bruce, he only takes notice of them, issuing a polite welcome and thanks for their attendance. Your mother swivels her head to see you tucked away behind her, bringing her hand out, gesturing for you to come in front.

"Hello, Mr. Wayne," you politely say, sticking your hand out, before introducing yourself. He grasps your hand with only a slight hesitation.

"Pardon my shock. I just haven't seen you since you were two," he confesses. You smile, pulling your hand back before your mother steps next to you and places her hand on your shoulder.

"She's grown quite a lot since then, Bruce. Still a little air-heady, but I'm hopeful the more she ages, the more my personality will rub off on her," she laughs, carefully wiping a piece of loose hair away from your face. You should feel offended, but the way her joke landed so poorly, making Bruce lightly cough the awkwardness away, made you feel pity.

"You know Selina," he says, filling in the silence, gently placing his hand on her waist as she delicately sticks her hand out for your father to shake.

Who wouldn't know Selina Kyle? She was drop-dead gorgeous but as sharp as they came. She was dressed to the nines in a designer black floor-length dress. It must have been Celine or Givenchy, so it was definitely over five thousand dollars, which is just pocket change to a guy like Bruce Wayne.

"Pleasure," she coos, pulling her hand away. Her gaze shifts to your mother, slightly narrowing her eyes. It seems your mother is oblivious to Selina's adversary towards her because she eagerly sticks her hand out, ready for Selina to shake.

"Selina. So good to see you." But, instead of shaking your mother's hand, she crossed her arms over her chest

"Mhm. I wish I could say the same," Selina sharply replied before Bruce put his hand on her shoulder in warning. You gave Selina a small smile, smothering it with your hand. She covered her own with her champagne glass as she took a sip.

"She's joking," Bruce amends, signaling for a waiter going around with glasses of alcohol. "Champagne?" He asks, reaching for two glasses from the waiter before handing them to your parents.

Before any more conversation can occur, a man calls for Bruce. "Bruce," The man says, "When do you want to start?" The man questions. Bruce picks up his arm, turning his wrist to check his watch.

"He said he'd be here by now," Bruce sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingers. His eyes were scanning around in search of something—rather someone. He does, however, spot Alfred, who he calls over and asks if he'd seen a guy named Jason.

"It was humorous of you to assume Master Todd would abide by your schedule, Master Wayne," Alfred remarks, his face stone-cold. Bruce checks the time on his watch again, then scans the crowd again.

"Just start the silent auction. I suppose Jason will come when he comes," Bruce suspires, clearly agitated. "See you at the auction," he chimes to you and your parents as he sticks his arm out for Selina to take.

"See you," your mother cheerfully says, though you know the cheeriness is just a facade because once Bruce and Selina walk away, your mother instantly drops the smile.

"Can you believe that woman? She was a criminal for God's-sake. She should be thankful that people like us even mingle with her." Your mother scoffs at your father. He hums along, paying relatively no mind to what she is saying.

While she goes on a tangent about how Selina is just using Bruce to get to his billions, you notice a dark figure heading toward the fire escape that you assume leads to the roof. You don't know why, but your brain is fluttering with the idea that you must follow it. So, you do just that.

"I have to use the bathroom," you interrupt, gently touching your mother's hand. You turn your head away from her, not bothering to turn back when she calls your name.

You walk around a corner to see the fire escape latch slightly ajar. Reaching out, you grasp the lever and push it out, quickly feeling the chilly Gotham air touch your cheeks.

Once your foot touches the stone with a 'clack' from your heels, you see the dark figure lying down, smoke clouding around him. He glances at you, taking a drag of his cigarette and huffing out a string of smoke.

"Didn't think pretty girls would come up here." This mystery guy's voice is deep, and judging by his figure, you can tell he's lanky.

"You know the latch and all."

"Are you calling me incompetent?" You cock a brow, hand on your hip with your purse in hand.

"No, I'm callin' you pretty," he says casually, taking another drag of his cigarette, not sparing you another glance. You hate to admit it, but this guy is pretty smooth, but you wouldn't tell him that.

"Who are you?" You ask, taking a few steps toward him and only turning your head to look at the night sky, which is aglow with billions of little stars. You see all the high-rise buildings, light illuminating the dark streets. It's a shame Gotham is so corrupt and unlawful.

"I should be askin' you that, seeing as you’re on my roof," he tentatively says. You can just feel the smugness in his tone, making you roll your eyes.

"You're a Wayne?" You question, arms crossed, slowly stepping closer to him.

"Somethin' like that I guess," he shrugs, which makes you let out a light laugh.

"You guess? You don't know your own family lineage?" You joke, moving to sit not completely next to him but close enough that you could feel the smoke in your nose. You could also see the outline of his face—strong jaw, pretty eyes, fluttery lashes, and nice lips.

"Why are you so curious?" He glances at you with a sly smirk on his lips. You look at him, then at the cigarette in between his fingers.

"You know smoking kills," you inform, pointing towards the cigarette. He lays his head back on the roof, his lips curving into a smirk before retaking another drag.

"You know what else kills? Poking your head around where you don't belong," he puffs out the smoke as he speaks. You turn your head away from him, trying to conceal your smile. This guy is something else, you think.

"Jason," he adds.

Your eyes widen, and your lips quirk. "Ah, you're Jason." You drag out the 'you're,' getting Jason to turn his head towards you. An inquisitive look is plastered on his face.

"So you've heard of me?" He cockily says.

"I know enough about you to know you're flakey," you raise a brow. He lets out a soft laugh.

"Mr. Wayne was looking for you, and so was everyone else," you clarify.

"Oh, please don't tell on me," he fake pleads, clearly being sarcastic. "Especially to Mr. Wayne."

You roll your eyes, though your lips threaten to smile. "I'm sensing some sarcasm."

"Well, aren't you just a modern-day Poirot.”

You widen your eyes, raising your hands. "Wait, wait. You read classic literature?" You gawk, hand coming to your chest.

"I dabble," he shrugs nonchalantly. You eye him, lip quirking.

"Well, aren't you just full of surprises?" You say, holding your two fingers out, gesturing to his cigarette. "Let me take a puff," you insist.

"Ah, ah," he tuts. "What happened to 'smoking kills?'" He raises a brow, taking a puff of the cigarette himself.

"Sue me, but I'm curious," you shrug. He eyes you, wondering if you're joking. He gives you his cigarette anyway. You take a long drag, feeling the smoke cloud your lungs.

"Easy, easy," Jason warns. "Don't take too much, or you'll—" Before he can finish, you start violently coughing, feeling your eyes well up with tears. "Cough," he finishes, taking the cigarette from your hand as you go to cover your mouth.

"You like this shit?" You say through harsh coughs.

"You get used to it," he answers, not paying attention to the question. He's more concerned about you. "You okay?" His tone isn't condescending—it carries empathy.

"Ya, ya. Took too much," you shyly smile, hiccuping a little, turning your head to look directly at him. He laughs lowly. His laugh is deep and gravelly but still sounds kind. You gulp. God, were you getting turned on by a laugh?

You were facing him head-on, and even in the shitty lighting, you could see the way his Adam's apple bobbed up and down and the way his jaw clenched. Your eyes slowly drift down his face, falling on his lips. He had stuck his tongue on his lips to wet them, giving them a glistening sheen.

"Are you thinkin' about me?" His voice is dry. You sharply move your eyes to bore into his, sticking your tongue out to wet the seam of your own lips.

"And what if I am?" You challenge. Suddenly, you can feel your own heartbeat, and your hands are clammy. You can see the gears in his brain working, trying to figure you out.

"Well, are you?" He asks roughly, putting his cigarette out on the roof. You search his eyes, gently biting your lip. His eyes follow you the whole time.

"Guess," you quipped. You hadn't realized you had scooted closer to him, close enough to where he could if he wanted to touch you. This little banter you guys had was getting you wetter by the minute. It was odd. You'd never even met this guy, but you would let him kiss you, maybe even more.

His gaze drifts from your eyes to your lips. "If I were to put my hand under your dress, what would I find?" He gruffly says. Your eyes drift back to his lips, and you bite your own as your chest rises and falls rapidly.

"What would I find?" He urges a little more assertively this time. You rapidly avert your eyes back to him, taking note of the blue hue in his eyes, which has seemingly grown darker.

"Maybe you should find out, Jason," you encourage. Once you give him the go, he's quick to move closer, crushing his lips to yours roughly. It was unlike anything you've ever felt before—like a ton of dynamite just erupted in you, leaving you feeling a buzz on your skin.

You reached up to grab the back of his neck, pushing him further on your lips. He groans as you sink one of your hands into his hair, gripping your waist in his hands and pulling you so you straddle his lap.

"Do you hook up with every girl you just meet?" You murmur into his lips, slipping your tongue between the seam of his moist lips.

"You hook up with every guy you just meet?" He imitates, in between breaths, gripping your waist tighter as you tug on the roots of his hair harder.

"Touché," you whisper, breathing labored as he presses deep kisses down your neck. He works his way down until he is kissing the top of your breast. Slowly, he brings his hands up to slip the strap of your dress down, exposing your breasts.

He kisses a straight line down the top of your breast to your sensitive nipple. His mouth is hot on your skin, especially in a place so sensitive. You moan as his mouth fully encompasses your nipple, lightly sucking, sending goosebumps down your skin.

You reach for his tie, grab it with your hand, hurriedly untie it, and throw it to the side before carefully undoing the few buttons on his jacket.

"It's a shame no one got to see your suit," you murmur as Jason returns his lips to yours, pressing feverish kisses into them before slipping his tongue into your mouth.

"Ya? Why's that?" He mumbles against your lips, as his hands fumble with his zipper trying to pull it down. You slid the jacket off of Jason's shoulder.

"Because you look fucking hot," you say, looking into his eyes, noticing the way his pupils dilate, hunger written all over his face. He quickly slips his slacks down, along with his boxers. Fumbling with the pocket of his jacket, he grabs a condom.

"Really?" You scowl, as he rips open the gold packaging with his teeth, slipping it on himself.

"What? Don't give me that look," he urges, pooling your dress up around your waist, sliding your panties to the side, as he guides the head of his cock inside your glistening cunt.

"Don't act like it didn't come in handy," he appeals as his cock slips inside you easily. You both groan at the contact, gripping each other tighter.

"Fuck, you were wet. Just slipped right in," he grits as you rock yourself against him, desperate for more friction. His hand is in your hair, pushing your face towards his to share messy, hot kisses as his other hand helps you set a pleasurable pace.

You throw your head back as he thrusts into you, eliciting a moan from you. "Fuck, Jason," you mewl as you feel his lips back on your breast, sucking and nipping with his teeth. Your hands grip tighter in his hair, hoping this will give you some kind of stability.

"Feels so good. So fuckin' good," Jason groans as he feels you clamp around him. You press your lips back to his, aching to feel the vibrations of his groans against your face. He grips the sides of your face to deepen the kiss, his teeth clashing with your own.

You continue going up and down on his cock, occasionally he thrusts himself into you to satisfy his urges and lets you grind against him to chase your own high. He takes your nipple into his mouth one last time before you moan so loud you're surprised the Gotham City Police isn't called, and Jason is spewing curses and groans as you both come.

Your bodies are both buzzing and twitching. Chests heaving so heavily you're suprised your hearts didn't just bust straight out of your chests. Jason pulls out once you aren't panting as hard, guiding you off his cock as you fix your dress. He slips the condom off, groaning at the touch, before tying it at the end. Then, he slips his jacket back on along with his slacks.

You haphazardly stand, holding onto Jason's shoulder to keep your balance. Once you gain stability, you awkwardly cough out a bye, unsure on how to make this any less weird and head back towards the fire escape. You only turn when you hear him say something. Turning on your heels, you look back at him, still in the same spot.

"I, uh, never caught your name?" He yells, his hand scratching the back of his neck.

"Didn't throw it, Jason," you shout back, making a lopsided smile grow on his face. Then, turning to go back through the fire escape, you catch a smile spread across your face as well.

Maybe being forced to attend one of Bruce Wayne's galas wasn't so bad.

a/n: jason todd = thought daughter

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[tbcanary]

Lian Harper + her various caretakers in Green Arrow Vol. 7 (2023)

Bonus:

[ladyantiheroine]

I am currently imagining Sofia Gigante and Selina Kyle doing wholesome sisterly things together. Sofia lets Selina try on all the fancy clothes in her wardrobe, doing each other's makeup, going to the club in their favorite party dresses, having movie nights and sleepovers, painting each other's nails, reliving the sisterhood/girlhood they never got to have.

[eek-a-tron]

CATWOMAN & RIDDLER ARE DATING

So much wild stuff in Catwoman: Lonely City by Cliff Chiang

[bluejys]

batman’s daughter 🐈‍⬛ ! ❝moodboards❞

synopsis ! when the bat and the cat have a daughter. she takes on the role of Feng and joins her father in protecting gotham. along side robin she joins the young justice league. a tale of a girl and a heroine wrapped in one. experiencing the good and evil.

- Sienna Wayne-Kyle aka Feng

- Lydia Isley aka Thorn/Malevolent

x wisp

© bluejys 2024

[to-the-stars8]

Bruce Wayne is the type of man who goes in to see the Barbie movie with his daughters expecting nothing more than a little fun movie about a doll. Instead, he comes out not only understanding the issues of the women in his life more in-depth but also appreciating them immensely more than he could ever imagine.

He's more than Kenough

[ceruleanvulpine]

happy friday, i broke my promise to never make an RSS feed

first things first: here is EPISODE 2 of jim gordon must die, "RIDDLER'S DAUGHTER".

secondly, we now have a neocities website containing links to all the existing episodes.

thirdly, we now have an RSS feed, so our podcast can be consumed through your podcast player of choice instead of google drive links! follow the steps for adding a custom or private feed (like you would for, e.g., a patreon feed), and add this url:

https://jimgordonmustdie.neocities.org/rssfeed.xml

no guarantees that this feed will be successfully maintained, but you know, i said I was never gonna make one, so you probably shouldn't trust me at this point

[hel-starr]

huntress with green eyes is something special to me

[autism-connoisseur]

WE ARE SO BACK

[dessarious]

Misconceptions, Miscommunication, and Misinformation Pt105

So I tried to put my tag list on this and it keeps giving me an error about too many characters in the text block (did it even before I pasted the draft in) so I'll try to figure out where the problem is before I post anything else.

Beginning   Previous  

"Mari, look at me, sweetheart." Her Papa's voice made her blink. When had he come in? She looked over to find him kneeling next to her, worry written on his face.

"I'm sorry, I was thinking, what were you saying?" Everyone around her was exchanging looks. That couldn't be good.

"Mari, you were completely nonresponsive for close to fifteen minutes. Why don't we go upstairs and talk?" That explained the looks, at least.

"It's okay, I'm fine." She couldn't really place the look on his face.

"Maybe so, but it's been a long time since we've spent any one on one time together. I thought we could talk, or even just play UMS."

"Feel like being taken down by a little girl, do you?" That got a shocked snort, before he laughed. Really laughed. It felt like it had been a long time since he'd done that.

"Only by you, sweetheart. But, I might surprise you. I've been practicing." He whispered the last part with a conspiratorial wink, and she giggled.

"You're going down, old man." He laughed again, and she realized how much she'd missed it.

"That's my girl. Let's go make sure you live up to that confidence." He picked her up, and she caught the worried frowns from everyone else before he carried her upstairs.

"I didn't mean to upset you Papa. I really was just lost in my thoughts." The smile he gave her was understanding, though a bit strained.

"I know, sweetheart. I just wish you would share more of those thoughts with us. You've always taken after me with the way you internalize everything. I want you to know that you can talk to us about anything. We understand why you had to keep certain things secret, and may still need to sometimes, but we'll listen to everything you're willing to say."

"I don't want to worry you. I've already put you both through so much." All the things that happened since she took down Hawkmoth were bad enough, but she'd been causing them problems far longer. Her Papa set her on the couch before kneeling down in front of her again.

"Mari, we're your parents. Worrying is part of our job. Being there when you need us is part of our job. Your job isn't to make us feel better or tiptoe around our feelings. Hawkmoth is gone. There's no chance of me overeating and locking you in a tower of thorns." She couldn't help but giggle at his dry tone. "We want you to be happy, and we want to help you. Not to mention, what hurts the most is feeling like you're pulling away from us." His voice cracked and tears were threatening to fall from his eyes.

"Oh, Papa. I'm so sorry." She tried to pull him into a hug, but he grabbed her hands instead.

"I'm not trying to make you feel guilty, and I know that children grow up and leave the nest. Of course, we weren't prepared for it to be this soon, but that's beside the point. We just want to support you, but we can't do that if you don't let us back in."

"I just... I didn't want to make things worse for you. All of this happened so fast and I know you haven't had a chance to process it all yet. I didn't want to make things harder for you." Her Papa just rolled his eyes.

"I'll say it again. We are the parents. Honestly, the less information we have, the more we worry. Not to mention, we know you too well to believe that everything is fine just because you're smiling. I know we haven't been as present as we should have been in the past, but we wanted to give you space. If I had any idea what you were actually going through, I would have done something."

Mari felt herself wince. She knew that both her parents would have helped, but it wasn't a chance she was willing to take after the Weredad incident. She honestly was afraid to even think about what her mother would have been like to fight.

"I thought I could handle it on my own. I didn't mean to seem so distant." He was rubbing his thumbs along her knuckles. "Do you think I should forgive everyone?"

"Define everyone." His words had a hard edge, and it took her a moment to realize he was probably thinking about Gabriel.

"Did Chloe tell you about our run in with Nino?" Her Papa nodded. She figured she had more than enough time to tell them when she was trapped in her head. "Is it fair of me to blame them for being weak-willed enough to let others make their decisions for them? Isn't that the same as blaming Hawkmoth's victims for what they did?"

"It's not the same, Mari, you know that. Hawkmoth's victims were completely taken over. Once he was in, they were no longer themselves, and they didn't remember anything after. Your classmates let themselves be led. They let someone else make decisions for them despite everything you've done for them. You don't owe anyone forgiveness. At the same time, it's not healthy for you to hold a grudge. If you want to cut them out of your life entirely, I wouldn't blame you, and we'll support whatever decision you make. Be more cautions in the future, but don't let what happened fester inside you and turn you into a different person."

That made sense. It wasn't about forgiving, or even forgetting. It was about learning from the past, but not letting it determine your future. She should be able to do that. Right? She finally managed to lean in and hug him.

"Thank you Papa. I promise I'll be more open."

"We love you sweetie, and we'll be here for you, no matter what happens." They stayed that way for a few minutes before he pulled back. "Now, are you ready to take on your old man?"

————————————-

"I warned you." Mari's voice was smug as she looked at her father's confused expression.

"I know you haven't had time to practice. How are you beating me this easily?"

"Ladybug reflexes." The dry look he sent her said that was bullshit, but she just shrugged.

"In that case, I need to teach Chloe how to play and see if she can beat you." Mari giggled.

"You just want to teach her so you can win again." He rolled his eyes but she could see the smile trying to form. "You should offer, though. Chloe's parents never really taught her anything. I think she'd like having you or Maman teach her something, even something small. But maybe you could suggest teaching her how to cook or bake. I think she'd be happy you trust her enough to offer." Her father started muttering, but the only words she caught were mayor and catacombs. Probably for the best.

"You think she'd enjoy cooking?" He sounded a bit skeptical, and she could understand why.

"I think she'd enjoy learning to be more self sufficient. But once she has the basics down, I think she'd actually like cooking itself. It's a part of life that's fairly easy to control. What?" She wasn't certain what to make of her Papa's frown.

"We need to find a way to get you both into therapy, and keep Chloe away from her parents as much as possible." Well, she could agree to the second.

"Papa, you know that therapy isn't a good idea. What's the point if we constantly have to lie or tell half-truths? But I think Selina plans on running interference with Chloe's parents. She really doesn't like them."

"Well, I'm glad someone's on her side that actually has the power behind them to do something." He muttered for another minute. "But there has to be something we can do about therapy. You both need it, and I'm not just going to ignore that. There has to be a way. Have you talked to the Kwami about some sort of magic that would make it so the person couldn't talk about what you told them?" It was her turn to frown at him.

"I don't like the idea of taking away someone's freewill, even if it's just a little bit. It's not something I want to get comfortable doing." Tikki popped up in front of her.

"What about a memory spell? If they go to talk to someone about anything you and Chloe have told them, they'll lose all memory of talking to either of you." That was better... sort of.

"That might work, but how do we find someone that can deal with both sides of things? I mean, it's not like anyone specializes in secret identities."

"Technically, the Justice League does have someone for that, but I doubt they'd agree to take you on as a patient, given the current climate there. I know someone who could do it though, if you'd be okay talking with a former rogue." Mari jumped. When had Selina and the others made it upstairs?

"You mean Quinn?" Damian sounded skeptical, at best.

"I do. Even you have to admit that she and Ivy have gotten better. The only time they did anything big in the past two years was that factory that was completely destroying the habitat for some endangered plants, and Ivy did try to go through proper channels first. She only escalated when it was obvious people were being paid off to look the other way." Damian grumbled at her, but otherwise didn't disagree.

"Quinn? As in Harleen Quinzel?" She'd studied other heroes and their villains extensively in the beginning, trying to find someone she could ask for help. Fu had nixed the idea as soon as she told him, but she'd gotten a lot of information. Damian nodded at her. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. She's made a lot of progress and I don't want to be responsible for making her regress."

"Well, you see, that's the thing. If she and Ivy were to come here, we could keep an eye on them. Not to mention it would take them out of that toxic environment. So really, you'd actually be helping them heal as well." Mari wasn't certain what to make of the look Damian gave Selina when she finished. It did make sense though.

"Are they even allowed to leave the US? Or be in France for that matter?" Damian didn't sound like he was protesting, just confused more than anything else.

"Neither one of them has any active warrants out, and surprisingly enough, they've never been charged with anything in France either." That got looks from just about everyone.

"Can they be trusted?" Mari looked to Damian for the answer.

"You can always do a failsafe so they can't talk to other people about you, or wipe their memory if they try. But I know they are in possession of information that could be disastrous if it were to get out and have kept their word to keep it to themselves."

"I suppose we could try."

"Great! They'll be flying over with Barbara." Damian raised an eyebrow at Selina.

"My father agreed to this?"

"Not yet, but he will."

"Is this one of those 'better to ask forgiveness than permission' things?"

"No, this is more of a 'get him to think it was his idea' thing. Don't worry, I've got this." Mari was certain Selina's confidence was well founded, despite Damian's dubious look. She just wasn't certain how to feel about therapy now that it wasn't an impossibility. When she looked at Chloe though, her partner just looked relieved. She'd quit her other therapy when she found out Mari was Ladybug, for fear she might say the wrong thing. Given everything that happened since, especially with her parents, Mari was glad she'd get that outlet again.

Beginning   Previous  

[enobariasteeth]

okay but nothing the DC writers have to say about Selina Kyle and Talia Al Ghul is canon. Only the things I make up in my head are canon.

[astorianyxkings]

Thinking about the Bats' reactions are sending me.

Jason would be so pissed off too. Like yeah he's currently strangling one of the captors but he's also like, "Loosing your touch, huh old man?". And he's complaining about how he's missing a good episode of Chopped for this.

Dick is honestly trying not to laugh, he's the eldest and the Oldest Daughter Syndrome™ is kicking in and he has to force himself not to comment on how Batman should be able to get out of here. Oracle is threatening him to stay quiet through comms.

Tim is pissed off because he was actually relaxing by watching a movie instead of solving a case, Steph is pissed because she drugged Tim's tea and he was supposed to pass out and sleep for the first time in 3 days.

Cass and Duke are actually untying their dad. Damian is chiding him for getting caught and making him drag Batcow into all of this.

Kate and Luke are an exasperated aunt and uncle duo and currently don't know how to fix this. Take the gun away from Alfred? Tell Superman to calm down? Call an ambulance?

Thank the gods no one told Harley her med school bestie was here.

Selina is hyping Clark up. "Yes, tell them off for taking our boyfriend!" Clark's in the middle of a lecture so he doesn't really process what she said.

Harper and Helena are rolling their eyes. They thought that this was serious. Like the people were going to unmask the giant furry serious. Instead they kidnapped him just to keep him busy while they try and smuggle cargo at the docs.

Thank the gods Damian didn't have time to call his Mother because Talia would not find this funny. Jason is seriously debating on telling her just so Bruce could get chewed out by her.

Alfred was truthfully about to loose his shit. And Gotham ain't ready for that.

If Clark is kidnapped, he knows without having to ask that Bruce is going to hunt him down with the help of the entire Justice League. They’ll find him! He’ll be fine!

If Bruce is kidnapped, he’ll just sit there — maybe getting lightly tortured — and dread the arrival of all 17 of his kids, one angry Kryptonian without his emotional support human, Alfred having a RED moment, the Batcow, and all of the active JL members who don’t hate him right now (Hal Jordan will probably still come with, but he will complain the entire time)

[ladyantiheroine]

Daughters of Falcone

a revenge fantasy

Summary: After Sofia Gigante catches Selina Kyle trying to steal her box of diamonds, the two daughters of Carmine Falcone finally cross paths. Despite having lived two very different lives, the two unexpected sisters share one thing in common: A deep desire for vengeance. Together, they plot to bring the king of Gotham's underworld down to his knees.

Content Warnings: Violence, torture, electrocution, choking/suffocation, blood, bodily harm, murder, guns, toxic family relationships, death of loved ones.

Word Count: 7.3k

Author's Note: Set after The Batman and before The Penguin. Falcone is still alive after surviving the Riddler's gunshot wound. You can also read this on my AO3.

Chapter 1: You Shouldn’t Be Here

If Selina had known Carmine’s vault was this easy to crack, she would have tried stealing from him a long time ago. But for the longest time, all she cared about was putting a bullet in the man’s head, and whatever shiny things he kept at home were far from her mind. But Selina was back in Gotham now, the streets were still flooded, and she needed cash.

And if there was anyone in the world who owed her, it was that fucker Falcone.

The Falcone home was dark and cavernous as night, and just as cold. The only light Selina had to see the safe was the amber streetlight that beamed from the window. She turned the knob slowly, wincing at every mechanical click that broke the gnawing silence of the house.

Finally, one click and the safe door creaked open. It had been a while since Selina broke a proper lock, and the last time she did, she ended up in a scuffle with a certain man in a mask.

Don’t think about him, her mind whispered.

In the dim light, Selina caught a black leather case of small pockets, and each one was a tiny, white glimmer. Diamonds. A whole bunch of them. Small, like the ones that may line a necklace or a golden ring. It was hard to say what the diamonds meant to Carmine Falcone. A gift for his late wife? An heirloom from his (and to an extent, her) predecessors? 

None of these questions mattered to a thief. To a thief’s eyes, diamonds were just money that hadn’t been transferred to paper yet. And these were enough to float Selina to her next step, wherever that was.

Selina reached her leather-glove hands inside, when a cold voice crawled up behind her.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

It was like ice water poured down Selina’s back. For a brief moment, her heart ricocheted in her chest, until she realized the voice was too feminine to be his. The thief lifted both her hands and turned to face the voice.

In the pale light, she looked like a ghost, but it didn’t take too long for Selina to recognize her face. The face that had been plastered on newspapers, on televisions screens, under the ominous name “HANGMAN.” Sofia Falcone stepped up to her in the dark, draped in a long white sleeping gown, a small pistol in her hand.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware who’s house you’re stealing from,” Sofia said. She walked closer, her silk slippers peeking from under her skirt. “But I think you’ve picked the wrong place.”

Selina stood still and straight. It wasn’t the first time she found herself on the other side of a gun. But she also knew Sofia was a former Arkham inmate, and if she wasn’t unstable going in, there was a good chance was unstable once she got out.

“I know exactly who’s place this is,” Selina said. “This is Carmine Falcone’s house. Was Carmine Falcone’s house.” She said her neck words gently. “And you’re his daughter.”

Sofia gave her a tight lip smile.

“So you’ve read the papers,” she said. “So you should be informed enough to know what happens when you try to steal from me.”

Selina heard a clicking sound in the dark. Even as she was frozen, her mind scrambling for a way out, she kept eyeing Sofia. It stunned her a little to see her in person. They were both daughters of Falcone, and only one of them knew it.

Selina came here for diamonds to pawn. She didn’t return to Gotham expecting a family reunion.

“If it’s any consolation,” Selina said. “I wasn’t trying to steal from you specifically, Miss Falcone—”

“Gigante,” Sofia snapped. Her tone split the air and made Selina flinch. “My name is Sofia Gigante. Don’t call me Falcone.”

The pistol was shaking just a little in her hand. Careful, Selina told herself. This is the Hangman you’re dealing with. You never know what might set her off.

But then again, Selina knew who Carmine Falcone was. If she had to grow up in a house with that man, she just might change her name too. Selina moved her gaze from the pistol to Sofia’s eyes.

“Miss Gigante,” she said. “I was trying to steal from Carmine, not you.”

“Well, this is my place, not his,” Sofia said. “He’s got a different house closer to the city.”

“I see,” Selina said. She curled her words around before she spoke. “Last time I checked, he said he had a place at this address. If I had known he moved, I wouldn’t have come and bothered you.”

Sofia narrowed her eyes at Selina. She took a few steps closer, the pistol never wavering from her aim.

“How does someone like you know where my father—Carmine could live? Do you work for him?”

Selina ran her tongue along her bottom lip.

“I used to,” she said.

“If you worked for him, I would’ve known you,” Sofia said. She aimed the pistol at Selina’s head, and for a moment Selina’s heart lurched as she imagined her brain popping all over the wall behind her. “Take off the mask.”

Selina was stiff for a moment. If Sofia saw her face, she was done for. But it’s not like she had much defense against a bullet. So she lifted a hand to the top of her head, and pulled the black mask off.

Sofia looked at her for a long moment. Her eyes examined Selina’s face, her eyes, her short hair.

“I’ve never seen you before,” she said. “I know everyone who works for Carmine, I’ve never seen your face in my entire life.”

“I wasn’t anyone important to him,” Selina said. “I didn’t work on the business side. I was…an underling of an underling.”

Sofia was still giving her a look like she was considering popping her head off and heading back to bed. So, Selina kept talking.

“I overheard him mention it to a bunch of his associates over drinks,” she said. “Two guys named Johnny and…Milos, I think? Carmine was drinking whiskey with Johnny, but Milos insisted on having a Sex on the Beach, and the other two were making fun of him for having a ‘girly’ drink.”

Sofia’s teeth clenched, and her armed hand started shaking a little again.

“Were you eavesdropping on them?” she asked. “Are you  a spy? Do you work for the Maronis or something?”

“No, I was the one serving the drinks,” Selina said. “For guys who have to stay discreet, they talk awfully loud once they’ve had a few." She leaned forward a little. “Don’t tell them, but I spat in all their glasses before I handed them over.”

Sofia didn’t say anything. She kept looking at Selina, eyeing her up and down, like she was a puzzle she couldn’t crack. For the first time, the impenetrable Sofia Gigante seemed to falter in her steely resolve. Selina stepped closer, dropping her hands to her side.

“My name is Selina Kyle,” she said. “I knew your dad pretty well.

Sofia’s jaw tightened. So did her knuckles on the pistol.

“You’re full of shit.”

“It’s true.”

“It’s not, and you better fuck off before I do something you’ll regret.

The woman, Selina, looked at her for a long moment. Sofia’s body was tense, ready for a struggle, like the kind she got into with the ladies back at Arkham. But then, Selina took a step back, then reached for the neckline of her shirt. With both hands, she pulled the fabric down to reveal her neck. Immediately, Sofia’s breath fled her lungs.

It was subtle, but even in the buzzy light of the diner one could  make it out. A ring of old bruises and scars from fingernails around Selina’s neck. It wasn’t the burn of a rope, nor were the nails scratched sharp enough to match Selina’s claw-like talons. These were from much larger, much stronger hands, with the intent to squeeze out life. And Sofia knew exactly whose hands those were.

She felt light-headed all of sudden, like all the weight had fled her body. She pressed a hand to a table counter to steady herself.

“I gotta be dreaming,” she said. “This can’t be real.”

Selina took the opportunity to step over and take the gun from Sofia. She resisted, but she let Selina set it aside on the other end of the table.

“I can explain everything to you, if you want,” Selina said. Her eyes darted around the darkened walls of the house. “Maybe somewhere other than here?”

She glanced back over at the safe hanging open, the tin diamond glimmering inside. This was her chance to bolt for it. Grab the gun, grab the diamonds, take off before the Hangman could hang her. But something about this was just…too damn enticing. And if there was one thing about Selina Kyle, she wasn’t good at resisting what enticed her.

Sofia seemed to pick up a similar thought.

“How do I know you’re not just gonna take off the second we’re out the door?”

Good question. Selina wasn’t the best at trust either. She turned and walked slowly back to the safe. The metal door creaked as she shut it, leaving the diamonds inside while she clicked the lock back into place. Then, she walked back to the table, picked up the pistol, then placed it in Sofia’s hand.

“Can you trust me until we find somewhere with coffee?” Selina asked.

Chapter 2: Coffee and Cigarettes

Mooney’s was the only cafe in Gotham that was open after midnight. Around one in the morning, the only people there were the waitress wiping the counter and a couple nibbling at croissants in the corner. The cafe’s customer attendance had been especially sparse after the police found the Riddler sipping a latte in one of its red-cushioned seats. For most people, it gave the place an uneasy atmosphere, like a haunted house or a former crime scene. Except for dedicated regulars and the occasional Riddler superfan who wanted to ask which pumpkin pie he ordered before the police slammed his head against the counter. The knowledge that one of your patrons flooded the city wasn’t exactly good for business.

Selina and Sofia found a small, sequestered booth. Sofia ordered a full plate of eggs and bacon. Selina stuck with one mug of black coffee. For the first few minutes, the two of them sat in silence while they ate and drank.

Of all the things Selina could have expected from Sofia, her eating habits was not something she considered. Sofia Falcone ate like a woman who had just returned from nearly starving on some deserted island. She pinched her food between her fingers before plopping it in her mouth. Her fork scooped up scrambled eggs quickly and she gulped down coffee between each bite. Like she was in a hurry. Like she might die before she can finish.

Selina, on the other hand, chewed her eggs and bacon slowly. She sipped her coffee, and over the white ceramic rim, she examined Sofia Falcone. She tried to find traces of her father—their father—that they both shared. Maybe it was the shape of their faces, the shape of their figures, maybe just the shade of dark that made up their eyes. Selina looked for the similarities and differences, parsing away the pieces of Isabella Falcone and Maria Kyle, until only one terrible, cruel man stood between the two daughters.

Sofia finished her food quickly, licking each of her fingertips and wiping them clean with her napkin.

“I can cover this,” she said. “I’m not making you pay for my breakfast.”

Yeah, it would be rude for the woman with the diamond earrings and Chanel-scented cashmere to make the woman in the thrifted jacket and boots pay. While it took time for Selina to find traces of Carmine that she and Sofia shared, their differences couldn’t be more obvious. The woman across from her dripping in the kind of fabric, jewels and pampered body that only Falcone money could buy. Meanwhile, Selina sat in her leather suit and boots, dripping with rainwater on the outside and sweat on the inside, her body ragged from years of dirty apartments and dirty hands of dirty men.

A small part of her was angry. One man produces two girls, one raised in a house of diamonds and the other on the streets of a corrupt city. It’s like there had been some cosmic coin flip between two baby girls, and one of them got the wrong side.

But then Selina recalled the story of Sofia’s sentence to Arkham. It was all over the newspapers and televisions when it happened. The beautiful but mad daughter of Carmine Falcone, sentenced away. Selina had heard all kinds of stories about Arkham Asylum. She once heard an ex-inmate say that he had a choice between an eternity in Hell or another year in Arkham, he would’ve shot himself just to get to Hell faster.

Maybe life in the castle could be hellish too.

“So,” Sofia said, snapping Selina from her thoughts. “Your mother knew my father. How so?”

Selina pursed her lips. She’d spent a while trying to think of ways to approach this, and even to the moment she struggled to find the words. So, she decided to start as far back in the beginning as she could.

“My mother was Maria Kyle,” she said. “She worked at the 44 Below.”

Immediately, a light crossed Sofia’s eyes.

“Really?” she said. “At the Iceberg Lounge? Oz Cobb’s old place”

Selina pursed her lips and nodded. Sofia leaned slowly back into her chair, her eyes forward but refusing to meet Selina’s.

“Fuck…” Sofia said. “One of the girls of the club…I mean…Men of the family are known to sleep with sister-in-laws, housekeepers, not…”

She seemed surprised. Selina crossed her arms and leaned forward on the table.

“You never thought your dad might have been getting with any of the 44 Below girls?” she asked. “Especially after your mom died? You never thought he had a few extra secrets that he never told you?”

Sofia’s eyes were in her coffee mug. Some dark, sorrowful look fell across her face. Selina felt compelled to comfort her, somehow. Reach across the table and clasp her hand. But Sofia looked like she had turned to glass, that any touch could crack her.

After a minute, Sofia’s eyes flicked back up to Selina.

“You know,” she said. “When I was a little kid, especially after Ma died…I kept pestering my dad, telling him I wanted a sister. He told me that my brother and I were trouble enough.” She grinned and sniffled a little. “I guess he changed his mind on that.”

Selina offered a small smile in turn. Sofia sniffled again and rubbed the corner of her eyes.

“I have a sister,” she said. “God help me, I have a sister.”

The two sat quietly for several minutes. Sofia reached into the pocket of her white fur coat and pulled out a boz of Marlboros and a lighter.

“Do you mind?” she asked.

Selina nodded.

“You want one?”

Selina shook her head. She watched Sofia take a cigarette between her teeth and bring the little flame to her mouth. The waitress didn’t seem to mind. It seemed like if you came to Mooney’s at this hour, you were someone in need of a smoke. Sofia took a long, long drag and let the ghostly wisps leave her lips.

“And your mother,” she said softly. “Where is she now?” Selina knew she was going to answer that question, but that didn’t stop the cold spill in her stomach. She clenched her jaw and blinked so her eyes wouldn’t start watering. “She died,” she said. She said it fast, like she was spitting out a tooth. “Carmine killed her.”

Sofia paused, and slowly removed the cigarette from her lips.

“When?” she asked.

“When I was a kid.” Selina spoke slowly and carefully, trying to resist the ache in her throat that wanted her to start crying. “He strangled her to death.”

Something crossed Sofia’s eyes, something slow and dark and hard for Selina’s decipher. Selina sucked in a deep breath through her nose, trying to unclench her whole body. The waitress brought her a refilled mug of coffee. But right now, she wished she had a cold, bitter bottle of whiskey. She took a sip then set it down.

“And your mother,” she said.

Sofia pursed her lips together and dropped her eyes to the table. Selina didn’t make her explain. Everyone knew what happened to Isabella Falcone. The beautiful, troubled wife of the king of Gotham’s underworld. Found in her bedroom with a noose around her lovely neck.

“I can’t believe it,” Sofia said. Her voice was shaking. Her hand gripped her mug with white knuckles. “With his own hands…both times with his own hands…”

Selina narrowed her eyes.

“Both times?” she said. “What are you talking about?” Sofia lifted her gaze to Selina, so dark and cold it made Selina shiver all over.

“My mother did not hang herself,” she said. “My father strangled her.”

Immediately, a cold, hard stone of dread dropped into Selina’s stomach. The back of her neck flared hot and she began to visibly tremble.

“He what?” she said.

The room around both women suddenly felt fuzzy, like they were sitting in a static television. All other sights and sounds became unintelligible except for their table.

“My mother tried to leave him when my brother and I were kids,” Sofia said. She explained it slowly, carefully, like her words were glass that could shatter. “She had a car waiting for her and everything. But before she could leave with us, my father strangled her to death in their bedroom.”

Selina's breath was frozen in her lungs. Her heartbeat was loud in her ear. And from the looks of it, Sofia was just the same.

“He made it look like she’d hung herself,” Sofia said. Then, her voice started to shiver and her eyes started to drip. “I was the one that found her.”

At this point, the waitress and the elderly couple were starting to look their way. No, they couldn’t draw attention, not even here. Selina sucked in a slow, deep breath and Sofia wiped her eyes with a napkin. But under the table, both their hands were shaking. “He killed them both,” Selina said. “In the exact same way…” “Why do you think he does it?” Sofia said. Her voice was soft and her eyes were to the wall. “So he can look into their eyes while they die? Feel their heartbeat disappear?”

“Maybe it’s so he can feel strong. To know he doesn’t need guns or blades to annihilate someone.”

At that moment, the dread and panic in both women alighted into something else. Something scalding, ravenous and explosive. Pure, blinding rage. “That bastard…” Sofia whispered.

“That son of a bitch,” Selina said. “That worthless, spineless piece of—”

CRACK.

All eyes in the diner turned to their table. Sofia and Selina glanced down to see a mess of shattered white ceramic over a puddle of coffee. The black liquid ran to both ends of the table to drip onto the floor. The waitress hurried over.

“What happened here?” she asked.

Sofia and Selina looked at each other, then looked down at their hands. Tiny flecks of white ceramic clung to each of their hands, between flecks of blood where they were cut. Two mugs of coffee, shattered in the grip of two hands.

“I’m sorry,” Sofia said. She didn’t look at the waitress. “We’ll pay for it.”

~ Sofia gave the waitress a wad of cash, enough to cover the two mugs and the meal, and even gave her her pearl earrings as a tip for her troubles. Then, she and Selina stepped outside, where the sky was still dark but the rain had ceased. Sofia lit another cigarette and stared off down the street.

“We have to do something,” she said.

“We should,” Selina said.

“And I don’t just mean stealing his diamonds. You and I both need more than that.”

An icy wind moaned down the street. Despite how big and anarchic Gotham was, it was surprisingly quiet on this street. Like even the rats of the city didn’t dare to disturb the two women.

“I have some ideas,” Selina said. “And I think we should do it tonight.” Her fingers curved into a fist, tight enough for her nail to pierce her palm. “I can’t wait until tomorrow.”

A long curl of smoke escaped Sofia’s lips. She dropped her cigarette on the ground and pressed it under her boot. Then, she turned to Selina, looked her right in the eye. Dark, pitch- black eyes. Just like Selina’s. Just like Maria’s. Just like Isabella’s.

“Whatever you’re thinking,” she said. “I’m ready.”

Chapter 3: Last Breath

Carmine Falcone was not unused to waking in the middle of the night. A lifetime in the underworld made you a light sleeper. One developed a kind of sense that was awake even when you were not, ready to pounce on a hand around your throat or a pillow over your face. So at first, it wasn’t strange that he opened his eyes to the full moon seeping through his window and a feeling that something was off.

He groaned as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His aging body creaked and groaned like the rest of the house. He slipped his feet into his slippers and tightened the knot of his black robe.

“Mickey?” Carmine called.

His nighttime bodyguard didn’t respond. He was supposed to remain outside of Carmine’s door the entire night. Carmine wondered if the bastard had fallen asleep. He lifted himself from the bed and headed to the door.

“You better not be dozing off,” he said. “I hate to do something bad at this ungodly hour.”

He opened the door and peaked out into the hallway. Mickey wasn’t at his post right outside the door. Carmine stepped out of the bedroom and looked down the hallway. The moonlight spilled from the arching windows, and between the wisping white curtain, he could a glimpse of a familiar figure, and the familiar glint of silver handcuffs.

“Mickey!” Carmine snapped. He stomped down the hallway towards where his bodyguard was standing against the wall. “What the hell are ya doing? This ain’t your post.”

He hobbled closer, and as he did Carmine realized something was off about his personal guard. Mickey wasn’t just leaning against the wall. His arms were at his side, limp, and he wasn’t moving or saying a word.

“You asleep?” Carmine said. “The hell’s wrong with you? I outta get my pistol and put one in you right—”

He grabbed Mickey by the shoulder, and immediately the whole weight of his body fell forward. Carmine scrambled out of the way as the guard fell face-first to the floor with a loud thump that shook the floorboards. 

“The fuck?!” Carmine said.

He looked down at Mickey’s body. In the dim moonlight, he saw a red spot on the back of the guard’s neck. Like he’d been injected from behind.

“Shit,” Carmine said.

A stone of dread dropped in his stomach. He turned to scurry back to his room and call for Milos. But before he could even start moving, he heard his bedroom door slam shut. He glanced up and saw a shadowy silhouette standing by the door.

“Evening, Carmine,” a feminine voice said. “Can’t sleep?” Carmine’s teeth clenched. Everyone called him Mr. Falcone, never Carmine. Everyone in Gotham knew to respect that. He moved closer to the door, trying to identify the face of the broad who broke into his house.

“Whoever the fuck you are,” he growled “You better—”

All of a sudden, someone grabbed him from behind and pressed a handkerchief over his mouth. Carmine bucked and fought against the hands behind him, but without his gun and his body still half-asleep, he couldn’t release himself in time. The handkerchief was cold and wet with something chemical, and in seconds his body drained and stumbled to the floor.

~

“He’s waking up,” Selina said.

Carmine’s eyes struggled open and he let out an aching moan. Selina and Sofia stood before the chair where they placed him, hands cuffed behind his back and his ankles tied to the wooden legs. The fireplace crackled and turned the two women to silhouettes, but the light was just enough for Carmine to make out their faces. His eyes flicked between them.

“Sofia,” he said. “And you…”

“Can’t even remember my name?” Selina said. She clicked her teeth. “You’re off to a bad start, Carmine.”

“What the hell is this?” he asked. “Where’s Mickey?”

“It’s nearly four in the morning,” Sofia said. “He’s asleep. Where else would he be?”

“No, they aren’t,” Carmine growled. “You two did something to Mickey.”

Selina shrugged. “He was passed out on the floor last time we saw him.”

“Maybe too much to drink,” Sofia said.

She plucked an iron poker from its stand and turned some of the logs in the fire. The flames sputtered and spat out a flurry of embers, one landing on the carpet just an inch from Carmine’s foot.

“Sofia, darling,” Carmine said. “What’s all this about?” Sofia stepped away from the fireplace but kept the hot poker in her hand. She glanced over at Selina.

“I think my sister can explain it,” she said. Carmine’s eyes widened and his lips parted. He looked frantically between the two women.

“How did you…” he said. He looked at Selina. “Did you…?” “Shush,” Sofia said.

She pressed the tip of poker on his big toe, and Carmine released a croak of pain. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to move his foot, but the rope kept it in place.

“Let her speak,” Sofia said.

She pulled back the poker, and a red, bleeding wound was left on Carmine’s wrinkled, hairy toe. Selina crossed her arms. “We’re here on behalf of our mothers,” Selina said. “Do you remember their names?”

“My…my wife was Isabella Falcone,” Carmine said.

“Wrong,” Sofia said.

She pressed the poker to Falcone’s other toe, harder this time, and Falcone released an even louder cry of agony. When Sofia pulled it out, the tip was shiny red.

“My mom was Isabella Gigante,” Sofia said. She gestured to Selina. “And her mom?”

Carmine, tears in his eyes, looked at Selina. He recognized her, she could tell. The pretty waitress in the tall leather boots who delivered drops and martinis to Oswald. The girl who had the hots for that Russian chick, enough to hold a gun to Carmine’s head. The girl who would’ve killed him if the Batman hadn’t stepped in first.

“Selina,” he said. “You’re Selina.”

“I am,” Selina said. “But who’s my mother?”

She stepped closer to his chair, towering over him, the flames crackling behind her like hellish brimstone.

“She…” Carmine said.

“She worked at the 44 Below. You two were close for a while. She brought me to the club all the time. I used to watch you. You probably saw me plenty of times.”

“Your mother…” Carmine’s brain scrambled. He knew Selina’s mother, but the panic in his body and the searing pain from the poker were muddling his thoughts.

“Maybe this will remind you,” Selina said.

She brought her hand to his face. Selina’s nails were long and claw-like. She pressed the pointed tips to the meat of his cheek, then pulled down. Carmine released a cackling yell of pain as Selina tore the skin down the side of his face. She left four, bleeding red lines, alone with flaps of peeled skin hanging from his flesh.

“Maria!” Carmine cried. “Her name…was Maria Kyle!”

“That’s it,” Selina said.

She stood up straight and backed up to stand beside Sofia.

“We’re not just here for them,” she said. “We’re also here for Annika, and those seven other girls you killed.”

“I didn’t kill those girls,” Carmine said. 

“Oh, really? Because you seem convinced that I did.” Sofia’s eyes darkened. “You were so sure of yourself that you sent me to Arkham.”

“Tell us, Carmine,” Selina said. Her hand was in her back pocket, but Carmine couldn’t see what she was holding. “Can you tell us the names of the girls who died?”

Carmine scoffed.

“How am I supposed to remember the names of seven whores I had nothing to do with?” he spat.

“Wrong answer,” Selina said. “Maybe I can help you again.”

Carmine’s face scrunched up, like he was expecting Selina to slash up the other side of his face too. But what he saw Selina pull out of her back pocket was much, much worse. In her cat-like hand, she held a taser.

“Do you know what they do to patients in Arkham?” Sofia said. “Do you or any of the big men in this city actually know?”

Selina clicked a button and the taser buzzed to light with a spark of electricity. Carmine’s heart lurched in his chest and he started struggling viciously against his restraints.

“The other inmates try to kick the snot out of you almost everyday,” Sofia said. “And the orderlies don’t do nothing about it. Sometimes, they even pin us against each other on purpose.”

Selina stepped back up to Carmine, taser bright and buzzing in her hands. Carmine was crying at this point, tears streaming down his face, muttering prayers in Italian under his breath.

“But the inmates and guards weren’t the worst,” Sofia said. “The worst were the doctors. The ones who said in the softest voices that they just wanted to help you.”

Selina grabbed Carmine by the tufts of his gray hair and forced his head back. 

“Please…please…” he begged.

“My doctor’s name was Ventris. Ever heard of him? He’s the one who conducted most of my treatments.” Sofia’s eyes darkened. “The worst of them…was the electroshock therapy.”

“No!” Carmine wailed.

“I didn’t even think they still did that stuff. Seems a little outdated, no? You’d think hospitals stopped using that years ago. Like they did with leeches.”

“Please, you can’t!”

“But maybe healing wasn’t really the point.” Sofia stepped up next to Selina, looking down at her father. A man who ruled over Gotham's underbelly, so feared by so many, quivering and shaking like a baby that pissed itself. “Arkham is a place of punishment.” She leaned down to her father’s face. “Can you imagine being in a house of horrors for ten years?”

Carmine’s face was shiny with tears and snot. He swallowed thickly before he spoke.

“Okay, I understand,” he said. “I hurt you both. And your mothers. And Annika.” He swallowed again. “Whatever I can do to repent for this, I’ll do it. Just name your price.”

“Price?” Selina snorted. “Guys like you think of everything in terms of money, do you?”

“And it’s not just us.” Sofia said. “Or our mothers. Or Annika. It’s those seven girls that you took out.”

Selina hissed right in Carmine’s ears.

“Those girls were not just whores,” she said. “They were people, with lives before you, and should have had lives after you.”

“Do you remember their names?” Sofia asked. “Can you name even one of them?”

“I…I…”

Carmine had no answer. Of course he didn’t. Sofia sighed and stood up straight, backing up by the fireplace to give Selina some room

“Let’s help jog your memory,” she said. “Maybe some electroshock could help.”

Sofia looked at Selina and cocked her head to Carmine’s foot. Selina nodded, then drove the taser into Carmine’s ankle. The man released a howl that echoed through the entire house. It clawed up his throat and rang across the walls.

“Summer Gleeson,” Selina said. “Remember her?”

Carmine heaved his breath in and out. He was too weak and in pain to even think. Before he could gather his senses again, Selina pressed the taser to his chin. Another long, agonizing scream.

“Taylor Montgomery,” Sofia said.

The two sisters took turns going down the list. Each time, Selina sent a sharp, electric pain through Carmine’s body.

"Nancy Hoffman."

Scream.

"Yolanda Jones."

Scream.

"Susannah Weakly."

Scream.

"Devri Blake."

Scream.

"Tricia Becker."

Scream.

His shin, his thigh, his stomach, his chest, his shoulder. After the final name, Selina took the taser and pressed it to Carmine’s neck. At that point, his throat was so torn from screaming that he could get out little more than a high-pitched rasp. He was weak and burning with so much pain that he wished they would just kill him already.

“If…I’m a monster,” Carmine managed to whisper. He looked at both of them. “Then you, my daughters, have become monsters like me.

Sofia pursed her lips. “You might be right, Falcone.”

“But we were our mothers’ girls first,” Selina said. She narrowed her eyes at Carmine, as sharp as a blade. “And no one hurts girls in my city.”

“Not anymore,” Sofia said.

Carmine looked at them both for a long moment, then finally, dropped his head to the Persian rug beneath their feet.

“Are you going to kill me?” he said. “Or keep me in this room like some toy?”

The sister looked at each other, then Carmine.

“We thought about keeping you here,” Sofia said. “See how much you can take until you’re just skin and bones.”

“But we are your daughters, Carmine,” Selina said. “And just like you, there’s really only one way we know how to finish the job.”

The two women approached his chair, Selina at the front while Sofia stood behind him.

“What’re you doing?” Carmine said.

Selina wrapped her hands around Carmine’ throat, her claws digging into his tender flesh. Sofia did the same from behind. Then, both of them started squeezing.

With whatever strength he could still muster, Carmine tried to fight back. He grunted as they closed around his windpipe, he bucked against the chair and the ropes, but they had worn him down.With one hand, Sofia grabbed his head and pulled his face back, and forced him to look in both their eyes as the breath left his lungs.

Maybe it was the loss of blood, the fleeting oxygen, or the sheer lack of sleep, but Carmine thought he saw more than just his daughter. Around them he saw more faces. Maria, Isabella, Annika, the seven girls, they hovered from the ceiling, bruises ringed around their throat, his hand prints on their bodies, watching down on him with pale, pupiless eyes, all of them screaming at him, their hands reaching to grab him and pull him away.

Soon, his daughters were gone. All that was left was the cold darkness around him, and nine screaming hands pulling him down, down down…

Chapter 4: Roses and Sunflowers

For a brief moment at dawn, Gotham was almost a city of gold. It was dark enough that the amber streetlights still flickered, but the sunrise left a shine over the glassy skyscrapers. To anyone awake this early, for a brief moment Gotham had more light than darkness. The only exception was the cemetery, which was cast in shade from the trees.

It was at this hour that Sofia and Selina arrived at their second grave of the morning. Both sisters were blurry-eyed from lack of sleep, from a night of too many revelations and too much ruminating on death, combined with the knowledge of the dominos that would fall in the coming day. Carmine Falcone was dead, hanging in his bedroom, waiting to be discovered by whichever family member was unfortunate enough to find him first.

But Falcone didn’t matter right now. Right now, the two sisters had flowers to deliver, to two women who mattered much more.

“My mother said she preferred roses because they had more variety,” Sofia said as she walked beside Selina. “Red for romance, yellow for friendship, pink for desire…she said there was a rose for every occasion.”

She glanced down at her white glove. There were a few small specks of dirt from when she clutched the bouquet in her hand. She’d left it when she and Selina visited Isabella’s tomb, though not before taking one petal and placing it in her pocket.

Selina grinned.

“My mom liked sunflowers because she thought we could both use them,” she said. “Gotham is so dark all the time. The days are short and rainy, the nights are long and cold.” She gestured to the bouquet of bright yellow blossoms rustling in her arms. “She told me that if you want a sun in Gotham, you have to grow it yourself.”

Sofia chuckled and nodded. She followed Selina to the morgue where she stopped in front of one engraving on the wall. Sofia stood beside her and read over the word, faded etching carefully: IN THE MEMORY OF MARIA KYLE. 1976—2004.

Sofia looked at Selina in the corner of her eye. Her sister was quiet, meditative, in the way that graves always made you. Sofia tried to imagine in her head what Maria Kyle may have looked like. She looked at Selina, tried to strip away Carmine’s features and see what was left, to find a portrait of women with the same dark skin and darker eyes, the same elegant figure and smokey voice.

“I haven’t visited her since I was last in the city,” Selina said.

Sofia pursed her lips and nodded. She visited her mother’s grave all the time, a privilege she didn’t realize she had until now.

“It must be nice to be back,” she said. “I’m sure she’s watching from above, happy to see you again.

“Yeah.” Then, Selina smirked. “She’d probably ask me why I keep bringing strangers with me when I visit.”

“You bring strangers here often?”

“Just you. And…one other person.”

Sofia raised an eyebrow.

“What other person?”

All of sudden, Selina went uncharacteristically shy. She bit down on her lower lip and tossed her gaze to the ground,

“I visited here right before I left for Gotham after the Riddler’s flood,” she said. “And…someone came and found me here. He…was the one who helped me find out that Falcone killed Annika.”

“Was he a cop?”

Selina shook her head.

“Not exactly. He was…a friend. Kind of. A friend, or something else too…

Sofia looked at Selina, who was twisting her leather glove in her hand like she was embarrassed. Sofia took a step closer.

“Well, who was he?” she asked.

“I…don’t really know his name.” “Well, how much of a friend is he if you don’t know his name?”

Selina chuckled and shook her head, then looked at Sofia.

“He calls him ‘The Batman,’” she said.

Sofia paused as her eyes widened and her lips parted.

“That masked freak with the cape who’s been beating up street urchins for the past two years?” she said. “You were getting close to that maniac?”

Selina wrapped her arms around herself and shrugged. There was a smile threatening to break onto her face and a heat crawling up her cheeks.

“He worked on the Riddler case,” she said. “Came by the Iceberg Lounge looking for Annika and we both got caught up in the whole thing.”

“I see.” Sofia stepped closer to her sister. “And based on your schoolgirl blush, I’m sensing you two got close.”

Selina grinned and turned to hide her face.

“Sort of,” she said.

“Did you get his name? See his face under the mask?” Sofia grinned and leaned closer to Selina. “Did you get him out of that suit?”

Selina flushed hot and pushed Sofia away.

“No,” she said. She paused and pursed her lips. “I kissed him once. That’s all he would allow for me.”

“A crime-fighter and a cat burglar,” Sofia said. “The kind of match only Gotham could make.”

Selina grinned. “You could say that.”

Sofia nodded then clucked her tongue.

“So, you lost Annika, and then you started making moves on the freak in the cape?”

Selina bit her lip.

“I mean…when you say it like that…”

Sofia laughed and nudged her sister in the side with her hip.

“I had no idea my own sister was such a player.”

Both of the women giggled. Sofia pressed her hands into her coat pockets. 

“I haven’t heard as much from him recently. Mostly on the news, helping out with flood relief.”

A soft smile on Selina’s face.

“That sounds like him,” she said.

Her face was dreamy, and she kept pursing her lips as if remembering a taste. 

“He’s been doing a lot less urchin-punching, lately,” Sofia said. “It’s nice to see someone doing it. Rich bastards like, I don’t know, Bruce Wayne or something, they give thousands of dollars to relief efforts while their mansions are untouched.” Then, Sofia paused. “Kind of like what my family does.”

Selina reached over and squeezed her sister’s arm.

“Hey,” she said. “Now that Carmine’s out, maybe you and your brother could do some good.”

Sofia snorted.

“You suggesting Alberto and I dress in leather and go out punching robbers?”

“I mean…your idea, not mine.”

The two women started laughing again, and suddenly the chilled late autumn air felt a bit warmer. For a moment, the two women felt like girls again. Doing what sisters do, exchanging secrets and jokes and a familiar pulse. The two of them stood together in silence for a long while, as the sun crept over the edge of the trees, turning the branches to silhouettes. The golden lift crept up to shine around Maria Kyle’s name. 

Then, the silence was interrupted by a loud ring. Sofia reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Selina didn’t recognize the name on the screen, but she saw the dark look in Sofia’s eyes.

“It’s my cousin,” she said. “They must have found Carmine.”

She stared at the phone until it stopped ringing. Then, she pocketed it and turned to Selina.

“I need to go deal with them,” she said. “Make sure our story is straight.” “Let me go with you,” Selina said.

Sofia shook her head.

“They don’t know who you are. Don’t know you’re involved in any way. It’s best we keep it that way.” She took Selina’s hand and squeezed it. “It’s my family. I know how to deal with them. In the meantime, stay low for a while. Leave the city if you have to. You have my number, you can tell me if you’re not okay.”

Selina felt something tight in her chest. Neither of them had any idea what this fallout would look like. If they would buy the fake suicide, if they would figure out it was Sofia. The thought that Sofia would fall while she ran away made Selina feel sick. She just met her sister, why did they have to separate so soon?

Sofia must have sensed her thoughts. Because she took both of Selina’s hands and squeezed them in hers.

“I want to see you again,” she said. “You’re my sister. I have so much more to learn about you.” She cupped a hand on the back of Selina’s head and pressed their foreheads together. “You and I are going to meet in that shitty diner again, and we’re going to talk, and once Carmine is buried, we’re going to dance on his grave together.”

A small, soft smile curled on Selina’s face.

“Call me when I need to come back.” she said. “Whether you’re in trouble or not.”

“I promise.”

The sun peaked from over the trees, and the city of Gotham began to rumble to life. Cars and taxis wheeled into the streets, the trains rumbled underground, millions of footsteps emerged onto the streets. And at the gates of the cemetery, two sisters parted in separate directions, smelling of flowers and blood. THE END

[timmydraker]

During a patrol in Gotham one night, Red Robin comes across a strange sight.

A young woman stands over a crumpled body with a sling shot primed and ready, aimed a man with a rather large hand gun. It’s clear she’s protecting the woman who looks like she’s been hit over the head and had her bag nabbed, as it’s ripped and contents are spilled everywhere.

The girl sits shaking, she isn’t scared at all, standing strong with a shard of glass aimed at the man’s crotch.

Tim jumps down and disarms the man smoothly before turning to the young girl, who upon closer inspection seems to be around thirteen years old.

“Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head and stares at him for a moment with awe in his eyes before her eyes widen and she turns to the person behind her, “But she is! That guy was cornering her and I tried to help but he hit her and-“

“Alright, I understand. Would you like to help me get her to the ER a few blocks away?”

The girl nods with a determination Tim remembers seeing in Dick and Jason in their Robin days and he smiles.

He doesn’t ask her what her name is because side he knows he’ll follow up and find something to feel guilty about, but the girl seems to have her own plans.

She shows up a couple of days later, standing on a tall building with a cheap Robin outfit on.

Tim is confused before he drops down and she gives a big grin and mock salute, “How can I help?”

Tim smiled a little before shaking his head, “Taking the title of Robin, are you?”

She nods, now more bashful, “Well, I want to help people. I don’t want to fight exactly, but… well, sometimes you bats are too busy with the villains to notice the little guy and- bro to say you’re a bad hero-“

“You’re right, it’s okay. We can only do so much and sometimes preventing more damage being done saves more lives, but there will always be a cost.”

She smiles, bright orange, and impressively curly, hair getting in her eyes and sticking to the poor quality glue of her fake domino.

“I want to help. I… can help, please.”

Tim answers after a solid minute of silence, “What is your name?”

She frowns, “Aren’t I supposed to have a secret identity?”

He smiles in answer, “Yes, but I know what you look like and I can find out, I’m asking out of politeness.”

The girl looks like she could pout and Tim feels strangely old at the sight, even if he’s still got a few months before he can even legally drink.

“Carrie. Caroline to be specific.”

Tim smiles, “Well, Carrie, here’s the deal. I will meet you here or somewhere like here every night and until, and only until, you can land a hit on me will I agree to let you help.”

While Carrie doesn’t look pleased she nods, a clear sense of hope in her eyes even as she looks nervous.

She looses the first fight, and the second and third and fourth, but she gets better and better.

Tim doesn’t tell anyone about Carrie Kelly, nor does he tell her that he does end up doing a back ground check and finds two dead beat parents more focused on weed than their incredibly skilled daughter.

When she proves to be relentless in her desire to save lives he sends her to a teacher to help her stay hidden and safe. He’s not like Bruce, he doesn’t send her overseas to some dangerous people, but close by and to someone he trust to not hurt her nor tell anyone else about the strange young girl whose managed to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Selina Kyle is more than happy to take in the girl when she watches her sling shot fire crackers at muggers.

When Carrie comes back and meets Tim on a rooftop, she not only manages to hit him but knocks him off his feet.

Tim grins at her, pride filling his mind and making him understand Bruce just a little more.

But unlike Bruce, he isn’t throwing her into the fight at all.

Tim Drake is the one who pays for her school pills while her yippie parents refuse to work or spend money on her, and sends her real time footage of medical lectures in various collages across the country.

Carrie doesn’t become Robin, nor did she even wear that suit after the second night and he gave her a basic training outfit that properly covered her eyes and hair, but she does become something else.

She becomes Cardinal, the vigilante that swoops in to save civilians and provide the medical care that saves hundreds of people and allows the ambulances and hospitals to have a chance.

When she makes her debut the other bats worry about a new kid making bad choices, probably inspired by them, but Tim ignores it if only because he’s actually proud of her and trust her in a way he hasn’t trusted teammates in years.

After a year of this, a young girl asks for a meeting with Mister Tim Drake at his company and, purely so he wouldn’t have to do more pointless numbers, he lets her in after she passes the security check.

The girl who comes into his office is barely ten, cute little clips in her dark bob hair and a big book bag almost half her size behind her.

Tim recognised her instantly once he sees the bright yellow shoes she’s wearing.

This little girl, name Mia Mizoguchi, has been stalking him and Carrie for a few months now.

After he enrolled Carrie at Gotham Academy, the young girl nicknamed ‘Maps’ had been asking Carrie a lot of questions. Carrie had been good at avoiding incriminating answers, but had fallen for the younger girls clever trap as she casually spoke out infomation that could help with cases and Carrie delivered it back to Tim.

As soon as he realised that Maps had done exactly what he had done and figured out who Carrie was he was impressed. Because even if Carrie was new to the game, she had a skill for tricking people into looking away from her and had done well to stay low.

Maps had made the connection back to Tim, apparently.

Luckily, unlike Bruce, he wasn’t ignorant to their little stalker and actually knew her family from a few galas and charities. To be fair, Tim also wasn’t clouded by grief, but as he lets the girl explain how she totally doesn’t know who Red Robin is but if she did know who he was she would want him to know that a new drug trade route was actually being covered by a cotton candy company and she has over sixty pages worth of proof.

When he shows up to The Nest (named by Carrie) with Maps behind him, he finds Cardinal waiting with an excited gleam in her eyes.

Due to her being so young, Tim doesn’t allow Maps to go into the field until she’s the same age as both he and Carrie were, but she’s quick to show her worth taking over coms and doing an insanely detailed level of detective work that Tim can’t help but be a little jealous of.

Just like Carrie, who has been trying with Selina about only becoming Catgirl if Catwoman stops being a criminal for a few weeks now, he sends her to someone else for mentor ship.

Maps is a sweet girl, but she loves to talk and has a lot of friends who have most of the same interest, so he sends her to the one bat member he trust most.

Cassandra Cain immediately tells Tim that he has to adopt both of them and can’t quite understand why them both having living parents matters.

It’s Cass who gives Maps her vigilante name, Sparrow.

[bluejys]

batman’s daughter 🐈‍⬛ !

synopsis ! when the bat and the cat have a daughter. she takes on the role of Feng and joins her father in protecting gotham. along side robin she joins the young justice league. a tale of a girl and a heroine wrapped in one. experiencing the good and evil.

pairing ! dick grayson x oc, wally west x oc ft batfamily, young justice league, outlaws, other ocs

genre ! oc insert, angst, fluff, humor

warnings ! violence, death, toxic relationships, villain behavior, jason’s death

status ! ongoing

chapters ! moodboards ⟆ prologue

x wisp

© bluejys 2024

[incorrectbatfam]

POV I tried to manifest becoming Jason Todd in 2023 but the universe somehow misheard me for Selina Kyle and now I'm currently waiting on my girlfriend's 6-year-old daughter's approval to continue my relationship