#this is the root of my love for the Batman 2022

[itspileofgoodthings]

Will a man ever love and appreciate me as much as the women in my life do? Things I ponder.

[batmanlovesnirvana]

Chapter six | cold truth & cigarettes.

masterlist

universe : reeves, the batman 2022

pairing : battinson!bruce wayne x fem!OC

words : +3K

author's note : This chapter is personal and touches on some political themes. It was originally meant to be 10k words, but I decided to post the first half on its own since it feels really important. I hope you'll stick with it until the end and share your thoughts. We dive deeper into Maryam's past and her traumas, and I'd love to know if you enjoyed it! Feel free to reblog and comment—your feedback really motivates me to keep writing. English isn't my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes in advance xx

cw : Maryam having an emotional existential crisis (part 2), political themes, mention of wars, 18+, thriller, medical procedures, angst, mental health issues, depression, ptsd, noire, canon-typical violence, POV alternating, gritty, horror, illness, slow burn, action, fluff, mutual pining, forced proximity, crime families, crime, fighting ect… read at your own risk

SHE HAD SWORN she would stop smoking. Promised herself, really. 

But the urge was too familiar, too persistent and promises made in the quiet of her mind always crumbled in the noise of reality. With a sigh, Maryam fumbled through her pocket, feeling the familiar shape of the cigarette pack. She pulled one out, placing it between her teeth, cursing softly as her fingers scrambled to find a lighter in the depths of her bag. 

She remained rooted to the spot where the Bat—or was it the drifter?—had left her, the faint echo of his departure lingering in the cold air.

The flicker of the flame caught the cigarette, and she took a deep drag, feeling the burn in her chest.

A voice broke through the silence behind her. "Boyfriend?"

She turned slightly, hazel eyes landing on a homeless man curled up on a worn mat, his face barely visible beneath the grime of the streets.

Maryam exhaled slowly, the smoke unfurling from her lips before she coughed. "Uh—what? No," she muttered, pulling the cigarette away, trying to collect herself, to straighten her thoughts along with her posture.

The man chuckled then coughed, a low, gravelly sound. "My bad then."

She took another drag, staring at the ground, fixating on a piece of gum stuck to the pavement. "Why'd you think that?" she asked, trying to sound indifferent, crossing her arms as she tapped ash from the cigarette.

He clacked his yellowing teeth together, his grin crooked. "The way you looked at him, I guess."

Maryam huffed, smoke swirling around her. "Looked at him how?"

"Like he could save you," the man said, his voice softened by the cold night air.

Her jaw tightened, irritation flaring. "Yeah, well... I don't need saving."

"Sure, sure," he replied, pulling a threadbare blanket tighter around himself. "People like you... don't need nobody, huh?"

His words hit her like a cold slap, it lingered in the air, mingling with the smoke. 

Maryam's eyes drifted to him, and after a long minute, she noticed his clothes—old, worn, but unmistakable. 

Veteran. 

The sight made her stomach tighten.

She fucking hated US veterans. Hated everything they symbolized. 

When she was younger, she'd seen the videos—those staged reunions where soldiers came back, surprising their children with hugs and tears. It happened all the time at her school, too. Soldiers, returning from some war she couldn't even place, cheered like heroes. 

But what had they really come back from? Murdering Middle Eastern children? Destroying families? Cities? Entire Countries? They weren't heroes in her eyes—just puppets in some propaganda machine, painted with a patriotic brush.

"You're a soldier," she said absently, the words tasting bitter as she blew out another puff of smoke.

"Yes, miss" hesitant he added." Iraq." His voice was low, almost careful.

Her body went rigid. The cigarette wavered in her hand. "Oh." She looked anywhere but at him. 

Once again, silence enveloped the space, thick and unspoken, as she fought to suppress the anger tightening her chest. It was a silence as cold as ice, unforgiving as a winter wind, suffocating in its weight.

Every breath dragged, bitter with words she couldn’t say and memories that cut deep.

The silence pressed in, forcing her to face wounds still raw and the injustices clawing just beneath her skin.

"How lovely." she says sarcasticly-- scratch that harshly. 

His bloodshot eyes looked anywhere but her, as if he was ashamed. "You don't seem--"

Before he could say another word, her patience snapped. “My uncle was Iraqi,” she bit out, her eyes sharp enough to kill. “Mohamed Rajab,” she added, almost to herself, the name barely a whisper as her gaze drifted, leaving the words heavy in the air.

His name felt almost foreign, the syllables heavy on her tongue, a relic of a past she could barely grasp. It had been years since she last spoke it aloud, and now it emerged as if from the depths of a grave—another ghost haunting her sorrow and grief. Each utterance was like a whisper from a forgotten time, bringing with it a rush of memories tinged with both warmth and despair.

The man shifted slightly on his mat, but said nothing, just watching her through tired eyes.

Maryam's mind drifted back, further into memories she rarely allowed herself to visit.

Aunt Jamila's husband. 

He had been in Iraq when the invasion began, a last-minute decision to return and bury his mother, unaware that fate would trap him in a storm of chaos and war.

Caught in the storm of chaos and war, his gentle soul trapped beneath the weight of bombs that fell from skies blackened by imperial greed.

Her sweet uncle had died there, under the bombs of imperialism, crushed by the same hands that wrapped themselves around countries, tearing them apart for power, for oil, for nothing at all. His life extinguished in an instant, another casualty in a conflict that cared little for the human cost.

His memory felt so distant now, like an echo from another lifetime, fading with each passing day. She could barely picture his face anymore, but she could still recall the way he always carried Turkish candies in his pockets—those delightful little treats with a gooey liquid center that melted in your mouth. They were her favorites. He would pull them out with a smile, passing them to the neighborhood children with a wink, even when times were hard. He had owned a modest market, a small shop that was the heart of their community, and somehow, it was enough.

Life had felt rich and full.

But then, the invasion happened. When the first bombs fell, he had still been in Iraq, still burying his mother, caught in the chaos with no way out.

They had clung to hope, waiting for him to return, believing against all odds that somehow he would make it back to them. But hope dwindled with each passing day, and the stark reality settled in.

He never made it back.

—In fact, none of his family made it out. All decimated. Dust.

She vividly recalled the day they received the news. How Aunt Jamila had screamed, collapsing in the kitchen, her wails piercing the air like shards of glass, as if her very soul had been ripped from her body.

Aunt Meysa had rushed to comfort her, cradling the pregnant woman as best she could, while her own heart shattered in the chaos.

Uncle Fawzi stood frozen by the window, his expression blank, eyes gazing into a world that had suddenly lost all meaning. The silence in the room felt suffocating, heavy with despair.

She had felt so small, so powerless, standing in the doorway, a mere shadow watching her family break apart yet again under the weight of another curse, another war that had ensnared them as if they were trapped in a nightmare with no escape.

It shattered Aunt Jamila. Destroyed her in ways Maryam could never fully comprehend.

Just months away from welcoming her first child, her aunt had been filled with hope despite the growing unrest. But the news of Mohamed's death, along with the obliteration of his entire family, became an unbearable burden. Soon after, she lost the baby, her first and last child, snuffed out before it ever had a chance to take a breath, a ghost that would never exist.

Maryam remembered how Aunt Meysa had told her there wasn't even a body to bury—only fragments, pieces of him scattered beneath the rubble, indistinguishable from the wreckage of their lives. The bombing had torn through their home, their neighborhood, leaving behind only silence and ash, memories mingled with dust.

But the worst part wasn't just the loss; it was the haunting loneliness that followed, a void that swallowed everything whole. The suffocating silence pressed in from all sides. There was no one to talk to, no one who would listen or care. The world had already made up its mind. 

In the post-9/11 haze, everyone was too engrossed in their own lives, too willing to swallow whatever narratives their governments fed them—stories of freedom, democracy, and the relentless fight against the so-called "enemy of democracy."

To them, people like Mohamed or Fawzi weren't fathers or husbands; they were mere abstractions. They weren't human. They were branded as terrorists, Islamists, faceless bodies stripped of identity, marked for death by the sheer accident of their birthplace, by the faith they practiced, by the cultures they cherished and fought to preserve. 

Their stories were reduced to statistics in a news report, their lives devalued, dismissed as collateral damage in a war that felt more like a game of chess than a human tragedy. As if their existence was a mere footnote in a narrative that never considered them worthy of remembrance.

Just dirty little Arabs.

Muslim terrorists.

Violent by nature.

Enemies of the state.

Radical extremists.

Savages in a primitive land.

Maryam exhaled slowly, the smoke burning her throat as the weight of it all pressed down on her chest, threatening to suffocate her under the collective grief, the unshed tears, the rage against a world that refused to see them as anything but monsters.

At this point, it felt like everyone had become desensitized to the images—Middle Eastern children blown to bits, their small bodies crumpled in the debris, their faces smeared across the news like they were nothing more than statistics.

It was as if the world had decided that this was their fate.

As if suffering was something they were meant to endure, something woven into their existence, to be endured without question, without grief.

When she thought about her uncle— she thought about the stories her family never fully told, but hinted at in the silences around the dinner table, in the careful way they avoided certain topics. He had been proud once, she remembered that much. Proud of his land, his people.

Until the war came.

Until everything was shattered.

She glanced back at the homeless man, her thoughts spiraling in the quiet of the early morning. He had probably seen the same horrors, lived through the same lies, though from the other side of the world. 

Maybe, in some twisted way, they both knew what it was like to be used. To be broken. 

But the difference was, people like him got to come home.

She never really did. 

The image of her uncle, buried beneath the rubble, under a sky choked with smoke and the deafening roar of jets, felt far too vivid now. It wasn't just a memory—it was a living thing, clawing at her insides. This was the kind of war that had seeped into her bones, the kind that had stolen so much from her family. 

And for what? So they could craft stories of heroism, tales of sacrifice? So soldiers could return draped in glory while the dead lay nameless in the dust, forgotten?

She glanced toward the American flag fluttering above the bank entrance just down the street, its colors stark against the gray sky. 

It felt like a cruel joke. 

After everything, after fighting so hard to earn a place here, to get their nationalities, to be accepted—and yet here she was, haunted by wars and destruction she couldn't escape.

Her throat tightened, and she took a drag from her cigarette, letting the smoke fill her lungs. She forced herself not to flinch, not to let the bitterness bleed into her face. 

She couldn't afford to.

The man shifted on his mat, his earlier bravado gone. His eyes softened, narrowing as if he'd begun to understand something unspoken between them. "I see," he said quietly, the weight of his words pressing down on the silence between them.

There was something else now in his voice—recognition, maybe even guilt. "War's... hell for everyone, I guess."

Hell? She swallowed, her throat constricting against the rising tide of grief. Hell didn't even begin to describe it. 

War wasn't just hell. War was a thief. 

It stole everything that mattered—lives, homes, futures—and left behind nothing but wreckage.

Iraq hadn't felt like a war. 

Srebrenica hadn't felt like a war. 

It had felt like being trapped in a nightmare, watching everything you love get torn away while the world pretended to care. It wasn't just the soldiers, the so-called heroes, who suffered. It was the forgotten, the nameless, the ones like her. The ones whose stories would never make it home. 

The ghosts.

She couldn't reply right away. Her voice felt fragile, like it would shatter the moment she opened her mouth. Instead, she stared at the flag, its proud flutter a mockery of everything she had lost, everything the world didn't care to remember.

Finally, she muttered, her voice low and rough, "Yeah," flicking the ash from her cigarette to the ground. "Hell for everyone."

But even as she said it, she knew hell didn't cover it. Hell didn't tear you apart in the same way; it didn't erase you from the world, didn't let history move on while you were still standing there, bleeding from the inside like a wound that refused to heal.

An agony that seeped into your bones, a gnawing ache that twisted your insides and left you gasping for breath, like drowning in the memories of those lost, memories that clung to you like shadows, haunting every moment.

Maryam's gaze stayed locked on the crumbling asphalt beneath her sneakers. The cigarette burned slowly between her fingers, but she didn't feel the heat. She didn't want to look at him. Didn't want to see whatever expression he'd try to wear—whether it was pity, guilt, or some hollow understanding. 

None of it mattered.

Her thoughts drifted back to her uncle once again, the one no one spoke about anymore. 

Him and her parents. 

Her brother. 

Her extended family.

The ones her family treated like ghosts, too painful to mention.

As if grieving them was poison. 

His memory hung in the silence of family dinners, in the way they tiptoed around certain topics, like stepping on landmines. Her uncle Mohamed had been proud once. She could still see it, the way his eyes used to light up when he talked about his land, his people.

But the war had come, and with it, destruction. He had fought to hold onto something, anything, but in the end, everything was shattered.

She remembered the stories she overheard late at night, when her family thought her and her siblings were asleep. Stories about how they found him—or what was left of him and his family. 

The land he had bled for, loved so fiercely, had turned to ashes, just like him. 

They just didn't talk about the aftermath.

They didn't talk about the ones who didn't make it home—not really. Because once they were gone, they were gone. 

Erased.

But Maryam hadn't forgotten. Couldn't bury it. Not like they had.

She could still feel the weight of them—the stories that were never told, the grief no one could bear to speak of. The silence in the wake of everything they had lost. 

Her uncle's pride, his dreams, had been buried along with him, forgotten by a world that kept spinning as if none of it had ever mattered.

But she was still here. Still carrying that weight, those memories that wouldn't fade. The anger that wouldn't let her rest.

She took another drag, the smoke filling her lungs, thick and bitter. She exhaled slowly, watching it curl up into the air, dissipating like the lives of the ones lost to wars no one cared to remember. 

Finally, she glanced at him, her voice hollow. "You don't know the half of it."

He didn't respond right away. The silence between them stretched, thick and uncomfortable, like the weight of all the unspoken things that had nowhere to go. She didn't care. She certainly didn't need his words, didn't need his sympathy or whatever hollow platitude he might offer. 

There was nothing he could say that would fix it.

The doctor crushed the half-finished cigarette on a near bin, grinding it into metal of it with deliberate motion. Watching the embers fade, snuffed out like the lives lost to senseless wars.

It felt like a ritual—something small, something pointless—but it was the only control she had left.

He shifted beside her, the mat creaking beneath him as he adjusted his weight.

She could feel his eyes on her, but she refused to meet his gaze, to acknowledge his presence. What could he possibly understand? He wasn't the one standing in the rubble, watching everything he knew burn to the ground. He wasn't the one left behind, forced to sift through the ashes of a shattered life, desperately searching for remnants of hope amidst the devastation.

No, he was the one who had taken part in it all—the one who had marched into the chaos, while she remained trapped in the wreckage, haunted by the ghosts of those she had lost.

"Look..." he began, his voice hesitant now, unsure. "I didn't mean to—"

"Save it," she cut him off, the sharpness of her voice slicing through the air like a blade. "I've heard it all before." She wrapped her arms around herself, more to keep the memories from spilling over than from the chill in the air.

His silence was answer enough. He wasn't going to push, and she was grateful for that—grateful for once that someone didn't try to offer solutions to a problem that couldn't be solved.

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to steady herself. The air tasted like smoke and rain, thick with the scent of something burning far off in the distance.

Maybe it was just her imagination, but it felt too close, too real—like the wars were still with her, clinging to her skin and sinking into her bones, refusing to let go.

"You must have seen a lot over there," Maryam said quietly after a while, the words barely more than a murmur, as if they weren't hers to ask. Each syllable hung in the air like a fragile promise, a flicker of connection in the suffocating silence that surrounded them. 

"More than I care to remember," he replied. His voice was rough, but there was something hollow behind it, as if he were speaking through a fog of memories he couldn't shake. "Lost a lot of good men. Did things... none of us should've had to do."

The confession hung heavy in the night air. Maryam's heart thudded painfully against her ribs, a flood of memories threatening to surface—the wars she fled, the ruins she walked through, the faces of people she once knew. 

"And what, you think that makes it better? That you regret it now?" she asked, her voice harsher than she intended, breaking the delicate thread of understanding that had started to form.

The man sighed, a long, weary sound. "No. Regret don't fix anything, miss. But it's all I got now."

Maryam crossed her arms tightly, as if holding herself together.

The old anger still simmered, but it was tangled now with something else—something more complex, more painful. She wanted to hate him, like she hated the others. But standing there, hearing the exhaustion in his voice, it felt... harder.

After a long pause, she looked up at him for the first time, really looked.

His eyes were tired, bloodshot, bottles of alcohol laced around him but there was no defiance in them, no pride. Just a man, worn down by too many battles—some fought overseas, some right here on these streets.

She took a step back, blinking against the burning sensation creeping behind her eyes. "Doesn't change anything," she whispered, but the words sounded hollow, even to her.

"No, it doesn't," he agreed, pulling his blanket tighter around himself, retreating into the comfort of its worn fabric.

Maryam stood there for a moment longer, feeling the weight of the conversation settle deep in her bones. She wasn't sure what she'd expected—a confrontation, maybe, something explosive. 

But all she felt was tired. 

Tired of the anger, tired of the guilt, tired of the endless cycle of pain.

Finally, she forced herself to speak, her voice low and rough. "War doesn't end when the fighting stops. It stays with you. It eats away at everything you are, everything you thought you knew. And no one... no one cares about what it does to the ones left behind."

Her words hung in the air, thick with the weight of all the unsaid things she couldn't bring herself to explain. She had learned long ago that some wounds never healed. Some scars were too deep.

The man beside her said nothing, and for once, it was the right response. There was nothing more to say.

Finally, she turned, her gaze fixed ahead, and without looking back, she whispered, almost to herself, "They're all gone. And so am I."

She swallowed hard, surprising herself as she asked softly, "What is your name?" Her hands found their way to the pockets of her trench coat, searching for warmth or some semblance of comfort.

"Bryan Geoffray Jr.," he replied, his voice hoarse yet steady.

She nodded, her mind racing as she fished out three crumpled dollars from her pocket, placing them in his cup. 

It wasn't much, but it was all she had on her, a small offering in the face of shared despair.

Tears bloomed in his already bloodshot eyes, and she quickly looked away, uncomfortable under the weight of his gratitude. He whispered a thank you, his voice thick with emotion. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry for what we did."

"Take care of yourself," she said quietly, flicking the ash from her cigarette to the ground. As she turned to leave, she tossed another coin into the small pot in front of him, a small token of connection before breaking away.

She walked away then, leaving the stranger, the cigarette smoke, and the weight of her past behind her. But as she disappeared into the night, the memories stayed. 

They always did.

"Same to you, miss," he called after her, his voice trailing off into the cold air.

previous chapter | next chapter

...

[finniestoncrane]

hey i'm here to see a movie in your wee cinema!!

i'd love to see gn!reader sit in the front row with ssktjl!boomer, watching an action movie while eating strawberry ice cream<33 (sorry if the requests are suppose to be more straightforward, i like the lil set up you have and wanted to play along heheh)

also congratulations on 2k followers!! i've been following you since the peak batman 2022 days and you're a writer i always look forward to seeing on my dash. i'd love to be entered into your commission raffle too if that's okay?? thank you for your writing, you're a real treasure<33

ah, thank you bug!! i'm glad we're growing from terrible boy to terrible boy together ;-; and of course!! 💚🩷 cw: blood, injury, hurt/comfort (physical wounds), flirting, drunk george 🔞minors dni🔞 send a request • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie2k (to follow or to block)

Usually you wouldn't answer your door in the middle of the night. And you certainly wouldn't answer it to the loud, threatening pounding that had shaken you awake. But as you approached it, nearest solid object in hand as your only weapon, you felt your body relaxing. Outside of the door you could hear George's voice, mumbling.

Drunk. Again. And no doubt making an attempt at a late night 'root' as he often put it.

But when you swung open the door, you found him slumped between two men, beaten, bruised and bloody, and filled with questions which were quickly answered by his reluctant assistants.

"Nah, you were right, he's completely wasted. Didn't stop him trying to fist fight three guys in the parking lot, though. All because they claimed that the Flash was the best one in the Justice League. He never stood a chance."

And when two patrons had decided they couldn't watch him be beat to death, regardless of how much they felt he deserved it, your address was the one he had chosen to give them.

"Great. Well, thanks. I can take him from here."

As they passed him over to you, George smiled, his mouth filled with blood that spilled over his lips as he spoke.

"Ah, see! I knew you'd be good for it, babe!"

With his arm around your shoulder, you practically carried him over to your sofa and let him slump down into it. His eyes were closed over, but he was still grinning, a wide and stupid smile that was irritatingly pulling at your heart strings.

You snapped your fingers in front of his face, calling his name until he opened his eyes and focused, very slowly, on you.

"Hey! Don't fall asleep yet. I need to make sure you're ok, first."

"Cos you like me?"

"Hm. More that I don't want a dead guy on my couch."

He laughed, snorting incredulously.

"Yeah... it's cos you like me."

The moment you began to wipe away the blood on his face, however, he made an attempt to bat you away.

"Oi! Get off, I'll be fine! I think I can take a beating without needing to be looked after, thank you very much."

George stood up from the couch and immediately stumbled over nothing, falling back down with a heavy thud.

"Come on, Harkness. Don't act like you're so tough and brave. I think you've forgotten how many times you've been on this couch in a drunken stupor. Now, stop with the machismo and let me look at you, idiot."

You took his face in your hands, and though he stubbornly wiggled at first, he calmed down as your thumb grazed across his cheekbone, your eyes focused on his as you surveyed the damage, the blooming bruises in the corners that spread to the bridge of his nose.

"You're hands... are so soft..."

He smiled at you, a genuine, gentle grin that you couldn't help but return.

"... I can think of somewhere else that might need some attention from them."

"Aw, come on."

As you stood up and turned from him, hiding your smile, you could hear him groaning.

"What? What was wrong with that? I thought you were going to look after me? Nurse? Nurse! Oi! Get back here for my sponge bath!"

[outtoshatter]

Hello this is hours late for "Friday" but here is a rec list made up of SEVERAL fandoms, brought to you by the DnDoods fanserver! :D

Young Root, Old Rock | T | 90k+ | incomplete | Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018)

Summary: Twenty-two years in the future, someone sets bait. It’s digital, manifested onto a computer anonymously and covered in as many guts as a real fishhook. Twenty-two years in the past, a file pops up on Donnie’s desktop. He's nothing if not curious, so he bites. Or: How do you crack spatiotemporal egg?

early-morning emergency | G | 3k | The Batman (Movie 2022)

Summary: “Um,” asks the little voice at the other end of the phone, “are you Selina?” Selina pulls the phone away from her face to check the screen again, making sure that she’s not going crazy. No, the phone calling her is definitely Batman’s. “What,” she says, “the hell?”

only the deepest love | T | 40k+ | 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù

Summary: From a young age, Wei Wuxian has told himself and anyone who will listen that he’s never getting married. Then he gets off on the wrong foot with the cold, aloof, wealthy, irritatingly pretty Hanguang-jun. After that, Wei Wuxian tells himself he’s definitely never getting married. (A Pride & Prejudice-inspired AU.)

Viridian: The Green Guide | T | 272k+ | 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Summary: After his dream is finally crushed, Izuku isn’t quite sure there’s anything left for him to live for, but…he can’t exactly kill himself either, not without hurting the people he cares the most about. So, when he realizes that the quirkless can’t technically be vigilantes, it seems like the best of both worlds. He’ll be able to save people even without being a hero and, if he happens to die while he’s at it…well, like Kacchan said, maybe he’d be born with a quirk in the next life.

Made With Adrenaline | G | 2k | Teen Wolf (TV)

Summary: “Do you still have your name?” His face scrunches, “Do I still have my name?” But - the words come out before he’s even considered the question. Instantly, he’s back in that edgeless cavern inside his head. He calls out for his name, but no noise leaves his lips. He doesn’t know it. He doesn’t know his name.

🔒The Benjamin Franklin Key-and-Kite Experiment | E | 122k | Supernatural (TV)

Summary: “Thank you for stopping by, Dean,” Emmanuel says, holding out the jacket. “I hope to see you in church on Sunday.” The tips of Dean’s fingers accidentally brush over the back of Emmanuel’s hand when he reaches for the jacket. “Probably not,” Dean laughs as he pulls Dad’s jacket around him. “Like I said before, I’m not exactly a believer. You?” Emmanuel doesn’t answer immediately. Then, without really looking at Dean (more like looking through him,) he whispers, “I will be.” - Or 1.12 but Dean's faith healer is Emmanuel!Cas

There is No Ethical Consumption | NR | 4k | Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)

Summary: Henry Oak, druid and lifelong vegan, doesn't want to eat meat, even in a survival situation. Darryl Wilson, scared he's going to watch his friend starve, has to try and talk him into it.

I Won't Ever Stop Hating You | T | 18k / 4 works | Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)

Summary: “Dad doesn't give a shit if we’re late,” Glenn says, and Jodie glares at him. Jodie’s an adult now, which is a weird thing for Glenn to wrap his head around. He knows that Jodie is older, a six year difference, and considering Glenn is 12, it makes logical sense. But Jodie doesn't act like an adult, he’s so fucking annoying and whiney it's stupid. Glenn has always hated his brother, he gets onto him about literally everything he does, it's way more annoying than Mom. At least she tries to pretend like she likes it when Glenn is visiting her house. “Glenn, language.” The woman in question scolds from where she stands at the counter in the kitchen. Jodie is standing near the front door, his arms folded over his chest and his satchel bag is on his hip as well as his duffle bag that he always takes to Mom’s house. Glenn still hasn't packed, too busy listening to his new record that he got with money from selling the laser pointers that Dad gave him.

Love is bullshit, except for when it's not | T | 8k | Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)

Summary: Bill always told Glenn that romance was bullshit. Glenn chose to fall in love anyway.

Thank you everyone for participating! That was super fun and I'm super glad we all got to experience some new fandoms today! :D

[dg-outlaw]

'The Penguin - Episode 1: After Hours' Review/Thoughts

** Mild Spoilers Ahead **

So I'll start off by saying, I'm not a big fan of mobster/drug lord movies and shows. Same goes for the rich people/corporate shows like Succession or Billions. Basically, if the general premise is; these people are rich and/or powerful, come watch them betray, kill, and/or be assholes to other people and one another to achieve and maintain that wealth or power, and there's likely to be no justice had... then yeah, not for me. If anything, watching Netflix's The Fall of the House of Usher (2023) was more about catharsis than entertainment for me. IYKYK.

Obviously, I know there's more nuance than that when it comes to many of these shows and movies as there's also outstanding performances and interesting storylines, but something about them reminding me of the injustices and/or corporate greed of the real world just puts me off most of the time. If I'm going to watch media like that then I usually have to be in a certain mood for it or I'm hooked by the characters.

Early previews of The Penguin gave me the same mobster vibe as many crime shows. There will be no heroes, no Batman, and likely no real justice, but being in the Batman and Matt Reeves Bat-verse, I wanted to give it a shot.

Is The Penguin different from other mobster crime shows? Yes and no. No, in that it still has all the mobster show flavor and if it weren't in the Batman world, I'd maybe give it a pass, but because it is Batman and Gotham, then yes, there's enough interesting flavor here to keep me wanting to see what happens next.

If you're not aware, this series takes place soon after the events of Matt Reeves' The Batman (2022). Carmine Falcone is dead, Gotham is still recovering from the flood caused by The Riddler, though it seems the parts of Gotham mostly affected and still in disarray are the lower-income areas, and Batman is... probably napping? IDK, but it'll be interesting to see how Batman gets interwoven into this series or is generally not present.

Colin Farrell returns as Oswald Cobblepot/The Penguin... or as he's referenced in the series, Oz Cobb, and he's looking to make a name for himself.

Without getting into the details (as there are likely a million legit summary reviews of Episode 1 online now), Oz quickly sets things in motion that starts a series of dominoes falling that may or may not result in his downfall before he even begins his climb to the top of the crime world, and I guess this is where the show finds its intrigue. In my mind, it's very Breaking Bad in the sense that you keep watching just to see what happens next. Will our protagonist get caught and meet a horrible fate or will they actually get away with it and achieve their goals... and at what cost? And why am I rooting for the bad guy? But instead of just fumbling down into the depths of the crime world like Walter White, Oz wants this, he wants to be on top, but the question is, has he bitten off more than he can chew or will he finally take hold of the brass ring?

Ultimately, I think it's the Gotham world and characters that has me wanting to see more and to see how it all plays out. This is not to say that the performances aren't great or the characters aren't intriguing, and Cristin Milioti as Sofia Falcone is definitely scary, even if she's not comically accurate as a some giant mountain of a woman, but again, part of this is knowing the characters from comics and other media depictions. I don't need the full Penguin backstory or to know all about the Falcones and Maronis, the comics and other media have done that setup already, but it does help with investment IMO.

Also, I love the grime of this Gotham and also how it's contrasted with the wealth and cleanliness of other parts of Gotham, especially outside of downtown. The creators understood the assignment for this show and it definitely plays a part when it comes to motivations. This Gotham isn't one note and I'm glad that it doesn't look like some clean set that takes you out of the world and reminds you that you're watching a TV show, like so many streaming shows and movies do nowadays. Yes, there's violence and language and Farrell, once again, disappears into the role of Penguin, but there's also some humor in this show. The humor fits and doesn't feel forced, but it also allows the audience to breathe for a moment and enjoy the experience.

So, I think if you're a Batman fan, you know these characters a little bit, and you want to go into a show that is likely to not have Batman or any other heroes, I say, jump in and enjoy. But if you're not as familiar or are a casual fan, and you're not really into crime/mobster shows, then this might not be for you.

Also, new canon (I think?) that The Penguin is a fan of Dolly Parton or at least has a mix CD of 'Go out there and get it' songs, is so fun. I still HC that Parton's "9 to 5" is a Duke Thomas song he plays every morning before getting ready for patrol, but having that little extra character note for The Penguin was a nice touch and gave a new character, Victor, a little more insight into his new boss.

[just-about-nothing]

it’s two am and i am not sleeping again. so. casting for birds of prey: comics version

oracle played by margo gignac. this was a mega difficult decision bc i wanted barbara to be played by someone who was an actual wheelchair user + someone who looks like she could scold batman into submission. gignac fits that best i can do. i also think she has great hacking hands. i read gignac was a black belt somewhere & i think that’s great for someone playing babs too

black canary played by lindsay watson. it’s wig time babey! i specifically wanted to pick a dark haired actress because, even though dinah’s dying her hair by the time bop rolls around, i don’t forget her roots (pun totally intended). i wanted to pick someone who looked like she could kick an army’s ass and then scoop up a child & call them sister. watson fits the bill nicely. i think she has a kind face and her interviews speak to so much determination and willpower, which is the energy i want brought to dinah.

huntress played by tea falco. she’s an italian actress from sicily (like helena! who was born in the us but raised in sicily) who just has this look to her i really love, especially for bop huntress. she seems fun and beautiful and like a good teacher. i don't have a lot to say here, really. i looked at her face and went yeah that's huntress

lady blackhawk played by america ferrera. i think about zinda having a beer while huntress & canary destroy the bar & zinda walks away w the info theyre looking for. big america ferrera vibes. also i love the idea of lady blackhawk being played by an actress named america. also zinda’s hot & america ferrera’s hot i have no other notes here.

lady shiva played by lucy liu. this is the inspiration for this post and also my personal sapphic fantasy ngl. (liu is beautiful of course and i have the fattest crush on shiva lol)

right. boy time!

nightwing played by paul eryk atlas. my understanding is that atlas is a romani british actor. he's primarily played romantic leads and def looks it. i like him for nightwing bc that's basically dick's role in bop. he serves to be barbara's on again off again bf. also atlas has long hair and i'm a long hair dick supremacist (now. wigs do exist but dude got LUUUSHHH hair). (runner up: jan cina, who's just a little too ectomorphic for nightwing for my tastes. sorry dude)

ted kord played by robert buckely. i got nothing to say. buckely has a nice smile and is otherwise a white dude w brown hair. which is also what ted is. so. between a kord played by buckely and oracle played by gignac, oracle remains the powerhouse. as it should be.

robin (tim drake) played by jay lycurgo. was titans supposed to be awful? yes. did i see lycurgo get cast and go DAMN THAT'S TIM. yes. he has that look in his face. that's all. also i saw him in the bastard child devil show on netflix and he gave off THEE BIGGEST tim drake energy there. i was very impressed. (runner up: david mazouz just for the lols).

batman played by robert pattinson. sue me i liked the batman 2022. no notes.

[ilikedyourablogithere]

My Dislyte Favorite 2022 Awards

I liked alot of stuff so this will be a while

Favorite Character Award: Falken

He looks like a batman villain/ kakashi/ Iori yagami and a Yugioh character mixed into one intimadating look guy but in actuality...he’s just a bit awkward and get misunderstood from time to time but he’s good people.

His story of having to rely on himself to support his family regardless of what was thrown at him is very admirable and you can’t help but want to root for him but then he meet Sander and finally made a friend and he learns to rely on others instead of doing everything himself and then wants to go out and do the same for others. And even though he has lost his friend it didn’t stop him from forging his own sense of justice and continues to move forward. He is a very interesting character to me and I look forward to whatever happens to him

Also he has laser beams, revenge energy stealing eye powers and he can turn into and summon a falcon! how cool is that

Best Boy Award: Lewis

I’ve always been a fan of boxer characters if a game has one I gotta use ‘em and Lewis is no exception. But what really hooked me on him is his wanting to do right by the people in his life. Even when his sister left to go the bad guys side he isn’t trying to drag her back by force or anything, he’s just being a big brother and showing her a good example (whether she’s paying attention is a whole different issue). He got good friends around him like Bardon, Tang Xuan and Li Ling as well as a pretty good mentor in Gaius looking out for him. All and all I think he’s doing just great

My favorite part was that little trivia about how he’s secretly trying to improve his penmanship. Just one of those tiny things that just make gravitate to certain characters.

Best Girl Award: Laura

She’s so dang nice and she just to help people. A bit basic? Not at all. It’s actually super hard to be nice. Like she first went to go be a doctor so she could help people but even after she became a surgeon when she got her superpowers she then went on to join the Esper Union. It’s like lady you’re a doctor you’re saving lives you’re doing good and Laura said “NO! I can be even more nice“ then goes on to save even more people

Like she just adopts a random kid she barely knows anything about. Like people don’t just do that. Being nice isn’t a basic thing at all. And all that nice and kindess she puts just gets to you and make you feel all warm inside and ... how can you not like her?

[NO BEST WAIFU OR HUSBANDO FOR 2022]

[NO BEST SHIP FOR 2022]

for whatever percent of y’all that were wondering about that. I dunno nothing really stuck. maybe next year

Best Anthro Award: Daylon

Should come as no surprise seeing how Sobek was one of my top picks from mythos that I wanted in the game and ever since he arrived I’ve been very satisfied

He’s actually a very chill guy. Nothing too grand or far out there. He’s just a guy, sure he may scare off someone from time to time with the whole crocodile “situation” but that’s not gonna stop him from living his life and helping out where he can as earnestly as he can

Best Monstergirl Award: Melanie

For as overused as the medusa, gorgon, snakes for hair gag is Melanie make it entertaining. Not a dull moment when it comes to her

Her complete unamusement of Fabrice (unless sleep depraved from binge reading shojo mangas) her not taking any nonsense from Leon, Ren Si or Biondina. Her big sister vibes with Li Guang and of course her goofy side she get to show off when she’s around her best friend Celine and she doesn’t have to be the responsible one for a bit.

She’s always just amusing where ever she shows up in the story (obviously someone’s favorite on the game’s team) and I look forward to more of her

Best Mythology Award: Egyptian

While all the character designs in the game are stellar  it’s the Egyptian mythos that stood out the most for me. Whenever a new one dropped they’re decked out in gold and jewelry. Not shy on giving furries some love. The colors from Kaylee being the color of the desert sand to Tiye the night sky. And of course the diversity of blackness. Can not stress enough how nice it is to not be this small corner of the fanbase that just gets brushed over and ignored all the time where we get like 3 and then a bunch of racially ambiguous ones who people will always fight you over because the idea of someone being black just have to be fought back against and it is nice to not have to do that for once...it is very nice

But ya I’ve been loving what I’ve been seeing and hope to love whatever comes next

Best Element Award: Inferno

I like ‘em hot and spicy and this element never disappoint. They can be Fighter Defender Controller Healer you give an inferno unit any role and you’ll never hear anyone thinking it is a bad idea. Flame on!

Best Boss Award: Fafnir

The icy lady is always a fun one to go up against. Whether I’m autoing her or playing the game myself I’m always on edge. All it takes is one move, one resist check and you can be collecting your relics with pride or have your team completely wipe out.

Not to mention her boss theme is a great one

Best Billboard Event Award: Bloody Hunt

Out of all the ones we had this is the one always feel relevant because so many things that were established start getting their pay off. Like various bounties bios and small one off topics that were casually brought up that you didn’t even give that much of a thought somehow end up being actual points of importance in the event. And most importantly of all...Bloody Hunt didn’t “end“ like nothing was really resolved and it feels like something that will come back to at some point in the story

Also dat trailer for it

oh so cool

Best Side Event Award: Origami Love

While I can’t say Ophelia is one of my top faves in the game she did bring along Esper Feud. And like no question my favorite side event

I had so much fun racking my brain figuring out how to beat challenges

Also the story was pretty enjoyable

Best Boss Theme Award: The Dark Star Lord

ho boy did they go that extra mile with this track. Even if you’re not good at this boss fight you still end up feeling good cause you get to here this great beat

and THEN the transition into another rendition of Enter Your Mind seriously how many versions did people submit of this one song ? not that I’M complain of course. My ears love it

Best DJ Contest Track Award : Refuge

Sorry wise there wasn’t much meat on that bone

But that song sure did make up for it. Had that on repeat nonstop for the longest

Best Character Theme Song Award: Reine des Roses

Like I love all the characters themes but I say Abigail’s edges out for that fun factor in it for me

Best Song Sung by the in game Characters: Soul Mate sung by Ahmed

Kinda the only one in this category for now but I still wanted to say it cause it IS a great song

ANYWAYS That’s that

Think I covered all my dislyte faves for 2022 and most certainly can’t wait for what dislyte does next

but for now

HAPPY NEW YEARS CHAMP

let’s make the best of it. stay safe out there

[mouseratz]

excuse me. time for a comic nerd post.

"do you think space ghost could work as an unironic superhero" anything is possible. I'd say dynamite's current attempt isn't looking fantastic from the previews/summaries, but I also would say superheroes, as a genre, have been known to do a lot more with a lot less than what this series has. "it's stupid" isn't enough of a roadblock to actually be a problem. the way I see it, the two major problems have very little to do with Coast to Coast & it's legacy (the biggest superheroes have been parodied successfully many, many times over and yet still managed to Do Both, so to speak- Lego Batman is beloved by fans and didn't keep The Batman 2022 from coming out, y'know, although our friend is far from Batman, superheroes as a genre have long had to exist alongside parody and done just fine is my point):

1. in an effort to escape coast to coast, I imagine all creatives will be tempted by the horrible spectre that infects all superhero stories at one time or another in a post-TDKR world: the need for gritty dark angsty troubled superheroes. this will not help anything, and will not appeal to many fans; it will off-put people coming from sgc2c AND fail to stand out from a sea of pre-existing angsty sci-fi superhero stories, but many will be convinced it's the only possible way for anyone to take the series remotely seriously.

2. space ghost, as a series, seems like it was pretty memorable to its original childhood audience. however, the reason parody has overshadowed it, is that the main character.....doesn't appear to have a lot of character to speak of. can you tell me a single character trait? he's just a guy in space doing 'good' things. ('good' in quotation marks, but that was just kind of par for the course for this era. they had heroes doing any damn thing.) the things, to me, that appear to be cherished is that distinctive 60s sci-fi flavor that permeated the world & villains, since I don't think plot seems to be discussed too widely.

....and y'know I do kind of get that. I really love 60s fantastic four & the 1966 batman show (although the latter already emerged with some purposeful comedic elements and stylization, itself referencing the Very Old Batman stories and becoming more popular than what came before).

my point being, space ghost himself from his core roots is kind of serving a nothingburger. this could be changed with someone with a very strong vision, but I imagine we won't get that. see point 1- we will be getting Generic Troubled Superhero Guy (In Space), which we already have a million of. that's why it's gonna suck. not bc it's not trying to be "funny" or it's impossible to coexist with parody versions, but because it's just another grab at nostalgia from the 60s era of superheroes that probably won't try to be any fun. are they gonna put the saucer crab in the Dynamite comic? that's the real question.

[bogwitchmediaconsumption]

hi ok been EVEN more months haha oopsies

ok i kinda didn't know what to put on this blog because i started getting way too obsessed with superheroes and stopped consuming as much dw(i still love it but like... superheroes are so COOL) so i thought that in order to keep this thing updated, i'd just expand my horizons by porting over my big media watch/read/play/listen list! this is gonna be a massive post of everything so far, and then new updates will be new pieces of media! everything listed in order(and some brief thoughts)

Batman: The Court of Owls - Snyder/Capullo (Great!) Batman: The Court of Owls Vol 2/The City of Owls - Snyder/Capullo (Alright...)

Batman: The Night of Owls - Snyder/Capullo (Meh, but I had incorrect expectations)

Inscryption(Fucking phenomenal, play this bizarre ass game)

Doctor Who Series 2(Very good!)

Much Ado About Nothing - Shakespeare, a reading (Loved this one)

Neon Genesis Evangelion - The Original Show (yeah this was a fixation for a while too)

Undertale (really good, but not as loved for me as others)

Julius Caesar, a reading - Shakespeare (Good one Billy)

Donmar Warehouse Production of Julius Caesar (go women go)

A Page of Madness - 1926 Movie (makes no sense but hell yeah)

Legend of Zelda Oracle of Ages (God this game frustrated me so much)

As You Like It, a reading - Shakespeare (I think I remember which play this is)

Howl, and Other Poems - Allen Ginsberg (Liked this one! Howl is the strongest by a lot though)

Lunch Poems - Frank O'Hara (Very cool!)

Rewatch of Over The Garden Wall (god this show is so fucking incredible)

Everything Everywhere All At Once - 2022 Movie (my movie of the year so far, it's beautiful)

Words Bubble Up Like Soda Pop - 2021 Movie (Cute! but it's not much more than that)

Cat Soup - 2003 Short Film (Awesome but also What the Fuck?)

Swamp Thing Vol. 1: The Root of All Evil - Millar/Hester/Morrison

Cat Soup Rewatch (Had to share with a friend)

Bee and Puppycat Season 1 (Adorable!! so lovely and cute)

Everything Everywhere All At Once Rewatch (had to get a friend to see it for the first time)

Bee and Puppycat Season 1 Rewatch (Ok don't judge me)

The Residents: Triple Trouble - 2022 Movie (idk how to start with this one)

Watchmen - Moore/Gibbons (got some nitpick gripes with the ending: but it's fucking brilliant)

Neon Genesis Evangelion: The End of Evangelion (Really good! Better ending than the show)

Leonor - 1975 Movie (nothing quite like a theatre yelling "jump off the bridge")

Smiling Friends Season 1 (I knew a lot of the jokes going it, but it's still gutbusting)

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (get his ass Gawain, or get yours got, I guess)

Bless The Daughter Raised by A Voice in Her Head - Warsan Shire (a couple really standout poems in a mostly just ok volume. if this one comes across as harsh, i had to analyze this for 3+ weeks for class)

Adventure Time Season 1 (it's my roommate's favorite show, i'd never seen it)

Doctor Who: The Heralds of Destruction - Cornell/Jones (it's good, with material that does hold, but it's not any spectacular)

Batman & Robin - 1997 Movie (Awful, but also not that)

Super Mario Bros - 1993 Movie (This shit slaps, idc what anyone else says)

Neon Genesis Evangelion: Volumes 1-3 - Yoshiyuki Sadamoto (It's good on it's own, but it's especially interesting as an adaptation of the show)

JLA: Earth 2 - Morrison/Quitely (I really like it, but also wish it was longer)

Adventure Time Season 2(still cute!)

The Amazing Spider-Man: Edge of Spider-Verse - lotsa people (They're mostly fine Spider introductions with the man-spider guy one being notably bad and Peni's being notably good)

Adventure Time Season 3 (fun, I started getting really into the show at this point)

Adventure Time Season 4 (fun, still ramping on excitement)

Adventure Time Season 5 (good, but maybe my least favorite season. just a lot of sadder episodes in this one)

Fahrenheit 451 - 2018 Film (it sucks. also they should've been gay. but what do I know)

Ariel - Sylvia Plath (yeah ok cut out my heart why don't you)

Legend of Zelda Majora's Mask - Akira Himekawa (very fun interpretation of the story! but i wish it was a bit longer)

Legend of Zelda Oracle of Seasons (I like this one more than ages, but not by much)

Scott Pilgrim Comic Reread, All 6 Volumes - Bryan Lee O'Malley (I still love it and find a LOAD in it, despite it's occasional drastically poor choice in language or implication

Le Mani Sulla Citta - 1963 Film (god i could watch italian guys argue all day) watched between Scott Pilgrim Volumes 1 and 2 but I wanted to keep it neat

Adventure Time Season 6(maybe my favorite season? either this one or season 7)

Dracula Ballet - Milwaukee Ballet Company (Good show! read the book first or it won't make a lick of sense)

Robo Sapiens: Tales of Tomorrow - Toranosuke Shimada (very very cool, super interesting almost a little martian chronicles esque)

Murder On The Orient Express - 2017 Film (very fun and interesting movie to watch: should be noted i've never read the book)

Adventure Time Season 7 (on rereading episode lists, this one is probably my easy favorite. so many good ones)

Pokemon Blue (i was trying to do a generationlocke, you see)

Never Open It: The Taboo Trilogy - Ken Niimura (really really good, the art is especially great in this one)

Pokemon Crystal (see?)

Pokemon Emerald (SEE???)

Adventure Time Season 8 (Great, but the beginning of a slight downward trend in my enjoyment of the show. it becomes more plot focused than character focused here, and that did make it a bit less fun. still great though)

Loveless - Alice Oseman (I love a lot of her books, and I love this one too! but for some reason it just doesn't strike me as fully satisfying and i don't know why)

Pokemon Firered Omega (SEE???? also i wanted to add romhacks to make it harder)

Adventure Time Season 9 (some really good character moments, but it is even more plot focused here)

Spiderman: Into The Spider-Verse - 2018 Film (holy fuck this movie is incredible, maybe just as loved as EEAAO?)

The Complete Maus - Art Spiegelman (really good! art is great, and the metanarrative is super interesting)

Pokemon Blue (I died)

Time Guardian Volume 1 - Kishi/Ichinose (it's fun, but nothing really beyond that)

Pokemon Blue (guess who died again)

Adventure Time Season 10 (finally did it! the most plot focused of the last seasons, and thus it's maybe the least memorable to me. still really good though)

Spiderman: Across The Spider-Verse - 2023 Movie (it's great, but not quite as good as the first because it doesn't stand-alone. chock full of the best visuals, voicing, and story of the year though)

Pokemon Crystal (ok....)

Pokemon Emerald (uh huh......)

Ghost in the Shell - 1995 Film (Really weird and interesting and pretty! I liked it)

Knives Out - 2019 Film (it's very good, especially because of the family banter and performances. without it's cast it would probably not be so great. though the plotting does come together in the end for me)

The Spectacular Spider-Man Season 1 (oh my GOD this show is so good)

Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery (it's good, but I really love to see the detective/criminal battle of wits in mystery/detective movies and that's really not what this movie is)

Snow, Glass, Apples - Gaiman/Doran (interesting take of a fairy tale!)

Punisher 2099 #1 (it's ok)

Punisher 2099 #2 (it's also ok, neither here nor there)

Batman: Fear State - Tynion IV/Jimenez (I do like it, but i wish it placed more character moments front and center. it also tries to juggle SO many damn characters, and a lot of them just feel like cameos)

Shin Godzilla - 2016 Film (you can TELL that the evangelion team worked on this, it rocks. also the movie is very good)

A Field In England - 2013 Film (it's interesting, and weird, but maybe not anything special quality wise)

The Mexican Night - Lawrence Ferlinghetti (spongebob screaming meme I LOVE READING JOURNALS. I LOVE HEARING NOTHING BUT YOUR THOUGHTS AS YOU GO ABOUT YOUR DAY)

Vern, Custodian of the Universe - Tyrell Waiters (it's cool, and the visuals are great, but the plot is not especially good and it starts to lose what makes it interesting later on)

Barbie - 2023 Film (hilarious, incredible)

Beowulf Graphic Novel - Petrucha/Chamberlain (an interesting take on Beowulf, the art is great![no, i don't know how many times i'm gonna keep saying it either])

Bloom - Panetta/Ganucheau (it's cute and good, but it doesn't go into enough detail or character depth to stick with me)

Inferno - Hickman/Caselli (it's like. alright. it's mostly a political thriller, which is not what i was hoping for when i got it at the library. that's one thing, but i also don't think it's an especially good political thriller. I also don't think it knows where it's going really. i still don't know where it was going and i read the ending and everything.)

Pokemon Blue(it had to all come crashing down eventually, right?)

Cucumber Quest: The Doughnut Kingdom - Gigi D.G. (it's cute and charming! not a lot here beyond that)

20,000 Leagues Under the Sea - 1954 Movie (it's engaging and interesting, but i'm not sure what to think critically. good? bad? i kinda don't know. also it's disney in the 50's, there's some gratuitous racism)

Porco Rosso - 1992 Film (the whole "oooh fio likes porco" thing makes me a little uncomfy, but besides that the movie is BALLER. go porco go)

The Golem: How He Came Into The World - 1920 Film (it's interesting, but it's not as enjoyable as stuff like Caligari or Page of Madness)

Superman: For All Seasons - Loeb/Sale (oh my GOD this rocks. so good, so down to earth, so enjoyable. i love this)

All-Star Superman - Morrison/Quitely (I really like this a lot, but I do feel it kinda is off base with what's appealing about Superman to me. it takes Superman and really spins him as a mythical god level figure, to the point where Lois refuses to believe he's Clark and... what the story is is very good. but Superman being regular ol' Clark at the end of the day is what makes him so wonderful to me. This is absolutely a Superman that pretends to be Clark Kent. feel like that's a big distinction. lex's characterization is PHENOMENAL though, SO good.)

And now... my most recent watch............

yeah ok it's more superman

My Adventures with Superman Season 1 (it's phenomenal. like spectacular spider-man levels of good. The voicing, animation, designs, writing, it's ALL here. the overarching plot is also particularly capturing in this show, which sometimes fails to be the case for some superhero shows! i will say that i start to dislike SOME elements of the overarching plot introduced in Ep. 7 and beyond, but they don't diminish my love of this show very much at all. cannot WAIT for season 2 foaming at the mouth, chomping, zinging around my room etc)

alright! so that just took me like an hour and a half. but that kinda stuff is what i think i wanna do with this blog for now! so if that's your cup of tea keep hanging around! and if it's not... well there's always a chance i decide to change it again so idk your call.

[idrawgaystffs]

Alright cutting this off shorter

I posted 3,853 times in 2022

115 posts created (3%)

3,738 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@pizza-box-raccoon

@selfdestructivecat

@stillebesat

@tastic-in-its-finest

@whyamionlyabletouse32characters

(Hm! I’ll leave the tagging on, hope you don’t mind)

I tagged 3,852 of my posts in 2022

(Find the one post I didn’t tag if you have the time)

#reblog - 3,638 posts

#sanders sides - 900 posts

#hollow knight - 306 posts

#art - 286 posts

#animals - 270 posts

#video - 209 posts

#mairimashita! iruma kun - 192 posts

#comic - 190 posts

#cats - 178 posts

#caps - 169 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#never judge a ‘simple’ art style for being less ‘labor intensive’ or ‘skilled’ compared to something the ‘masters’ do. it’s so hard for me

(I stand by it! ^)

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Made something based on @ 5am-the-foxing-hour’s beach day tss incorrect quotes post that was too funny not to draw

Close ups under the cut!

See the full post

67 notes - Posted September 28, 2022

(Fun one this!)

#4

@ i-hate-liking-batman’s fic “I’ll take Care of Your Roots So Grow Tall, My Love” is just one of the best Love trio fics in my opinion, and it made me want to draw the fluffy little version of the guardian of cutthroat valley! Here it is, and I love it a lot :D!

75 notes - Posted April 12, 2022

(Still Check It Out!)

#3

A Calamity (Chalchiutlicue) from “No Evil”

[Reblogs Appreciated by the Artist!]

82 notes - Posted November 17, 2022

(Ah new interest how I love you)

#2

Sm dark sides :>

109 notes - Posted March 29, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Virgil and Remus fusion for fun

112 notes - Posted March 22, 2022

(Not a big fan of this one oh well)

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[felicitykings]

my bestie @holly-mckenzie tagged me to post 8 shows to get to know me. 

tagging: @justabritishmusicallover , @gothamstreetcat, @brvceselina, @apple-grass-and-smiles, @sonyarebecchi, @kaz-breker, @jennortegas, @mike-el , @gaffney, and @charlieconwayy

(please note: this is in no particular order)

stranger things (2016-) - i’ve been obsessed with this show since the start really, there’s just something about it, particularly those first two seasons, that just keeps me coming back. there’s fun characters that i enjoy watching and it has an awesome soundtrack!

gotham (2014-2019) - truthfully this was the first piece of media that really connected me to batman and that world. i’d seen movies before but i never felt connected to the character. but something about watching this kid grow up and earn the cowl, especially with all the choices he made that eventually led to him becoming batman had me rooting for him. and honestly, every single cast member on this show is so perfectly cast - particularly RLT as oswald. they’re the gold standard for me now. and i loved how everything fit together in this retelling.

primeval (2007-2011) this show has always been that show that has felt like mine, you know? i have so many fond memories of watching this growing up and it has always stuck with me without it ever being repeated on tv or having a large fanbase that regularly makes content long after the show is over. no, the show has just always stayed with me all through its own merit of having lovable characters and a really great storyline that i will always be upset was never allowed to be completed.

dark (2017-2020) - admittedly, i was super late to this party having only watched it earlier this year but WOW what a show. i think i can honestly say that this may be the best written and conceived show of all time - certainly of the shows i’ve watched. i have literally no complaints about it. the fact that most, if not all, the story seems to have been planned from the beginning is obvious with the number of twists and turns and strong character development/story arcs and it just makes it all the better when you can rewatch and spot even more each time. this show is incredible! i really can’t say enough about it and if i keep going here, i’ll never stop.

stargirl (2020-2022) - stargirl my beloved you were taken from me far too soon. i’ll be honest and say that i wasn’t expecting to love this show as much as i do when i decided to give it a shot. but it was so utterly charming with truly likeable characters - whether they’re heroes or villains - that you can genuinely enjoy watching. and it has a strangely nostalgic feel/tone despite its modern day setting that just adds to its likeability. 

rtd era! whoniverse (2005-2011) - this is probably cheating but just including doctor who in general felt wrong when it is this era (main show and spinoffs) that i cherish the most and i couldn’t include one without the others. maybe its the nostalgia idk but this was when the series felt the most grounded to me and despite its issues i still adore it as an era of this show’s history. the shows worked great side by side, targeting different audiences, with characters that felt real. in the case of the main show, you really felt that the companions were real people, with real lives who were plucked out of them to go travel with the doctor and it really dealt with the consequences of that which has been seriously lacking in recent years. for torchwood, the characters were allowed to be messy, truly truly messy and just plain human. they made mistakes, there wasn’t always some magical fix for them, they were on earth with limited resources just doing the best they can and sometimes it might not be the ‘right way’ but they still try and it’s beautiful. for sja, they’re just kids but they’re still real kids and they were never treated as less than their adult counterparts, they were given room to grow but never in a way that seemed patronising. there’s a magic in this specific era that i will love my whole life.

roswell (1999-2002) - i’ve always adored the balance that this show managed to get between the typical early 00s teen drama side and the sci-fi/fantasty elements. while in a lot of teen sci-fi fantasy shows these days focus on that rather than character dynamics/growth, this one really excelled at giving each character a compelling arc throughout the show, while developing a strong individual dynamic between every possible pairing of its main cast which is amazing compared to some of its contemporaries where there’s always characters who never interact outside the group setting. as such, you really get to see why these characters are putting themselves on the line for each other time and time again. they’re really a family and it’s shown consistently through the show (rather than characters just saying it without any development or actions to back it up) and it’s incredibly endearing.

the originals (2013-2018) - what can i say? i love this disfunctional “frankenstein family”. the show has its ups and downs but they’re all a mess and i love them. how many times can a group of people stab each other in the back? plenty and i truly love every second of it. morally grey characters / villain protagonists and such an interesting concept because there are barely any “good” guys to root for, it’s just a case of season by season, and sometimes episode by episode, deciding which ones are right this time, if any of them are.

other faves include:

pennyworth

all creatures great and small (2020-)

1899

swamp thing

the tracy beaker franchise

waterloo road (2006-2015)

sense8

get even

on my block

nowhere boys

we are lady parts

wolfblood

one of us is lying

teen wolf (specifically s1-4)

[selkymaiden]

so sorry again for the double ask but i feel inclined to ask for my other wife, mina.

how would mina’s relationship with each of the 🧩❓s that exist be like? who do you think she’d get on with like a house on fire 😏

Don't ever be sorry!!! Tbh they're good exercises to really think about these little idiots. Naomi you really be hittin' the good good 👌👨‍🍳 *chef's kiss*

Alright but let me say this is very hard because 🧩❓ is so... Ofc very vastly intelligent and I am not. LMAO. So it's like the author (me) is creating a character (Mina) who is very smart, or brilliant in her own way so I have to do my best in not making her look bad. Like fuck. All because I'm committed to the bit. Aka romancing fucking uhhhh puzzle face.

Because I have actually thought about the different iterations of him!

But oh my god It's so hard with comic book characters though, since theirs so many different ones. And in no way am I a 🧩❓ expert flakjwer same with 🐧 so I'm always worried what if someone see's this and they're all 🤬 but then I tell myself I'm old and I simply should not care and do what I want. Because all the rest of the old people do 😂😂😂😂

I'll start with BTAS though, as always, since I grew up with it! Oh! And I will say each Mina in each universe is for that universe, or she'd be changed a little to fit that 'Earth' as DC likes to call it. But BTAS 🧩❓ is a lot more tame, at least I think he is, compared to some of the others out there. I mean did he try to murder his old boss? Yes. But his old boss did fire him and not give him credit for everything he created so... You know... And if I pull in some of the uhhh New Animated Series and comics that go with this version of him. I think it could work. There's actually a great piece in the comics where 🧩❓ he admits he has a problem and states he needs to go back to Arkham himself. Here is an audio someone made of it, the post also has a link to the comic if you wanna read it! But it's just the self awareness and you know stop setting deathtraps Mina is obv going to be all 👀😊 Like you did it, baby! You're breaking the cycle! Because she wants to root for him and care for him and be partners! I'm so sorry I will just also say she is so cheesy! She'd love to be partners or rivals with another detective- As much as she sees the good she's doing in finding you know a missing person or helping someone out with a cheating scandal (for money) she wants to be better than anyone else that might be doing the case. So she kind of sees her job as a game and would love to have someone else to play the game with, and that to her is 🧩❓

Okay, let me just get Batman: Zero Year or Capullo 🧩❓ out of the way. It would never work. LMAO. Not in probably a million years. I myself like this version of him! But what he did is the most whack-ass shit and Mina would NOT be okay with it like ever. If he ever got out of Arkham Asylum she'd probably narc on him point blank, like lock that MF back up. I don't know if you've read Zero Year (is it part of N52? I don't know the new stuff sorry flkajwer) but he basically turned all of Gotham into an entire fucking jungle, like he destroyed everything and fucking ruined millions of lives. All for what? For what? Because only the smart should survive and shit like that??? Now if they met before he did all that when he was just a 'consultant' or strategist at Wayne Enterprises, she'd probably bang him! But it would not be a relationship and after he does what he does she'd just be... Kill this mf even if he's sexy in some insane manner. She'd probably be an antagonist to him on this Earth.

Batman 2022 ehhhhhhhhhh Imma be real, I almost barely remember him when I watched that movie. It's like my brain blocked him cuz I thought he was... I don't know. It was too realistic and I see 🧩❓more camp. But Mina in that universe again would just be 'Let's swat this man.' She'd probably be the person on his forums just heckling him and when he tries to find her IP or ANYTHING on this user (her) he can't. So it pisses him off. Basically, it would not work because she does not care for incel men. That's probably what she'd see him as. Or those people that worship or are fascinated and collect serial killer items. The only saving grace is if he had, again, self-awareness of what he was doing or acting. Because Mina in that universe would understand to change things... A lot of people in power would need to be taken out. Whether by assassination or some other means like spilling the truth. But the way he goes about it, it's just not it for her. Again she'd probably be an antagonist to him actually in that Earth.

THIS IS SO LONG ALREADY I'M SO SORRY!

UMMMMMMM SPEED RUN OTHERS!?

Young Justice - I think it would work because he's so... That version of him is so soft and goofy! Mina would probably, not be okay, but would defiantly harp on him to change professions but she wouldn't impede in what he does. Even if it's bad. Like super bad where the young justice league has taken him in before. She'd be a bystander and just the one that says: "I told you so." She's waiting for him to learn his lesson cuz how he's written is much lighter and she'd be smitten by his gappy teeth and lisp.

OH and Gotham!🧩❓ That would be interesting bc she'd probably have to watch out since 🐧 literally killed one of Ed's girlfriends. But if birb is occupied with snake then... Maybe? Again she'd be like 'lol you gotta stop killing people dude uhhhh' and would more likely want to be a rival or just outsmart him than be romantic. At first. I'm sure she'd get a crush but how Ed has been written after (accidentally) killing his first GF he's uhhhh a lil unhinged. As that whole show is but lakfjwerkl

There's like telltale!🧩❓, unburied, and uhhh omg just a lot of others and I'll be honest in most of those Earths she'd be an antagonist. She's not GCPD or a cop, but she is someone who's defiantly done cases and probably found out they were victims of his death traps. And she's just like 'wtf no!' and not be okay with it. Even if she's a bit of a hypocrite and is okay with other... murders... (her friend Sophie turning people to stone lfkajwer) But there's a line!

I saved the best for last because I love Akrham! 🧩❓ I have the most ideas for them. Well, several. Like there's a good ending and a bad ending just like a game, cuz it's fun! I will just say bad ending is probably the most likely that would happen, but bad ending is just them killing each other. And in the most mundane way, or annoying way he'd see it as. Because it would not be some elaborate death trap or puzzle that does him in, or just something complex. She shoots him. They might even shoot each other. And bleed out next to each other, very possession 1981 is how I picture it. tw blood and gore if you click links alfkjwelrk (I'm sorry I'm unwell 😔) It would be in a cool setting though! Probably in one of his lairs, or he's constructing a new death trap for Batman or even Wonder City! But good ending is always him eventually becoming a Detective, like other versions of him, so in a way, he does become redeemable. I mean originally this version of him started off working at the GCPD and wanting to expose the corruption in Gotham, he just went about it all... Bad. LMAO. Also, I love how the progression through the games you see how he goes from clean-cut to just total ratification. When Mina begins talking to him she's only seen photos of him, so when he worked GCPD and when he's in his nice green suits! but when they do get to meet in person PHEW she takes one look at his pathetic, skin and bones, wet little dumbass and is just 'I need to care for him' but also be mad bc you know he's annoying AF.

[tundrakatiebean]

Media List 2023

Ok I’m making a list of the things I want to watch/read/have been suggested to me etc before I lose track lol and so people can look if they want to see I guess. I’m putting suggestions on this list too even if I haven’t looked into them very hard and I think it goes without saying that just because it’s on the list doesn’t mean I’ll get to it.

None of these are in any real order, but I’m doing a numbered list so I can use a random number generator if I’m getting decision paralysis. I’m putting where I can personally watch them for reference, they may be available other places that I don’t have a subscription to.

Movies

Pinocchio (2022), Netflix

Glass Onion (2022), Netflix

Girl in the Picture (2022), Netflix

Pan’s Labyrinth (2006), rent/buy

Bird’s of Prey (2020), HBOMax, Owned

Carol (2015), Prime

Blue is the Warmest Color (2013), rent/buy

Love Simon (2018), rent/buy

Moonlight (2016), rent/buy

Parasite (2019), Hulu

The Batman (2022), HBOMax

Lighthouse (2019), rent/buy

Bladerunner 2049 (2017), Hulu

Vertigo (1958), Rent/buy

Pleasure Unwoven (2009), youtube?

Weird: The Al Yankovich Story (2022), ?

The Last Unicorn (1982), Prime

The Green Mile (1999), rent/buy

Spirited Away (2001), HBOMax

Princess Mononoke (1997), HBOMax

Everything Everywhere All At once (2022), rent/buy

Possession (1981), rent/buy

Bicycle Thieves (1948), HBOMax

The Menu (2022), HBOMax

Amélie (2001), ?

Brokeback Mountain (2005), Netflix

Wall-E (2008), rent/buy

Black Girl (1956), rent/buy

Yi Yi (1999), rent/buy

Sunset Boulevard (1950), rent/buy

Imitation of Life (1959), rent/buy

The Apartment (1960), Paramount+

Taxi Driver (1976), Paramount+

Seven Samurai (1954), HBOMax

The Godfather (1972), Prime

2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), HBOMax

Tokyo Story (1953), HBOMax

The Invitation (2022), Netflix

Shows

Castlevania, Netflix (started and need to finish)

The Haunting of Bly Manor, Netflix

Midnight Mass, Netflix

Fleabag, Prime

Xena, ?

The Two People Who Can’t Fall in Love, ?

Dead End: Paranormal Park, Netflix

Wellington Paranormal, HBOMax

James Acaster comedy, Netflix

Centaurworld, Netflix

Tuca & Bertie, Netflix

Kid Cosmic, Netflix

What We Do In the Shadows, Hulu

Veronica Mars, Hulu

Defunctland, YouTube

Ted Lasso, Apple+

Books

How to Hide an Empire by Daniel Immerwahr

Unmasking Autism by Devon Price

The Roots of Desire by Marion Roach

Why Does He Do That? by Lundy Bancroft

The Kalevala

Armed Struggle: The History of the IRA by Richard English

The Age of Surveillance Capitalism by Shoshana Zuboff

ADHD After Dark by Ari Tuckman

Your Brain’s Not Broken  by Tamara Rosier (audiobook)

Misfit Mage by Michael Taggart

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes by Suzanne Collins (audiobook)

The Affair of the Poisons by Anne Somerset

Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens

Fun Home by Alison Bechdel

The Ex-Con, Voodoo Priest, Goddess, and the African King by William Jones

My Name is Ron by the family of Ron Goldman

I did it by Fred and Kim Goldman

Death of Innocence by Mamie Till-Mobley

The Kitchen God’s Wife by Amy Tan

Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and his Years of Pilgramage by Haruki Murakami

If Walls Could Talk by Lucy Worsley

How to be an Artist by Jerry Saltz

The Blood Never Dried by John Newsinger

Bright Dead Things by Ada Limón

History of the World in 6 Glasses by Tom Standage (audiobook)

A Woman of No Importance by Sonia Purnell (audiobook)

Hate to Want You by Alisha Rai (audiobook)

Lazy Does Not Exist by Devon Price (audiobook)

How to be an Artist by Jerry Saltz (gift)

An Anthology of Finnish Folktales edited and translated by Helena Henderson

Games

Venba (spring 2023)

Dordgone (spring 2023)

Storyteller (March 23, 2023)

Fe (skipping, it makes me cranky)

LOVE

A Short Hike

To The Moon

Finding Paradise

Night in the Woods

Life is Strange one and two

Spiritfarer

Life is Strange: True Colors

Powerwash Simulator

[twilightreformation]

I posted 153 times in 2022

12 posts created (8%)

141 posts reblogged (92%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@musingsofvenus

@howlonghaveyoubeenseventeen

@panlight

@edwardsshinyvolvo

I tagged 114 of my posts in 2022

Only 25% of my posts had no tags

#the batman - 29 posts

#twilight 2008 - 8 posts

#bright and loved - 5 posts

#ryn dot text - 4 posts

#melodramatic nerds (loving) - 3 posts

#fic recs - 3 posts

#jacob black - 3 posts

#so true - 2 posts

#this - 2 posts

#gilmore girls - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 135 characters

#and then bella & the nightsisters defeat darth maul with their grey jediness while they hide edward because darth maul doesn't like him

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

guess whose high school drama department is having a twilight movie night

7 notes - Posted February 8, 2022

#4

yknow I think twilight would be wayyyyy more interesting if instead of just falling in love with a vampire, bella BECAME a vampire before she ever really knew who edward was. like imagine she has to become a vampire to survive the car crash, for plot reasons or whatever newborns aren't as bloodthirsty, and bella has to navigate her vampirehood while hiding this new aspect of her unlife from her high school & her dad. idk I just think twilight would have been so much cooler if it was more exciting than a supernatural romance

45 notes - Posted March 18, 2022

#3

completely random tangent BUT I just realized that jess mariano & bella swan have a lot in common. they were both raised by flighty, unreliable single mothers; they're both heavy readers; they're both highly introverted with low social batteries & low self-esteem; they both like to take care of things on their own (i was also going to say that they both had to take on responsibilities at home, but I realized there's technically nothing in the gilmore girls canon to support that. it's just a headcanon I have for jess bc liz is liz). the real difference between them is that jess generally projects his issues outward and causes external destruction, while bella generally sets her issues aside in favor of self-sacrifice & self isolation.

54 notes - Posted February 7, 2022

#2

it really bothers me how much malice the cullens have for the wolfpack. like, first of all, you're on THEIR land, they've abided by YOUR treaty to the letter (that you shouldn't have even made, btw. you should have left), and then to go on and use literal racial slurs and threaten to murder them every other day? when you ostensibly have the same goals of 1) protect bella 2) protect humans in general? it's absolutely disgusting. like I'm not pulling a bella "why can't we all get along! :(" here because the cullens are absolutely in the wrong here and have so much to apologize for, but it makes me angry how much they seem to hate wolfpack even beyond land disputes, simply because they exist (also the cullen's fault, btw, since they wouldn't have phased at all if the cullens had never been there) AND IN SPITE OF THE FACT that they are supposed to have the same values and goals. it can only be motivated by racism and considering we're supposed to root for the cullens and hold them as ideal, it's really gross.

81 notes - Posted January 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I don't think we talk enough about how catherine hardwicke fixed the pacing of the twilight. in the book, laurent, victoria, and james just appear out of nowhere when the plot demands it. there's no buildup, no foreshadowing, because as @bellaslilpapercut said here, that entire sequence is the secondary climax. the book's focus is completely on bella and edward's relationship arc, which for all intents and purposes concluded when he brought her to meet his family. the main antagonist is edward and his own nature more than james is. but in the film, the murder trio acts as the main antagonistic force. mysterious murders are occurring across town, and charlie as the chief is investigating it. you see them take place, and you know that these vampires are bad news. bella and edward's relationship still takes the forefront, but the mystery of these other vampires is always in the back of your mind. as bella unravels the mystery of edward and the cullens, she gets closer to the danger. it's much faster paced than the book was, and it makes the whole story better for it, in my opinion.

402 notes - Posted January 14, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[batmanlovesnirvana]

Chapter four | sharp objects.

masterlist

universe : reeves, the Batman 2022

pairing : battinson x fem!OC

words : 10k

authors note : hey guys… new chapter’s up, and it’s definitely one of my favorites. We’ve got The Wraith and Batman in action together for the first time, and Penguin shows up too. I’ve been planning their scene for ages—way before the show—so hopefully, I did him justice. It’s 10k this time, so hope you stick with it, and as always, I’d love to hear what you think !! English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes <3

cw : maryam being stubborn & mean, 18+, thriller, medical procedures, angst, mental health issues, noire, knives, poison, canon-typical violence, POV alternating, gritty, horror, illness, slow burn, action, fluff, mutual pining, forced proximity, crime families, comedy, crime, fighting ect… read at your own risk !

LIKE A SPECTER SUMMONED FROM THE DEPTHS, the Wraith moved as if she had slipped between worlds—too ethereal to belong to this one, too haunting for the next.

Her footsteps, quiet as whispered breath, brushed across the ground as though she drifted from some forgotten realm, and no one had the wisdom to send her back.

Two years.

Two long years since she'd walked in this skin.

Two years since her debt to Fish Mooney was paid in full.

Two years free.

She thought she would never miss it; after all, it was a burden, one that still weighed heavy on her spirit. But old habits—those never die, do they?

And when a goal took root in her mind, not even the weight of those years could stop her.

She was relentless.

It was a familiar kind of hunger—sharp, unforgiving, like a blade in the dark. Maryam had learned long ago that once she set her sights on something, the world could burn for all she cared. She'd still find her way through the ashes.

Two years away from the Wraith's skin hadn't dulled her instincts, nor had they quieted the ghost that lived inside her.

It lingered, always just beneath the surface, waiting for a reason to crawl back out. Perhaps that was why she walked this path tonight.

The Iceberg Lounge looming before her like a challenge. A whisper from the past, calling her back into the shadows she had tried to leave behind.

She told herself she didn't miss it, that the life she led now, in the daylight, was enough… But here she was, standing at the edge of the old life, ready to slip back into it like a second skin.

The night wrapped around her like an old lover, cold and familiar. Her breath barely fogged the air as she moved, her figure swallowed by the shadows.

There were rules to this game, and she knew them better than most.

Silence.

Stealth.

Precision.

As she crept along the rooftop, the city stretched beneath her, unaware, unbothered. She envied that detachment, but it was never meant for her.

The Wraith had always been Gotham's secret, a ghost story whispered between criminals. Something that walked between worlds, unseen yet feared.

And tonight, once more, she became the ghost.

A silent specter threading through the veins of the city, slipping unnoticed between shadows.

Lovers, drifters, the lost and broken—all submerged in their own worlds—never saw her pass. She was the breeze that stirred their skin, a presence felt but never seen.

The Lounge loomed ahead, its neon sign casting an eerie glow over the streets.

Adjusting the bag on her back, she made her way up the rusted fire escape beside the lounge, metal groaning softly beneath her weight.

At the top, she paused for a breath, the familiar routine tugging at her—how many times had she prepared this way? Dressed in club clothes, tools at the ready, slipping through the throngs of party-goers to blend in.

A girl out for a night of fun, hiding in plain sight.

She rummaged in her bag, pulling out her ropes and goggles. Scanning the building, she studied her options.

Most of the windows were now barred—Falcone and Oz had upped their defenses.

She smirked. As if that would stop her.

The route she'd need to take was her least favorite—the top floor, where clients and their hired companions conducted their business.

Seedy and exposed, but it would have to do. Her usual entry point near Oz's office was swarming with guards, playing cards and laughing like they had no care in the world.

The wraith had no intention of drawing attention. This was meant to be a surprise visit, after all.

She sighed.

Maryam slid the goggles back into her bag and stashed it in a hidden, secure spot.

With precise, deliberate movements, she tightened the scarves around her head, fingers deftly adjusting the pins to keep them in place.

A stray strand of caramel hair slipped free, and she tucked it back with the ease of muscle memory, as natural as breathing.

Then she carefully adjusted the scarf covering the lower half of her face. The fabric draped smoothly, leaving only her onyx eyes visible—framed by dark kohl, they were like shadows within shadows.

Gone was Dr. Maryam Halimi.

The Wraith had returned.

And may her enemies be wise enough to fear her, or foolish enough to meet her.

She took a deep breath through the black fabric as she tied the ropes around her right hip. Flexing her fingers, the sound of cracking bones echoed softly in the still air.

With a single, practiced motion, she launched herself from the rooftop, leaping across the gap between the buildings, landing on the Iceberg Lounge's rooftop like a whisper—a shadow without sound.

Maryam followed her routine, lifting a small window and slipping through it with the ease of smoke curling through a crack. She closed it behind her, sealing herself in.

Inside was a small room where strippers entertained their clients, the decor unchanged from her many visits: the walls were painted a garish pink, draped with sheer curtains that fluttered like anxious butterflies.

The air was heavy with the scent of cheap perfume mixed with the lingering aroma of smoke and something sweet—a sickly, intoxicating blend that clung to everything.

The muffled bass of club music thumped through the walls, a rhythmic thump that resonated in her chest, but she had no time to lose.

With careful movements, she opened the door just enough to peek out.

From the hallway, she caught snippets of a tired, grumbling argument between a man and his wife, the voice unmistakably belonging to Tony, the guard on this floor.

"Tony, I told you not to work these late shifts," his wife's voice crackled through the speaker of his phone. "You're barely home, and when you are, you're too exhausted to even talk."

"I know, I know," Tony replied, sounding worn out. "But we need the extra money. The boss is pushing us hard these days. Just give me a break, alright?"

The conversation trailed off as Tony's frustration gave way to resigned silence.

Maryam took her chance.

The hallway stretched out before her, long and dimly lit, turning left toward the stairs she needed to reach.

She had to be quick.

Slipping into the hallway, she moved silently past the many doors that led to rooms just like the one she had left behind.

Her heart raced, the thrill of the chase fueling her movements.

She couldn't linger; she needed to find the stairs leading down, to where the true business of the Iceberg Lounge thrived.

Her light feet carried her through the hallway, the muffled conversation growing louder, when suddenly a loud crash echoed from one of the rooms, followed by a throaty moan.

Her neck snapped toward the sound, eyes narrowing, heart quickening as more banging reverberated against the wall, punctuated by gasps and praises that were far too enthusiastic for her taste.

She rolled her eyes, annoyance bubbling beneath her calm exterior.

The chair where Tony sat at the end of the hallway screeched as he shifted, clearly hearing the commotion too.

Thinking quickly, she scanned the area for a shadowed spot and slipped into it, her body melding with the darkness.

"For fuck's sake," Tony muttered, his phone clutched tightly in his hand as he turned down the hallway.

Seizing the opportunity, Maryam slipped behind him, inching backward toward the exit of the corridor.

"Any damage should be paid extra," he said, knocking on the wall to emphasize his point. His complaint was met only with a high, desperate moan.

Arriving at the stairs, she descended quickly, confident that blending in wouldn't be a problem. Reaching the stairs, Maryam quickly descended, her presence lost in the dimness. The space was illuminated only by sporadic bursts of colored lights that flickered and danced.

No one paid her any mind; she was just another shadow in a sea of bodies, slipping between them like a whisper in the night.

She climbed a few stairs leading to the makeup rooms, the air thick with the scent of hairspray and cheap perfume. She knew the Penguin would be nearby, and her resolve steeled.

Silently, Maryam opened the glass door, slipping into the room where Penguin was engrossed in a phone call.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he muttered, distracted, his fingers playing with a stack of papers.

The purple hue of his outfit was illuminated by the sporadic lights from the club below, casting an eerie glow around him.

Maryam took up a position in the dark corner, waiting patiently for him to finish his call. But as the seconds ticked by, her patience wore thin. Stepping forward, she emerged from the shadows.

"Holy fucking shit—" Penguin yelped, instinctively reaching for his revolver and firing a shot toward the unexpected intruder.

But the wraith dodged it with practiced ease, her movement fluid and precise.

"One day, you're gonna give me a heart attack, woman," Penguin grumbled, his irritation clear as he caught his breath. His large stomach heaved with each breath, the buttons of his purple suit straining against the tension.

Maryam remained silent, as she always did during these encounters. Words were unnecessary. She had long learned that silence was her best ally in these moments. She never spoke unless absolutely necessary, and even then, her words were either written or whispered—always cautious to avoid revealing her identity, even if her presence wasn't widely known in Gotham.

She simply fixed her gaze on him, standing still and composed, a shadow in the dimly lit room. Her eyes were unblinking, focused on Penguin as he fidgeted with the papers, clearly unnerved but too accustomed to her presence to let it show.

Oz looked her over, his eyes narrowing as he muttered a quiet, "What the fuck."

He took a slow sip of his whiskey, his eyes never leaving her. "You never change, do you? Always sneaking up on people."

Maryam remained mute, her silence a familiar companion.

He studied her, still clad in her black outfit, the scarf wrapped around her head, her onyx eyes like deep voids, devoid of emotion. She looked like a ghost, a wraith haunting the edges of his consciousness.

"Jesus, it's been a while, huh?" he continued, chuckling as his demeanor shifted, emotions flickering like the hands of a clock. "What do I owe the pleasure of my favorite gal’ ?" His smile revealed yellowed teeth as he stood up, wobbling toward her.

Still, she offered no answer.

Oz was accustomed to her silence, but that didn't stop him from prodding. His scarred, pockmarked face inched closer, curiosity glimmering in his eyes. Unfazed, she kept her hands behind her back, as if challenging him to draw nearer.

Suddenly, the office door burst open, and a young man rushed in. "Oz, you alright?" he panted, short of breath. Maryam noted the gun in his hand and another holstered beneath his leather jacket. "I heard the shot, and the girls—"

He halted mid-sentence, eyes widening as he took in Maryam's petite frame, dressed in black, hands behind her like a soldier at attention.

"Who the fuck is this, Oz—" he demanded, pointing his gun at her.

Before he could finish, Maryam flicked her wrist, sending a small knife spiraling through the air. It found its mark in his hand, causing the gun to clatter to the ground as he clutched his injury, pain etched on his face. "Shit!" he gasped, stumbling back.

Maryam didn't spare him a glance as she walked past him, retrieving her knife from the wall where it had embedded itself.

She inspected it under the blue and red lights, a meticulous examination as if the blade were more valuable than the man writhing on the floor, which, if she were being honest, it very much was.

Vincent shot up, grasping his other gun with a shaky hand. "Fucking bitch!" he spat, but Maryam only regarded him from her shadowed corner, the pink and purple lights playing across her frame. She raised an eyebrow, her expression unfazed as she calmly wiped his blood from her knife onto her black pants.

Before Vincent could close the distance, Oz seized him by his thin arm, yanking him back with surprising force. The Penguin leaned in, his scarred face inches from Vincent's. "Are you fucking mad?"

Vincent furrowed his brows, confusion clouding his expression. "Mad about what?"

Oz laughed, pushing him away. His gold teeth glinted under the harsh lights. "Ah, come on now! Don't tell me you've never heard of the Wraith, Vince?"

Vincent narrowed his eyes, his face paling as the realization set in. "W-What? I thought it was a myth. You don't mean—"

"She's as real as the last time you forgot to floss," Oz quipped, chuckling at his own joke.

"What the fuck?" Vincent could only manage a stunned whisper, his grip on the gun loosening.

Oz tutted impatiently, his patience wearing thin. "Yeah, yeah, get the fuck out. I need to take care of our lovely guest, will ya?"

The young man hesitated, still gnawing on the gravity of the situation. "Out now, boy! You're putting blood everywhere on my fucking floor!" Oz roared, his mood swinging like a pendulum.

Vincent nodded, his eyebrows knitted together in worry. He watched Maryam as if she were some kind of specter, his left hand gripping his right in an instinctive gesture of self-preservation. With slow, deliberate steps, he backed away, locking the door behind him as if fearful she might strike at any moment.

Oz sighed, a small, self-satisfied smile stretching across his lips, which only accentuated his scars and double chin.

He raised his hands, adorned with an array of golden rings, and gestured grandly, as if he owned the room. "Those newbies, you know them," he said, strolling back to his sofa and spreading his arms wide, claiming dominion over the space.

"So," he clicked his tongue, "how did you get past my guards?"

Only then did she allow her voice to emerge, smooth yet laced with a deadly edge. "You call those guards?" she whispered, her words as sharp as the knives and poisons hidden beneath her long black vest.

Oz raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Yah killed them?"

"Didn't bother." She shrugged, her tone casual as she turned her gaze to the dance floor visible through the high office windows, feigning disinterest. Maryam never killed. "There was only one man, anyway."

"We barred all the windows—" Oz began, but the Wraith simply looked back at him with a mocking expression, as if to say, Really?

"Right," he groaned, pushing himself up from the sofa and grabbing the bottle of alcohol from the table, pouring it down his throat. He grimaced at the taste but welcomed the burn. "Forgot you were the Wraith for a sec," he admitted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "It's not bars that are gonna stop you."

He leaned back, regarding her through the rim of his crystal glass, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "So, what brings you here tonight? A little stroll down memory lane, or is there something else you need from me?"

She remained silent, her eyes narrowed beneath the layers of fabric that concealed her face, the silence stretching between them like a taut wire.

"Come on, don't be coy with me," he prodded, smirking. "You didn't just sneak in here to reminisce about the good old days."

Finally, she shifted, her voice a whisper that seemed to slice through the air. "I need to go to the 44 Below."

"What's got you wanting to visit the 44 Below after all this time?" Oz asked, skepticism coloring his tone.

"Is that really a concern for you, Oz?" she replied, her tone cool and dismissive. "I have my reasons."

His eyes flickered with suspicion. "Two years. It's been two fucking years since I last saw you and since that bat has started flapping around, I can't say I'm eager to let you waltz into danger."

"It's none of your business," she shot back, her voice a sharp whisper, steel beneath the silk. "Just give me what I want, and I'll be on my way. After everything I've done for you, you owe me this."

Oz paused, weighing her words. "You think I'd just hand you a pass to the 44 Below? Not a chance without knowing your intentions."

Her eyes flashed with impatience, the dark kohl accentuating their intensity. "You think I'm going there to start a war? I have no interest in your petty games. Just let me through, and I'll owe you nothing more."

He chuckled, the sound low and grating like gravel. "You know I can't just do that. It's a dangerous game out there, and you might just find yourself caught in it again. You know how the tides shift in Gotham."

"Then consider this a favor for old times," she pressed, her voice steady. "I'm asking you nicely, Oz. You know I don't ask for much."

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he mulled it over, a reluctant concession creeping into his expression. "Fine, I'll give you one for the week only," he conceded reluctantly. "But I'll warn you—"

"Just a week?" she asked, feigning innocence, though she knew it was a gift coming from him.

"That's all you're getting, and I'm not going to give you the usual backdoor route," he warned, leaning forward with a glint of seriousness in his eyes. "And if you think you can waltz in there without trouble, you're mistaken."

Before she could respond, a cacophony erupted from the streets below, the unmistakable sounds of chaos—shouts, gunfire, and the sharp crack of fists meeting flesh.

"What the hell is that?" Oz exclaimed, rising from his seat to peer out the window.

Vincent burst into the office, breathless and wide-eyed, his hand wrapped in gauze, blood seeping through. "Oz! There's a fight breaking out down there!"

Oz turned, his mood shifting rapidly. "Well who the fuck is it?"

"Vengeance." Vincent replied, glancing nervously toward the door.

"Jesus," Oz grumbled. "Of course he is," still watching the melee unfold. "I'm coming." He glanced back at Vincent, who hesitated, his fear still palpable but masked by embarrassment from their earlier encounter.

"What do we do with that one?" Vincent asked, nodding toward the Wraith.

"Let her be." He turned to Vincent, his tone shifting to authority. "Go help the others down there. I'll deal with this mess."

Vincent nodded and rushed out, but as Oz turned back to give a last instruction to the Wraith, he found the space empty.

A frown creased his brow. "Didn't fucking change at all, did she?" he muttered, adjusting his vest with a resigned sigh before heading out to confront the chaos unfolding below.

Once inside the lift, she slid the card given to her and descended into the depths of the 44 Below. The moment the doors slid open, she was hit by the oppressive atmosphere—a different kind of darkness.

The scent of expensive perfume mingled with the acrid tang of drugs, far stronger here than in the lounge above. The people who frequented this level were of a different breed: DAs, senators, police chiefs, CEOs—people who ran Gotham, or at least thought they did.

If anyone still denied the city's deep-rooted corruption, they were either naive or willfully blind. Here, power was brokered in whispers, and deals were sealed with blood and blackmail.

She melted into the shadows, her presence invisible, her steps soundless, as she scoured the club for her target: Vittorio Falcone.

Here he sat in the VIP section, flanked by friends, his posture one of effortless control, like a king surveying his court.

The dim, hazy light of the club brushed against his features, casting shadows that only enhanced the sharpness of his jawline, the sculpted edge of his cheekbones.

The eldest Falcone child carried an air of quiet arrogance, as though the world existed merely to entertain him.

He looked haughty—no, more than that—untouchable, as though nothing in the room could touch him, no matter how close the chaos came.

His attention was half-hearted, eyes lazily fixed on his phone as he typed a message, one hand draped over the back of the sofa. He didn't bother acknowledging the people around him, not even the girls clinging to his side like decorative ornaments.

They tried, though—leaning in, offering coy smiles and whispered words, seeking his attention as if his gaze would bless them. But Vitto barely glanced their way. It was as if their presence didn't even register, their efforts met with nothing more than a vague flicker of disinterest.

He was handsome, painfully so—his features the kind that would make Alma lose her sense of reality the second she laid eyes on him. Maryam could already picture it.

Vittorio's shirt was unbuttoned just enough to reveal a sliver of his tanned, muscular chest beneath, his black hair tousled with calculated perfection. His dark, brooding eyes—so black they almost blended into the shadows—remained fixed on his screen, detached, as if he held the world in the palm of his hand and it bored him. Alma would've melted at the sight, no question.

But Maryam? She saw through it. Vittorio's charm was as practiced as it was dangerous.

The thing is, he wasn't just another spoiled Falcone heir; he was dangerous—a man who wrapped his power in charisma and good looks, the kind of man who knew exactly what his charm was worth. But beneath that smooth exterior lurked something darker.

He could talk all he wanted about going legitimate, but Maryam knew better. There was no such thing as a clean exit from that life.

The truth was simple—once you were tangled in the underworld's web, it clung to you like a spider's silk. No matter how hard you tried to break free, it held you fast, pulling tighter with every step you took. And if you were born into it? You weren't just ensnared—you were the spider, part of the web itself, bound to the darkness in ways you couldn't unravel.

Finally, Vittorio stood, his movements unhurried, as if time bent to his will.

He straightened his jacket, smoothing out invisible wrinkles with the grace of someone accustomed to control. Without a word, he tossed a wad of cash on the table, as if the bill were an afterthought, downed the last of his scotch in one gulp, and gave a casual nod to his friends. They barely noticed, too engrossed in the haze of alcohol and the company of women to care.

Vitto, though, had a different agenda.

His movements were fluid, calculated, as he navigated the crowd, his focus distant, already elsewhere. He headed for the lift, slipping through the throng like a shadow, unseen but always present.

Maryam watched him, her pulse steady but her mind racing. She needed proof—something solid, something that would shatter the illusion Alma had wrapped around this man.

Vittorio Falcone was a dangerous game, and Alma was too blind to see it.

Just being in the 44 Below was damning enough, but he could easily spin that to his advantage, charm his way out of it with some half-truth or excuse that Alma would eagerly swallow. No, it wasn't enough.

And the truth gnawed at her.

He wasn't fawning over other women or indulging in the usual vices like his friends. No, Vittorio looked almost... detached. As though he didn't want to be there, like something or someone had forced him into this.

That unease made her hesitate.

For a second, she wondered if Alma had seen something in him that no one else had. But hesitation was a luxury she couldn't afford.

Plan B it was: direct confrontation.

It wasn't her usual style—Maryam preferred her threats whispered in shadows, subtle and laced with dread, the kind that clung to your mind long after you realized the danger. She liked to move silently, let her reputation speak for her. But for Alma? For her little sister, for her family, she'd abandon her carefully crafted distance and take this head-on.

Vittorio Falcone would understand one thing by the end of tonight: Alma Halimi was off-limits.

She followed at a distance, never once breaking from the shadows, a ghost in the crowded underbelly of Gotham.

Maryam's eyes tracked the two men flanking Vittorio: Matteo Sudossi and Raffael Giulia. Each a mountain of muscle, hardened by years of loyalty to the Falcone family.

Matteo, with his missing eye, bore the scars of a life spent in violence, while Raffael's neck was a roadmap of burns, a permanent reminder of some past battle.

Both armed, their jackets concealing guns, though Maryam's practiced eye caught the glint of a blade tucked in Raffael's boot.

These weren't just hired thugs; they were trusted, handpicked by Carmine Falcone himself, brought over from Sicily when Vittorio was still a boy. They had been at his side ever since.

The sea of people parted for Vittorio as he marched forward, as if sensing his power without needing to look. He moved like a shark gliding through dark waters, and Maryam was the shadow trailing silently in his wake—an unseen predator stalking her prey.

His long, heavy grey coat swung behind him, the fabric billowing like a cape. He placed his signature flat cap atop his head, the brim casting his already dark eyes into deeper shadow.

With deliberate slowness, he brought a cigar to his lips, his teeth sinking into the nicotine like a predator tasting blood, before lighting it with the flick of a silver lighter.

As he slipped on a pair of black leather gloves, the soft creak of the material tightening around his fists was the only sound that cut through the pulse of the club's music.

Vittorio moved through the 44 Below like a king among pawns.

People greeted him with nods, half-hearted words of respect, but he only acknowledged them with slight tilts of his head, his focus elsewhere.

He carried himself with the weight of someone used to commanding attention without asking for it—without needing to. As he approached the lift, he muttered something in Italian, directing his words toward Raffael, his trusted bodyguard. His voice, thick and broken as if worn down by years of smoke, had a strange sweetness to it, like honey laced with poison.

Maryam caught one word: Alberto.

His younger brother. Middle child.

The family's resident drunk, notorious for disappearing into bottles and women, much like any other spoiled Gotham heir. It was the sort of debauchery that came with wealth, with old money, but Vittorio, ever the dutiful older brother, always seemed to keep an eye on his wayward siblings, even in the midst of all their inherited sins.

Maryam's instincts sharpened—Vittorio must have sent Raffael to fetch the younger Falcone from wherever he'd passed out. She watched as Raffael nodded and peeled away, leaving Vittorio with only one bodyguard.

Vittorio pulled out his phone, pressing it tightly to his ear to muffle the pounding noise of the club. He was distracted.

Perfect.

Maryam’s gaze shifted to the hallway beside the elevator—dark, nearly forgotten, with dim lights casting deep, stretching shadows. It was an ideal spot for her. The air hung thick with tension, every muscle in her body coiled, ready to strike.

He was so close. So unaware.

Vittorio, for all his power and poise, had no idea that the Wraith stalked him from the edges of the room, silent, calculating.

The crowd was oblivious, too. Everyone around them lost in their own worlds—dancing, drinking, laughing. They were too entranced by the haze of the club, too blinded by the lights to notice that something far deadlier was lurking just beyond the edges of their peripheral vision.

Maryam seized her chance with the precision of a shadow slipping through moonlight.

The crowd around her pulsed with life, but she was an unmoving force, a whisper of death in the cacophony.

With a swift, practiced motion, she drew a small vial of poison from her suit—a single pill that held the power to incapacitate. Matteo Sudossi, Vittorio's remaining bodyguard, was her target. The brute's size and strength were irrelevant against her skill.

She approached him from behind, as silent as the night air.

Her gloved hand pressed firmly over his mouth, a sudden and forceful motion that stifled any cry of surprise. At the same time, her other hand slipped under his chin, fingers pressing against his carotid artery with expert pressure, cutting off the flow of blood with ruthless efficiency.

Matteo's struggle was brief and futile, his body going limp under her grip. The pill dissolved quickly, ensuring his unconsciousness was assured.

The commotion around Vittorio masked the faint sounds of Matteo's collapse. The noise of the club, the chatter, the clinking of glasses—all combined into a roaring tide that covered her actions.

The heir remained absorbed in his phone call, oblivious to the danger encroaching upon him.

It was only when he heard the thud of Matteo hitting the ground that he turned. His eyes widened in shock, meeting the spectral figure of the Wraith.

In that moment, Maryam was no longer just a woman—she was an apparition, a ghost emerging from the shadows.

Before Vittorio could react, Maryam was upon him. Her elbow struck with the force of a falling star, connecting sharply with his side. He staggered, momentarily stunned. Her other hand grabbed his arm, pulling him forcefully toward the small chamber she had noticed earlier.

The surprise in Vittorio's eyes quickly hardened into anger and disbelief. But Maryam was relentless, her movements swift and decisive.

She dragged him into a room, leaving Matteo's unconscious form slumped against the wall, an unspoken warning of the danger that had just passed.

He didn't resist her at all; one hand pressed against his bloody nose, he allowed her to lead him wherever she pleased.

Once inside the room, she kicked the door shut behind them, her boot slamming it with a resounding thud.

She turned to face him, her gaze steely, and quickly drew one of her sharpest knives from its sheath.

The room was cloaked in darkness, devoid of windows, with only the flickering light casting eerie shadows across the walls.

He leaned casually against the desk, as if he hadn’t just been taken hostage by a mad ghost, but she noticed the tense flex of his sharp jaw. With a steady hand, he pulled a handkerchief from inside his coat and pressed it to his bleeding nose, his dark eyes shadowed beneath the brim of his flat cap.

He didn't waste a moment. "Did you kill him?" His voice was smooth, almost honeyed.

"I don't kill," she replied quietly, stepping closer to him. "Turn." He complied, allowing the bloodied handkerchief to drop to the floor.

She pressed her blade against the junctures of his shoulders, the cold steel biting into his skin, and another knife hovered near his ribs.

"Who sent you?" he rumbled, his tone calm, as if he were accustomed to being confronted by spies. He was probing for information.

"I'm the one asking questions," the Wraith shot back, her posture guarded and unyielding.

"You're lucky I don't hit women," he replied, the hint of a smirk dancing on his lips despite the precarious situation.

Maryam leaned in, her eyes narrowing. "Lucky? Is that supposed to make me feel better? You think chivalry will save you now?"

He raised an eyebrow, the smirk still lingering. "Chivalry? No, that's not it. It's just common decency, something that seems to be lost on people like you."

"People like me?" She pressed the blade a little harder, just enough for him to feel the threat. "What do you know about people like me, Vittorio? You're just another spoiled heir playing with fire, surrounded by sycophants and deception."

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and disarming. "And yet here you are, risking it all. You must be desperate."

"Desperate enough to expose you," she shot back, her voice cold. "Alma Halimi is not a pawn in your little game. You'll leave her alone."

His expression shifted, the playful demeanor fading into something darker. "You have no right to tell me what to do with my life or the people in it."

Maryam stepped closer, her voice low and steady. "Is that right? Then let's talk about your life, Vittorio. You think you can drag her into your world, use her like the others? She deserves better than to be just another trophy for you to flaunt."

His eyes flashed with anger, a storm brewing behind them. "How do you know her name?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

"That's not important," she replied, holding her ground. "What matters is that you stop whatever it is you're doing with her. You might think you're untouchable, but remember, everything comes with a price."

"Spare me your moral high ground," he said, his calm facade cracking just slightly. "Alma came to me. She made her choice. You don't know what we have."

"Exactly," she countered. "I don't know what you have because you keep her in the dark, wrapped up in your lies. If you truly care for her, you wouldn't lead her down this path."

With a quick motion, she withdrew the small gun he had tucked in his trousers, slipping the knife into her pocket.

She stepped back, allowing him to turn around, only for him to find himself staring down the barrel of his own weapon. He was still bleeding from his nose, slightly crooked from her punch.

Leaning back on the table, his hands—heavy with rings—grasped tightly as if seeking stability.

"I'll repeat myself Wraith," he said, his voice low and dangerous. He paused, his black eyes locking onto her onyx contacts, his jaw tightening. "Who sent you?"

She wasn't shocked by his tone.

Gone was the smirk, replaced by a chilling intensity. Glancing at her watch, she replied coolly, "Only one minute and thirty-six seconds until your little bodyguard wakes up." She heard Raffael's distant voice calling for Matteo. "Or less."

Vittorio's gaze darkened further, frustration mingling with uncertainty. "What do you want?" he growled, the edge of his bravado wavering.

"I want the truth," she said, her voice low but unwavering. "I want you to understand what you're doing to Alma. You might think you're invincible, but you're just a man hiding behind a facade. You can't keep dragging her into your world of shadows and lies."

His expression faltered, the intensity in his eyes shifting. "You think I'm some monster?" he asked, his voice suddenly softer, almost vulnerable.

"No," she replied, her tone cold and deliberate. "I think you're tangled in a web of your own making, Vittorio. But you still have a chance to untangle yourself. Let. her. go."

Vittorio's face hardened as he crossed his arms, his heavy coat stretching over broad shoulders. "Let me tell you something, Wraith," he said, his voice clipped. "You think I'm afraid of you, of your little games, or of your so-called reputation?" He tutted dismissively.

"You're just another player meddling with things you don't understand, just like the latest vigilante mucking up my plans. You're encroaching on my territory." He straightened up from his previous leaning position. "But since you've been in this game longer than the latest freak show, I figured you might have some wisdom. Rule number one? Don't interfere with the Falcones."

Maryam smirked under scarves, her eyes glinting. "Oh, I know all about playing with fire. It's just a shame you're too busy keeping your head in the sand to notice how close the flames are getting."

His face remained impassive, unyielding. "Whatever happens between Alma and me is our business. You better pass along this message to whoever sent you: if they send anyone after me or her again, or even dare to utter her name," he slammed his fist against the table, the sound echoing in the room. "I won't show any mercy. I'll hunt you down and I will find out who sent you and make sure you wish you were dead."

The room fell into a heavy silence, his words hanging in the air. Raffael's voice grew louder, a reminder of the impending danger.

But Maryam stood her ground, her resolve unwavering.

"Every choice comes with a consequence," she whispered, her voice cutting through the tension. "You think you can play with lives and not face the fallout? Alma deserves more than being just another pawn. She's not a trophy for you to claim. You know that. And deep down, you know this isn't just another game."

Vittorio's eyes flickered, something resembling doubt crossing his face. "What if she doesn't want to be saved?" he asked, a defensive edge creeping into his voice.

"Then you give her the freedom to choose," she shot back. "But right now, you're controlling her, suffocating her under the weight of your world. Is that what you really want?"

His jaw clenched, the storm inside him brewing. "And if I refuse?"

"Then you'll have to face the consequences of your choices, not just for yourself, but for Alma," she said, holding her ground. "You're not as untouchable as you think, Vittorio. And I'm not the only one looking out for her."

The room fell silent again, tension thick enough to cut. Vittorio's gaze bore into hers, a battle of wills unfolding as he weighed his options, the echoes of Raffael's footsteps drawing ever closer.

Vittorio's gaze locked onto hers, a battle of wills unfolding as he weighed his options.

He removed his flat cap and ran his fingers through his hair, the golden rings glinting in the dim light of the room, frustration evident in the intensity of his movements. “I’m not using her, I—” But before he could finish, the sound of Raffael’s footsteps intensified, halting just outside the door. A loud bang followed as he demanded entry.

In a split second, Maryam had her gun trained on Vittorio's head, her finger poised on the trigger. The door swung open, and Raffael appeared, flanked by a couple of goons. "Drop your gun!" he ordered.

Maryam unlocked the safety, her eyes never leaving Vittorio. "Move an inch and I'll paint the walls with his brains," she warned.

"I thought you didn't kill—"

"Shut the fuck up," she shot back, a sharp smirk curling her covered lips. "I'm not a killer, but I'm not above making exceptions."

With that, she advanced, dragging Vittorio with her past the guards, who were still fumbling to draw their weapons.

In one swift motion, she shoved him toward them, using his body as a shield before sprinting toward the elevator.

Bullets whizzed past her as she darted through the chaos, adrenaline pumping through her veins.

She reached the lift just as Matteo began to stir from his slumber. Without a second thought, she leaped on top of him, calling the elevator while glancing back to see the guards closing in, their shouts echoing in her ears.

As Maryam stepped into the elevator, a sigh of relief escaped her lips, but it was fleeting. Just as the doors were about to close, Matteo burst in, a whirlwind of fury and muscle.

Without hesitation, he launched a fist toward her, catching her off guard and sending her crashing against the wall. The blow struck the side of her face, near her left eye, and blood began to trickle down her skin and scarf.

For a moment, the world spun around her, but she quickly regained her footing. She was smaller, but she was trained—years of honing her skills in the shadows gave her an edge. With a fierce determination, she bounced back, dodging his next swing and leveraging her agility to slip behind him.

In a blur, she delivered a sharp elbow to his ribs, followed by a swift kick to his knee. He stumbled, but not for long. He turned, eyes blazing with fury, swinging wildly again.

Maryam ducked under his punch, using his momentum against him to grab his arm and twist, forcing him into a hold.

She wasn't just fighting; she was dancing, fluid and precise, each movement calculated.

He snarled and pushed back with all his might, but she was ready. With a quick twist of her body, she transitioned into a grapple, locking his arm behind him before delivering a sharp knee to his gut. The impact echoed through the small space, and Matteo grunted, the wind knocked from him.

"You're strong, but you're not smarter," she taunted, using her smaller stature to her advantage.

The wraith spun around him, and as he turned to grab her, she slipped under his arm and kicked off the wall, using her momentum to launch herself at him.

In one fluid motion, she tackled him, forcing him down onto the elevator floor. With a well-placed knee on his chest, she secured his arm behind him, pinning him with her weight. Matteo struggled, but she had him locked tight. "You're outmatched, musclehead," she hissed, breathing heavily.

Finally, with one last thrust, she knocked him unconscious, leaving him crumpled on the floor of the elevator as the doors dinged open.

She adjusted her scarves and cloak, looking down at him as she whispered, "идиот," the russian word lingering in the air with a soft hiss.

Maryam stepped out of the lift, into the chaos of the club, where the pulsing beat of In the Night by The Weeknd filled the air.

Bodies swayed and twirled around her, blissfully unaware of the fight she had just left behind. She maneuvered through the crowd, blending in with the dancing masses, her heart racing with adrenaline.

The weight of victory hung on her shoulders, and she knew she hadn't crossed the line—Matteo was alive, but the message had been sent.

But the moment she emerged, her presence did not go unnoticed. 

No rest for the wicked, she thought.

A couple of guards, alerted by the commotion, spotted her immediately. Their hands went to their weapons, and they began pushing their way through the crowd, their urgency clear as they shouted commands.

The chaos around them only amplified as the guards started firing into the ceiling, bullets ricocheting and causing a shower of sparks. The crowd screamed and scattered, but Maryam was already in motion.

Her sharp eyes scanned the room, calculating her next move. She darted into the sea of dancing bodies, weaving through the throng with agility and speed. Each step was precise, every movement fluid as she ducked and dodged between the frantic dancers.

She could hear the guards getting closer, their footsteps pounding in rhythm with the beat, their shouts piercing through the music.

Spotting a nearby staircase, she bolted toward it, her heart pounding in her chest. As she neared the stairs, she leaped onto a nearby chair, using it as a launchpad to vault over the edge of a platform. She landed gracefully on a lower level, barely missing a beat. Without hesitation, she sprinted toward a large window set into the wall.

With a deft move, she grabbed onto the window frame and swung herself up, pushing the window open. The noise from the club was deafening, but outside, the air was cool and quiet.

She glanced back just in time to see the guards pushing through the last of the crowd, their frustration evident as they searched for her.

Maryam took a deep breath, then leaped out of the window and dropped down to a lower ledge. She barely felt the impact, rolling with the fall and immediately scrambling to her feet. 

Without a second glance, she sprinted away from the building, the chaos of 44 Below fading behind her as she melted into the shadows of the night.

She'd escaped the immediate threat, but the night was far from over. 

Upstairs, in the dim, cluttered office above the thumping chaos of the club, Oswald Cobblepot, lounged back with a smarmy grin on his face. 

Vengeance stood before him, as still and imposing as a gargoyle, his eyes fixed on the photograph of the young woman with the mayor, her smile haunting in the dim light. And, of course, there was Oswald Cobblepot, conveniently in the background, as if by sheer coincidence.

"Who is she?" Batman's voice was a cold growl, slicing through the smoky air.

The Penguin chuckled, his laugh a mixture of amusement and cunning, as he waved a dismissive hand. "Honestly? I really don't know, chief. I might've been coming out at the same time, but I wasn't exactly rollin' with them." He leaned back, casual, yet there was a glimmer of something else in his eyes—a flicker of knowledge he wasn't willing to share. Not yet.

The silence stretched, tense and heavy, before the Penguin leaned forward, his voice dropping dropping into a low, conspiratorial tone. "But I'll tell you this—she ain't the only one stirring the pot around here. You heard of the Wraith, right?"

Batman's gaze narrowed, his curiosity piqued. "Wraith? Who is she?"

A slow, mischievous smile spread across the Penguin's face, amusement dancing in his sharp eyes. "Ah, the Wraith. Kind of a myth to some, but I'll let you in on a little secret—she's as real as you and me. Haunting these streets long before you put on that cape, my friend. A real ghost. Slippery, stealthy—a nightmare for anyone unlucky enough to cross her."

"What does she want?" Batman asked, his voice filled with quiet intensity.

"That's the big mystery, isn't it?" Penguin leaned in, his voice dripping with amusement, eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief. "She used to be Fish Mooney's little shadow—her eyes and ears all over Gotham. Some folks say she's a myth, a ghost. Others think she's got a score to settle with Falcone and the rest of us. And then there are those who believe she's just carving out her own little empire. But whatever her deal is, one thing's for sure—she's sharp, always two steps ahead. Stays hidden in the dark... kinda like you."

Before Batman could press further, footsteps echoed through the room. A figure appeared between the racks of showgirl costumes—a woman in a high-slit evening gown, streetwise and edgy. She hesitated when she saw Batman, her eyes flickering with caution.

Penguin smirked, motioning her over. "No, no—it's okay, baby. Mr. Vengeance here don't bite," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

The woman approached warily, placing a tray of drinks on the table. But Batman didn't miss the way her eyes flicked to the photograph of the mayor. There was recognition there, something unsaid. As she turned to leave, her unease lingered, but Batman's focus snapped back to the image in his hand, his expression darkening.

"I want to know who she is, and what she has to do with this murder," he demanded, the tension in his voice rising.

Penguin leaned in closer, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Whose murder? Is that the Mayor? Oh, shit, it is! Look at that!" he feigned surprise, laughing under his breath.

Without warning, Batman's gloved hand shot out, yanking the Penguin from his seat and slamming him against the cracked glass of the window. The pane groaned under the pressure, splintering slightly as Batman growled, "Don't make me hurt you."

Anger flared briefly in the Penguin's eyes, but he forced a smile, swallowing down the sudden fear that tightened his throat. "Easy, easy, alright! I'm just a businessman!" he gasped. Then, with a smug grin, he continued, "Yeah, I know her. Do you?"

Batman glared at him but said nothing. The Penguin twisted his lips into a sneer. "I'll tell you one thing," he handed the photograph back to Batman with a flourish. "Whoever she is, she's one hot piece of work. Why don't you ask Mitchell's wife? Maybe she's got the answers you're looking for." He smirked cruelly. "What? Too soon?"

Before Batman could react, the sound of gunfire erupted from outside, muffled but unmistakable. He turned, his attention drawn to the window. Through the cracks in the glass, he saw a figure moving swiftly through the sea of bodies below. The chaos was immediate—patrons scattered as guards shoved their way through the crowd, their guns raised, searching for their target. But the figure, cloaked in shadows, moved with a grace that defied the panic around her.

"That, right there," Penguin's voice broke the silence, his tone dripping with satisfaction, "that's my little Wraith I was talkin' about." He watched with fascination as the woman darted between the terrified dancers, her movements fluid, almost inhuman. "Looks like she's gotten herself into a bit of trouble, huh?"

Batman remained silent, his gaze locked on the scene below. The Wraith was fast—too fast. She climbed a set of stairs, her figure briefly illuminated by the strobing lights of the club, before she leapt through a nearby window, vanishing into the night.

"She hasn't been in the streets for two years," the Penguin mused, his tone growing more serious. "Who knows? Maybe she got scared when you showed up." He glanced back at the Dark Knight, his smirk returning. "Looks like the party's starting without us. You better keep your eyes open, Vengeance. The Wraith doesn't play by your rules."

When Penguin turned back to continue his taunt, he found the room empty, Batman already gone, leaving only a lingering sense of foreboding behind.

"Yep," Penguin muttered to himself, grinning. "Just like her."

The Wraith barely escaped the immediate threat, but the night was far from over. Her body was drenched in fatigue, each muscle aching from the exertion. It was her first night back in years, and she could feel her stamina waning, her reflexes rusty. Her breath came in ragged gasps, but before she could recover, she felt it—a gun barrel pressing against her spine.

"Hands up, Wraith," a voice growled behind her. She could hear the subtle clicks of safeties being disengaged. Five guns, by her estimate, all aimed at her. 

Her chest rose and fell heavily, her heart pounding from the chase and the fight, but she raised her hands slowly behind her head, her face still hidden.

"That's right," sneered another voice, its owner stepping forward with a smug grin. "Our boss wants you alive, so he can decide how to kill you."

Her lips curled into a mocking smile beneath her mask. "No one gets to do that," she said in a low, dangerous tone. "The only question is whether I'll be wasting my prayers tonight after gutting the lot of you."

The goon with the gun barked out a harsh laugh. "Tough talk for someone surrounded. Maybe you should start prayin' now—"

Before he could finish, a low voice rumbled from the shadows, cutting through the tension like a blade. "I'd be more worried about yourself."

The goons tensed, eyes darting around the dimly lit alley.

In the space of a breath, one of them was gone—dragged into the darkness with a muffled grunt. Panic rippled through the group, their weapons jerking toward every sound, every flicker of movement.

"Where is he?" one of them hissed, his voice laced with fear.

The Wraith, still poised with her hands raised, felt a shift in the air. She didn't have to look to know who was hunting them. Maryam slipped a hand to her waist, fingers curling around the hilt of her knives, ready to strike if anyone dared get close. Her eyes scanned the scene, calculating. 

Then she saw him.

He emerged from the shadows like a wraith himself—an imposing figure, cloaked in darkness, his cape billowing like the night itself. His movements were fluid, almost inhuman, as if the shadows bent to his will. 

A silent storm, dismantling the thugs one by one with brutal efficiency. Every punch landed with the force of a thunderclap, every strike deliberate and precise. He moved as if the world around him slowed down, while his enemies flailed helplessly in his wake.

The Wraith was transfixed, her breath catching in her throat. But she had no time to dwell on it.

"Don't let her get away!" one of the remaining goons shouted, rushing toward her with a knife drawn. His steps were clumsy, desperate, and she was ready.

In a blur of motion, she spun toward him, her smaller frame a deceptive advantage. She deflected his blade with the edge of her own, her wrist twisting expertly to disarm him.

The goon stumbled, caught off guard, and in the next heartbeat, she drove her knee into his abdomen, sending him doubling over with a gasp. Without hesitation, she brought her knife to his throat, stopping just short of cutting deep.

He wheezed, clutching his stomach and moaning in pain, but she was already gone—sidestepping his collapse with swift, precise movements, her eyes snapping toward the Dark Knight. Batman finished the last of the attackers with brutal efficiency, his cape swirling as the final thug fell unconscious at his feet.

For a moment, their eyes locked. He could feel the tension radiating from her, and in the brief silence, it was as though the world around them had fallen away, leaving only the two of them standing amidst the wreckage of the fight.

But before he could react, she moved—sprinting toward the nearest wall, where an old iron ladder reached up into the night.

Vengeance's eyes narrowed.

He was quick, but she was faster. 

With fluid grace, she scaled the ladder, her form disappearing toward the rooftops. Yet he was right behind her, a shadow of justice, relentless in his pursuit.

Just as she reached the top, his gloved hand closed around her arm, but the Wraith didn't hesitate. She swung a fist at him, aiming for his face. He caught her wrist mid-air, his reflexes as sharp as ever, but she wasn't done. With a sudden, vicious move, she drove her knee where the sun didn't shine.

Batman grunted in pain, his grip loosening involuntarily as his body recoiled. The Wraith used that moment to slip free, bolting across the rooftops like a spirit, her form darting from shadow to shadow. Behind her, the Bat pursued, relentless, his cape sweeping through the air like dark wings unfurling.

It was a chase worthy of legend—a bat hunting a wraith, two creatures of the night locked in a relentless dance across the skyline of Gotham. 

She was swift, her movements fluid and ghostly, as though the air itself parted for her. 

But he was the storm, powerful and unyielding, closing the distance with each leap, each stride. 

They moved like figures out of myth—Hades hunting Persephone, the hunter and the hunted locked in a dance that had no end.

Just as she thought she'd shaken him, his hand seized her again, pulling her down hard onto the rooftop. She gasped as she hit the ground, and before she could react, he was over her, pinning her arms above her head. His weight pressed down on her, heavy and unyielding, the dark cowl inches from her face.

"Who are you?" Batman's voice was a low growl, barely more than a whisper. His breath came in shallow bursts, his eyes burning with intensity beneath the mask. "Why are you back?"

She glared up at him, her chest rising and falling with each labored breath. "Why do you care, Vengeance?" she spat, her voice dripping with disdain. Her body tensed beneath him, every muscle coiled to strike.

"I don't care about your vendetta," he said, tightening his grip on her wrists. "But you've been off the streets for years. You don't just come back without a reason."

The Wraith let out a humorless laugh, her eyes flashing beneath her hood. "You think I owe you an explanation?" she hissed. "You're no different than the scum I fight. You think you're saving Gotham, but all you do is create more chaos."

He didn't flinch, though her words cut deeper than any blade. Before he could muster a reply, she struck with brutal precision—a sharp, sudden headbutt that caught him completely off guard. The impact was swift and vicious, but she wasn't done. As he recoiled, her fist followed through with a fierce punch to his jaw, the crack of knuckles against bone echoing in the still night.

Blood spattered from his mouth, painting the rooftop. 

The blow sent a shockwave of pain through his skull, and for a split second, his vision blurred. His grip slackened, just enough for her to wrench her arms free. In a flash, she flipped them, her body moving with the grace of a dancer, and now she was on top of him, pinning him to the cold stone of the rooftop.

Breathless, Maryam glared down at him, mere inches apart, her hood casting deep shadows that accentuated her fierce gaze. "Stay out of my way, Zorro," she whispered, her tone dark and menacing as she pressed the blade against the unguarded part of his jaw—the sharpest line she had ever seen. Her voice, a chilling promise, danced like a threat carried on the wind. "Or you'll regret it."

They were both frozen for a moment, two predators sizing each other up in the moonlit expanse of Gotham's rooftops. Neither willing to give ground. Neither willing to let go of the chase.

Batman stared up at her, his eyes unreadable behind the mask, though his chest rose and fell heavily beneath her weight. The Wraith's breath was labored, her body tense, but she held him in place, her grip iron-clad.

For a fleeting second, the city seemed to fall into silence around them, as if Gotham itself held its breath in anticipation. The wind whipped through the night, carrying the faint sounds of distant sirens, but here, in this moment, it was only them—two forces of nature locked in a battle neither fully understood.

"You're not going to win," Batman growled from beneath her, his voice rough and commanding. "Whatever you're after, it ends here."

Her lips curled into a half-smirk, eyes glinting with dark amusement as she leaned closer, pressing the blade deeper until a trickle of blood began to seep out. "You think you can stop me?" she whispered, her voice laced with sarcasm. "I don't need to win, ya amar," she added, the Arabic endearment dripping with mockery. "I just do what I want."

She was about to make her move, shifting her weight to prepare for another strike, but Batman was quicker. In an instant, his arm shot out, grabbing her by the waist, and with a powerful twist of his body, he flipped them again. She let out a sharp breath as she hit the rooftop, the force of his movement pinning her once more beneath him.

This time, there was no escape.

"You've made a mistake coming back," Batman said, his voice low and edged with warning. "Fish Mooney isn't the only one watching you."

The Wraith glared up at him, her chest heaving with exertion, the weight of his words pressing as heavily on her as his body. "I don't answer to Mooney anymore," she spat, her voice defiant. "I answer to no one."

"You think Gotham's forgotten you?" Batman pressed, his grip on her wrists tightening again. "They remember. The city never forgets. And neither do I."

The tension between them was thick, the unspoken challenge hanging in the air. For a brief moment, Batman wondered if she could see through him, see the man beneath the mask, as her eyes searched his in the dim light. 

There was something about her, something familiar yet foreign, like a ghost from a past he couldn't place.

She could feel the weight of his gaze, and it unsettled her. "What do you know about me?" she asked, her voice softer, though still laced with bitterness. "You don't know anything."

Batman's jaw clenched beneath his cowl. "I know enough," he replied, his voice a whisper against the night. "You don't belong in the shadows anymore."

Suddenly, she lashed out with her leg, catching him off balance, and in that brief moment of surprise, she slipped free once more. Scrambling to her feet, her body moving with practiced agility, putting distance between them.

"You should stick to punching out poor criminals just trying to make ends meet and feed their families," she said, her voice dripping with disdain as she assessed him with a cold gaze. "You clearly have money," she continued, her onyx eyes sweeping over him with a scornful edge, "You don't know the hard life, and most importantly, you don't know me.." Her tone was icy as she stepped toward the edge of the rooftop, her eyes narrowing with finality. "And you never will."

Before he could react, she turned and sprinted toward the edge, leaping across the gap between buildings with a grace that defied the laws of physics. 

Batman was on his feet in an instant, but she was already disappearing into the night, a fleeting shadow against the backdrop of Gotham's towering skyline.

He stood at the edge of the roof, watching her vanish into the darkness, the city stretching out below them like a living, breathing entity. 

His eyes followed her until she was gone, swallowed by the shadows that seemed to cling to her like a second skin.

A wraith indeed.

For a moment, he stood frozen, the frigid night air seeping through his armor. Her words had clearly struck a nerve, leaving an imprint that lingered in the shadows of his mind. 

With one last glance at the rooftop she had vanished across, he turned and melted into the night, knowing the chase was far from over.

previous chapter (chapter three) | next chapter

идиот : idiot ( Russian )

ya amar : my moon (Arabic )

So yeah, it’s the first time we see The Wraith :) Maryam is a mysterious and complex character, but she becomes more well-known with each passing chapter.

Anyway, for those who haven’t connected the dots, her name is inspired by Inej Ghafa, also known as The Wraith in the Grishaverse.

Don’t hesitate to leave a comment !! <3

[nickmedoroart]

Every year my fiancé and I review what we watched, read, or played over the year. It's our little content catalogue, so I figured why not share some of the best things of 2022 we went though and if any of you are interested to go and check them out! Starting with movies, we watched a ton this year but these are probably my favorite 4 of the year: Everything Everywhere is a super unique movie that stands as my movie of the year. It does everything so well. RRR is a bombastic bollywood movie that depicts the greatest bromance I've ever seen. It's wild from start to finish and my runner up for the year. The Batman stands tall in an over-saturated genre of super hero movies. It has an artistic vision that feels lost in other super hero movies today. The Exorcist isn't new exactly but it's new to me and it really is as timeless as it has been. It's an interesting perspective dealing with the questioning of faith and what it can do to people.

Shows! No shock I watch mostly animated things and these are my top 4 among them: Morel Orel is just...so...difficult to describe. It's pure dark comedy but over the show's lifespan it evolves into a dark, deep character driven show about the roots of desire and sin. That and it has probably one of the most accurate depictions of an alcoholic abuser father I've ever seen. Primal. Pure art. Genndy, known for Samurai Jack and Powerpuff Girls, takes us to a pre-historic world with no voices. The show is carried by visuals and letting you feel every snapping stick in it's environment. While Orel is my show of the year, I can't stress enough how amazing Primal is too. Jojo in general. I finished Part 4, 5, and 6 this year but throughout ALL of Jojo, nothing beats Part 4. The small hometown with a small cast is just candy to me, but add in that strange Jojo sauce and MWAH. Love it. Don't Hug Me I'm Scared the TV show. You remember that web series from like 5 years ago? Well it got a show and it's just as dark and funny as before.

Video Gaming. I usually play the same games over and over so this year I made it my goal to only play new games to me. I did a pretty good job but didn't have as much time to play things as previous years, but here are my top 4: Yu-Gi-Oh. Guys, it's time to come clean. I'm an addict. This year I sunk so much time into yu-gi-oh. The physical game sure, but also Master Duel. This isn't my game of the year but I can't express the games I played this year without talking about my biggest time-sink... Chrono Trigger. It was my first time going through it and man I just love RPGs so much. It's perfect what do you want me to say? You either already know or haven't played it yet. Go play it. It's blows my mind what they were able to do on the SNES because some things in this game are better done here than in games TODAY. HOW!? Kirby and the Forgotten Land is just cute. It's Kirby. It's easy, simple, but sometimes a relaxing game is just as good as a hard as nails one. I just like vibing with Kirb and this is probably his best game in years. Pokemon Arceus was a crazy surprise. I didn't expect to enjoy it as much as I did. Scarlet and Violet just came out and they're good but not as good as Arceus, which is weird, cause Arceus feels like a tech demo for Scarlet and Violet. Either way, this was a great time and throwing balls at monsters never felt as fun as it did here.

And that's my rant for things. Reading? I don't read enough tbh and I want to try to read more this year. I read One Piece like come on. Either way I'll disappear back into the void now and continue to make AND enjoy as much content as I can! Happy New Year!!