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@battymuses
Intro
(Work in Progress) Welcome to my blog! This is a space for Batman related characters, as well as Batman/Gotham verses for my other muses. Mun is 30+ and will tag any triggers requested. Muses Miriam- bio/tag/outfits Mary Dahl Melanie- bio/tag
i wanna make it unequivocally clear that there are no time limits when it comes to rping with me. idc if you're scrolling through your drafts and you find a thread of ours from two years ago+ and you wanna continue it... but you're afraid i'll be upset with you bc it's been so long...
babes, i am holding your face so gently when i say this: do the thing. i promise, the only thing i'mma be when i see that notif is excited
Reblog if you RP using Discord
Message me if you’d like my username.
@pinstripe-papa
Your asks aren't open, so I figured I'd contact you out in the open.
You still going to see the doctor for your severe case of no-homo-bro?
-Miriam
Man, I ain't been to the doctor for true since I got that mondo hemorrhoid ripped out in prison.
Big Daddy's the proud n' sparkling paradigm of perfect health.
Did... Did the doctor rip it out or did the prison rip it out???
Well, you know what they say: teamwork makes the dreamwork.
For the no-homo guy, you sure are bad at straight answers.
What? You want I should get more... efflorescent with my description of that procedure?
No. I just wanted to know if a professional did it or some prison inmates did it. Your wording implied something gruesome.
Just the state of having a hemorrhoid is pretty gruesome, man.
But for the record: I did it myself with a medic standing by. Ain't nobody ever said Big Daddy can't take care of himself.
Ouch. That outdoes any Jackass stunt. Respect.
@pinstripe-papa
Your asks aren't open, so I figured I'd contact you out in the open.
You still going to see the doctor for your severe case of no-homo-bro?
-Miriam
Man, I ain't been to the doctor for true since I got that mondo hemorrhoid ripped out in prison.
Big Daddy's the proud n' sparkling paradigm of perfect health.
Did... Did the doctor rip it out or did the prison rip it out???
Well, you know what they say: teamwork makes the dreamwork.
For the no-homo guy, you sure are bad at straight answers.
What? You want I should get more... efflorescent with my description of that procedure?
No. I just wanted to know if a professional did it or some prison inmates did it. Your wording implied something gruesome.
@pinstripe-papa
Your asks aren't open, so I figured I'd contact you out in the open.
You still going to see the doctor for your severe case of no-homo-bro?
-Miriam
Man, I ain't been to the doctor for true since I got that mondo hemorrhoid ripped out in prison.
Big Daddy's the proud n' sparkling paradigm of perfect health.
Did... Did the doctor rip it out or did the prison rip it out???
Well, you know what they say: teamwork makes the dreamwork.
For the no-homo guy, you sure are bad at straight answers.
@pinstripe-papa
Your asks aren't open, so I figured I'd contact you out in the open.
You still going to see the doctor for your severe case of no-homo-bro?
-Miriam
Man, I ain't been to the doctor for true since I got that mondo hemorrhoid ripped out in prison.
Big Daddy's the proud n' sparkling paradigm of perfect health.
Did... Did the doctor rip it out or did the prison rip it out???
@pinstripe-papa
Your asks aren't open, so I figured I'd contact you out in the open.
You still going to see the doctor for your severe case of no-homo-bro?
-Miriam
I just imagined Miriam being made uneasy by Harley Quinn. Not because she's dangerous, but because she's a therapist.
By The Neck
Continued from here.
While Viktor was easily visible by the street lamp, Miriam had since leapt back into the darkness nearby.
A passing car soon illuminated her visage, however, and made it clear that something inside her had snapped.
She was smiling painfully wide, a toothy grin that rivaled the Joker's, while the glare moving across her glasses revealed crazed eyes.
One might think her a victim of the clown prince of crime, but she has simply succumbed to good old-fashioned stress.
She'd been on high alert since Viktor had attacked her and the visits with Mary Dahl, acclimating to a new job, the berating of her irate mother, the worried calls of her father, and the high intensity training she'd been going through weren't helping things.
The straw that broke the camel's back was learning of the killer's escape.
Was she supposed to wait for them to attack her so she could fight for her life?
What if she wasn't alert at the time?
What if they attacked her father first as revenge?
What if they went after Mary?
She couldn't allow that.
No. She decided to go after Viktor herself.
Piss Viktor off with the collar she'd had made as a gag and wait for them to lash out at her. Labeling it self defense should help her get away with their murder.
Though it seemed they were giving her a chance. Yeah, right.
She laughed through her teeth before uttering a simple, "Make me."
@sanguine-salvation
It had taken days of manhandling, injections, padded rooms, doctors, and forced pills for Mary to properly reach lucidity.
She didn't even want to break the fantasy in the first place. While she'd lost Killer Croc, Baby Doll was still better than Mary Dahl.
Baby Doll was loved and adored with a wonderful family and fans all over the world.
Mary Dahl was all alone.
But she didn't have much choice now. She was back on medication and Baby Doll just wasn't Baby Doll without Mr. Happy Head or her curls or hired muscle.
She was just Mary now... even if she did have Baby Doll in the back of her mind in case she was ever needed. Mary Dahl wasn't particularly threatening, but Baby Doll had a reputation.
In a place like Arkham Asylum, you needed a reputation.
On the topic of reputations, it would seem one inmate got one they weren't fond of... and it wasn't Mary's.
Miriam's Bitch. That was Viktor Zsasz' new moniker.
While others found it humorous, Mary found it curious.
Miriam was not a common name and she'd only ever known one person with it.
Could it be her?
Mary approached the psychotic killer, doing her best to maintain some facade of courage.
"So," Mary began with her natural voice, looking at her nails and casually tucking a length of uncurled hair behind her ear, "this Miriam that made you her bitch... Did she have red hair? Maybe some big round glasses?"
@sanguine-salvation
Viktor was in no mood.
In fact, they rarely were of late! They hadn't been in a good mood since they were apprehended, but it wasn't just anger. Oh, there was anger, but in a way they almost seemed more morose lately, wistful even. The one who got away. A mark left uncarved.
Except their own.
Someone had the utter lack of sense to bring up their souvenir. It still itched under the bandages, thought it was set to heal well enough. The woman had meant to give an irritating reminder, a message, but whether it was a lack of commitment or a very purposeful warning that kept it from being more permanent than it'd be, they couldn't guess.
They were admittedly only half-conscious at the time. And concussed. And straddled like a horse.
Still, their new moniker had earned a few fellow inmates some fun new scars of their own, and at least one major hospitalization, and had put Viktor back in the heavy collar and restraints. Though, they had managed to behave just long enough, and their doctors had asked enough because of their floundering therapy, for them to be allowed into general population again. Under heavy watch.
It was likely like approaching a dragon, perched in the corner and already sneering when they saw Mary slowly approaching.
The assigned guard seemed uninterested in the exchange, only glancing at Mary with a tepid 'don't get too close' kind of look before looking back at the newspaper. But Vitkor, oh Viktor, they were locked on Mary, their turning at her causing a soft jingling sound from the immobilizing collar. And at first, there was only a dull pause...
"Ha." Finally, they grinned, but it was less friendly and more like a cobra raising a hood. Yet this was the first time that anyone had so bravely come up to them not with stupid derision, but an actual... question. They scrunched their nose impatiently, but eased enough to look back at their own fingernails, picking at them idly. "... Perhaps. Perhaps not. And why," they raised their lip in a sneer, very very much curious as to how this would go, "does it matter to you, dear, may I ask?"
"Do you always answer a question with a question?" Mary raised a brow, looking thoroughly unimpressed as she craned her neck to meet their eyes. She couldn't afford to be a mouse in the presence of a snake. "Maybe I've dealt with her before." She could very well be a weasel though.
I have been noticing a lot of people being too nervous to talk to their mutuals when they want to roleplay with them soooo..
Please reblog this to tell your mutuals IT IS 100% OKAY to come up to you and tell you straight off the bat that they want to roleplay with you. In fact, it’s highly encouraged to tell you any thread idea that comes across their mind!
It had taken days of manhandling, injections, padded rooms, doctors, and forced pills for Mary to properly reach lucidity.
She didn't even want to break the fantasy in the first place. While she'd lost Killer Croc, Baby Doll was still better than Mary Dahl.
Baby Doll was loved and adored with a wonderful family and fans all over the world.
Mary Dahl was all alone.
But she didn't have much choice now. She was back on medication and Baby Doll just wasn't Baby Doll without Mr. Happy Head or her curls or hired muscle.
She was just Mary now... even if she did have Baby Doll in the back of her mind in case she was ever needed. Mary Dahl wasn't particularly threatening, but Baby Doll had a reputation.
In a place like Arkham Asylum, you needed a reputation.
On the topic of reputations, it would seem one inmate got one they weren't fond of... and it wasn't Mary's.
Miriam's Bitch. That was Viktor Zsasz' new moniker.
While others found it humorous, Mary found it curious.
Miriam was not a common name and she'd only ever known one person with it.
Could it be her?
Mary approached the psychotic killer, doing her best to maintain some facade of courage.
"So," Mary began with her natural voice, looking at her nails and casually tucking a length of uncurled hair behind her ear, "this Miriam that made you her bitch... Did she have red hair? Maybe some big round glasses?"
@sanguine-salvation
(Open Starter for anyone who wants to respond.)
For someone who had to wear glasses, Miriam had the eyes of a hawk. Perhaps it was due to her time as a bodyguard for Baby Doll or simply living in a place as dangerous as Gotham City, but the redhead was always vigilant when out in the open.
Whatever the reason, Miriam noticed that while the light for pedestrian crossing was flashing, a driver was aiming to speed right past it.
Acting quickly, she grabbed the person in front of her trying to cross and yanked them back with a grunt.
I think I'll make a few open starters here and there for my muses on this blog. I don't get a lot of interaction here and I might luck out and get a few takers.
cont. from ( x ) @battymuses
Her voice was like a whimper.
And then a song.
Oh, the sound of giddiness, madness maybe, or just adrenaline? They supposed it didn't matter, it was all an itch in the head. But it sparked something in their chest. Flint to their steel, a burn of both frustration and wild, giddy abandon all knotted together, their impatient look waned slightly, then cracked into a fractured little smile.
One that was just as impatient, but absolutely lusting for blood. This was no longer a hunt, this was a game. Prey driven to it's last instinct? Or was this now a dance between two predators... maybe. Maybe not.
Time to see.
Viktor's lip curled up enough to glint teeth at her as she rattled out in desperation, her voice snapping into something like a giggle, baffling confidence soaking her every word. Oh, they were right, they did like her. It was only a shame that her bark wouldn't match her bite.
"Oh, my dear, I really don't care who you worked for. It doesn't matter. It's all a matter of convenience." Their face softened for a moment as they looked at her. "... You remind me of me. Those last death throes really are unbearable, aren't they? You probably still think you can get out of them. But, either you're lucky enough to die, or your unlucky enough to keep living." Their smile cracked like those fine invisible lines in glass. "Lucky for you, you have me."
Her threat, her last request for their last words, made them throw their head back and laugh far too sharply. "No, yours. Pick your spot if you want, I'll make sure your get the kindness you deserve."
And with that and a snap of their wrist, a wild look in their eyes and blood smeared across bruises, lost to the heady mania of purpose, they threw themself at Miriam, knife out. They saw her readying an attack, they weren't stupid. But what they didn't see through the mess in their head was that Miriam was just as clever as them, and just as sly.
An attack that had looked like it was meant for their wounded shoulder was instead a sharp pain in their head. They only felt the last weight of their blade hit her arm, but their vision and weight teetered in and out of darkness before they could figure out how badly they'd gored her. Or if they had.
The world spun around them, empty and dizzy as their skin burned cold and numb from hitting something. Concrete...? Was that the sky above them? It was all so...? dark...?
Was that her above them? Below them?
In all honesty, Miriam was a bit surprised Viktor fell for her ploy as easily as they did. She'd been expecting them to dodge, to make her swipe at their head over and over again until one finally hit. But, no. One last try was all it took and they were out like a light. Still, she wasn't taking any risks. Stomping on their hand, she searched for the blade and took it for herself. Satisfied that the killer was no longer a threat, Miriam took a few deep calming breaths, grabbed her purse that she had dropped, and sat atop the rogue's back. She daintily crossed one leg over the other and pulled out her phone to call the police. During the call, the redhead took in the damage. Her left wrist was at least sprained and the gash in her arm would no doubt need stitches. Damn it... Removing her tie, she wrapped the wound the best she could and ended the call, starting a new one moments after. "Hi, Daddy! Sorry to say I won't be able to make it tonight... Yeah, I'm alright, mostly. I got into a bit of a scuffle... No, no one to worry about. Just some loser who thought he could jump me." She scowled down at the helpless form below her, then at the knife in her hand. A wicked grin graced her features as she thought up the most delicious payback.
"Yes, I'm okay. Just some mild injuries I want to have looked at, just in case... Yeah, a ride to the hospital sounds good." As the redhead spoke casually to her father, she enacted her revenge, cutting into the killer's clothing to leave their back bare. "I'm hoping I don't need stitches... Oh, it's nothing that serious. I'd be bleeding a lot more if that was the case... Yes, any bleeding is bad." Carefully cutting into the rogue's upper back, she gave Viktor a new nickname, of sorts. "I have good news though!... Yeah! I'm not taking any of Mother's garbage anymore. I'm quitting as soon as possible. I may not know what exactly I'll do, but anything is better than working under her... I know, but it feels great knowing I won't have to listen to her anymore!" Miriam looked at her handiwork and chuckled.
"Oh, nothing. Just happy to be free, you know?... Yes. Love you too. See you in a bit." Hearing the sirens in the distance, Miriam stood and took one last look at her art. MIRIAM'S BITCH "Good luck living that down, prick."
(Rough idea of Miriam's apartment after Mary moves in.)
