tries writing stories. is bad at her only job. Currently no requests because fuck that shit. she/her | female | 21 | straight | god you better not get political because if you do I'm outta here, except if it's Star Wars Politics- | entirely broke | Yeah, I'm extinct Trash, just not approved extinct trash!
(You can tip now...but tbh...you probably shouldn't enable my procrastination with money. Only Chaotic Neutrals do that shit...) sincerely, a chaotic neutral-
'In the Name of Love' – Masterlist
(Cal Kestis x Kyra Yarmot)
'All you need is a bit of Faith' – Masterlist
(Jerome Valeska x Faith Wayne/Phoenix)
First Season General Fanfic:
#1 Dream x Kate (YouTube OC) 'Where you belong and where you don't.'
#2 Dream x Kate (18+) Valentine's Day Special 'You know he loves you because...'
#3 Aitor x Casey (Dying Light OC) 'Warm Welcome'
#4 Aitor x Casey 'Tunnel View of Rage'
#5 Aitor x Casey 'The Leaves of Betrayal and Trust'
#6 Aitor x Casey 'One of a kind, your burden to carry'
#7 Aitor x Casey 'Bred on a makeshift bed' (18+)
#8 Aitor x Casey 'Bloodshed under a starry night sky'
#9 Aitor x Casey 'Whatever it takes'
#10 Aitor x Casey 'Your big and strong Protector' (18+)
Second season General Fanfic:
#11 Aitor x Casey 'Off to new Adventures' pt.1
#12 Shota Aizawa x Nakano Kaneko (MHA OC) 'Sunglasses off...'
#13 Shota Aizawa x Nakano 'the offer'
#14 Nathan Prescott x Kathryn (LiS OC) 'Two dipshits and Bacon'
#15 Queen B Ford x Leah Kilton 'Blood Loss' pt.1
#16 Cameron Monaghan x Bailey Baumbach
#17
#18
#19
#20
Also:
After a mistake during a login, i had to redo my server too. It's supposed to be a Warframe Clan-Server but currently more of a server i chat on with my few friends. If you're interested, you can use the link to join, no real Barrie's for newcomers, you just have to be a server member for at 10 minutes before you can write in chat as well.
Reblog if you stand with abuse victims REGARDLESS of gender!
Men get raped, they get abused, and they have mental health problems. Yet, are literally laughed at when the mention any sort of sexual trauma. Men, I stand with you.
I know I did this...twice already...but hear me out.
Sukuna Ryomen being so fucking HELLBENT on taking rule over humans and curses once more because he's gotten fucking BITTER...
... because someone was taken from him.
... because someone LEFT HIM. Nobody leaves him unless he lets them.
Sukuna had a favorite Concubine (basic Sukuna Fanfic trope, I got ya), called Yin.
Yin was special, as her Curse Energy was beyond ANYTHING even Sukuna felt. But the difference between her and Sukuna was that Yin was NOT a fan of using her strength to hurt others that didn't deserve it.
Sukuna should have seen her as WEAK, as WORTHLESS for being unwilling to use her superiority over other Sorcerers and Humans. And yet...he didn't. He had always been confused WHY he let her live the day he came across her outside a village he was about to demand another annual sacrifice from. WHY those light blue eyes...enchanted him enough to take HER as the sacrifice before even looking at the other available girls of the village.
Like he knew.
She was different. Her cursed energy was different to even his own.
She was a tiny, malnourished, frightful thing... shivering like leaves when he took her to his Palace back then, and yet, he had to note...the fear within her was not due to him. If anything...Yin appeared FEARLESS when she met Sukuna (remember, in his true form, so a massive man with four arms and four eyes towering over tiny Yin like a beast). She called him FUCKING MISTER?!?
He wouldn't ever let any other Concubine or other servants of his life with the amount of "disrespectful" things she got away with.
She was allowed to look at his face without permission the moment they met, Sukuna noting her... clueless about who he is...until he says his name and she remembered her big brother...
Her big brother is Yang. A man that was born a Curse, defiant and powerful, having gone from his village to seek out an army of Sorcerers that was willing to help him defeat the King of Curses.
Back then, Sukuna expected Yin to THEN start fearing him...when she realized that he was the man her brother left her and the village for to fight against.
She didn't.
Yin was an oddity to the Sukuna of the past, a... weakness that wormed itself into his four hands and he seemingly never did something against.
His leniency with her only grew, as he made her his official Concubine and his other women at the Palace soon realized how... unnecessary...they became. Sukuna was bored? Send Yin. Sukuna requests a girl to bath him? Send Yin. Sukuna asks for company while he feasts? Yin.
It got to a point the Concubines cornered her, demanding answers, what kind of WITCH she was to have enchanted the King of Curses and what her goal was...to have them without a purpose and be sent away? To simply have them killed?!
Too bad, Sukuna has good ears.
Was Yin the first Concubine he actively kept safe from the threats and pettiness of the other girls. Yes.
Does Sukuna realize that his special treatment of Yin, of all Concubines, meant something else than his "intrigue and interest"? No.
More and more, Yin asked him to spend time with her in the Palace gardens. He was the King of Curses, he had better things to do tha- what was that? A bouquet of her favorite flowers? Fine, he has a moment.
Many moments. Hours.
Falls asleep in the grass. When was the last time he actually did such things? He never did before, not even when he was still human.
Did that Servant see right? Is that the King of Curses slow dancing alongside that Yin Girl? Albeit with some difficulty due to the staggering height and size difference.
Yin was able to see a side of Sukuna that even he didn't know was there, like she could see his very soul. She didn't do it intentionally, she wasn't good at controlling her cursed energy at the beginning. So he trained her...even if she wasn't a fan of bloodshed.
And his favorite Concubine turned out to have become his right side on the battlefield as quickly as she became his initially as well. Seems there WAS some darkness to his pure, white little flower?
His other concubines fears became reality, they became obsolete. They were made regular servants...Yin was the only remaining Concubine.
Was she even a lowly Concubine anymore?
Five Years have passed when the final moments began, an 18 year old Yin having followed Sukuna into battle... against her own brother and an unknown enemy.
...but she perishes, caught in a moment of weakness and gets killed. Nobody knew who did it, Yin's mangled body found in the Palace gardens.
And that's when Sukuna returns to the man WE know...but the one we know is WORSE than he was before he found and took in Yin.
How does she dare leave him? Insolent brat. Worthless woman. He is not going to rest till he finds a way to get REVENGE on her for abandoning HIM on the battlefield.
It's what he told himself, that he was so livid with anger and hatred for her, for dying without his permission, that he got himself into a miserable deal with Kenjaku, who was the one to reveal a secret to him:
Yin was not a regular human, she was a reincarnation of a divine being, the Yin-Spirit. And she will reincarnate again.
He will get back to strength in the future...he will find her again. And he will make her PAY...
So did you ever do anything with the extinction/repopulation kink post? Cause now I'm curious
I wrote two more Smut-Scenes in the second Book, both heavily implying what the two's kink(s) are – the aforementioned – but I don't know if they ended up any good because I always question my Smut Writing Skill.
But unfortunately I burned out within the middle of the second book unfortunately...
Not enough ideas
Low Writing Self-esteem
Writer's Block in general
Zero Likes or anything to know if people even read it still
It all contributed to me at putting the story on a Hiatus at first and now to questioning if I will ever fully come back to it.
So there most likely won't be a third one. I'm sorry... 😔
Marcus: *Tells Anne of him living on the street before going to King's Dominion, expecting a glimmer of empathy since she's so kind to basically EVERYONE...except HIM-*
Anne, without batting an eyelash: ...so not just a rat-bastard
It was long past midnight, 2AM specifically, when Anne ran into an alleyway to escape some less than nice people that tailed her. Hiding behind a dumpster until the men had passed the alleyway, she didn't immediately notice the shadowed form of a person leaning against the wall, lit cigarette in hand.
So of course, she jumped a few inches when he opens his mouth suddenly, "So...what is a pretty girl like you – running away from some strange men no less – doing besides that at the dead of night, princess?"
The initial shock quite quickly melted to some lopsided sneer or grin, mostly due to the incredibly cheap nickname the stranger started to use for her without a second thought. God, she hated that nickname...
"If I'm princess...who do you think you're supposed to be? Prince Charming? Disney clearly fell off hard..."
"Prince Charming's a pussy. I prefer the term... Bad Boy." The boy smirked with confidence, then took a deep drag off of his cigarette and coughed. The smoke rising off of his shoulders, lingering in her dark hair.
'Cigarettes...what a fucking nasty habit.' She thought, but to be fair, how is that her problem? It's a stranger on the streets, well, an Alleyway.
"That's...somehow even worse." The much shorter girl shook her head, cringing on the inside at the potential size of his ego...
He seems to brush off her "insult" without wasting a second on it, still holding his head high, "I'm Marcus Lopez, whats your name... princess." He asked, somewhat genuine in his interest, and the nickname...it would haunt her for a while again. "You're a little short to be a princess, though, don't ya think?"
"I may be fucking short, but it's just the right height to end your family's bloodline, "bad boy"..."
He then proceed to guess if she is "fatherless" due to her attitude, there is a shit ton of close-body-contact tension as her blood boils with his smug shit, he steals her first kiss, she actually ends up kicking him in the balls (in turn for forcefully taking her first kiss), he continues being a dick, calls her a 'pretty plaything'...Anne doesn't take that well, after he tries to drag her back "home" – his dorm room – to him, they end up sprawled out on the literal road, on his lap, choking each other out while she grinds on him barely enough to tease him...
Bonus:
They meet again, during the daytime:
Marcus: Fuck, I wish I could kiss you again.
Anne: And I wish you would choke on your stupid cigarette and fall over dead. But we don't always get what we wish for, do we?
Marcus Lopez from Deadly Class with a mysterious girl he met at 2AM in the night, in a suspicious alleyway, only to find out she's the daughter of a renowned American Diplomat and a highly influential politician?
Him, you know him, you love him: A very talented, orphaned and way too sarcastic for his own good Student at King's Dominion, training to become a killer (And a professional punching bag for his less nice classmates)
Her: Just like her parents, a prime target for the very same families that send their criminal offspring to study at Marcus' school. Golden CageTM + Kicks ass as a hobby/to keep her family safe
Both: Assholes in the making. Modern Romeo and Juliet in a sense.
That's it, that's the post. Simmer with those thoughts, it's gonna make a lovely stock for the Christmas duck.
Yeah, I mean, I already simp for a plethora of Cameron's Characters...but yo hear me out: James Walker, as a ghost...not a demon, first of all.
But then, he finds a liking in the new girl of the family moving into his old home, gets emotionally attached after watching her fend off some intruders that wanted to hurt her because of her mother's profession. And literally, as in spiritual attaching himself to her.
The girl, still unnamed, ends up taking James to the beach, the side effect of her being the new physical attachment object.
Dead Boi enjoys it way more than he expected, almost looks more alive while in the sun and playing in the water with her. Even his skin feels warm to the touch.
He isn't physically threatening her or her family due a certain plot point I got in my head, instead he decides to be a menace of a different kind. Being attached to her, let's them communicate mentally (Like Cal and Kyra, in a way)...so when he wants to annoy her, he begins to hum songs he heard from memes.
She does something stupid?
Her: *drops her instant noodles down the stairs on accident because butter fingers.*
James, behind her: "It's the final braincell! *blows into a kazoo*"
Imagine you're editing a 15k long fiction – after having to copy it back to Docs after Tumblr already broke the draft (still, fuck you Tumblr) - you exit the App (WITHOUT CLOSING THE APP)...you get back on.
Tumblr closed the editing process WITHOUT saving, and you were halfway through 15k words, and those who read my shit know that I edit a lot on the plain FUCKIN text..
Okay. You take deep breathes. You start editing it AGAIN, trying to add the same words you added to the text from BEFORE it just deleted your process. You get back to the old edit progress, you're happy.
You need to check on a word, how to write it...exit the App.
Come back on the App with the knowledge of the great, wise thesaurus.
IT CLOSED THE EDIT PROCESS AGAIN WITHOUT SAVING!
UPDATE: IT BROKE MY DRAFT AGAIN!! FUCK THIS GODDAMN APP!
you’re so lucky you got seph 🥺🥺 no fair i wont him! but thank you for the tag < 3
ah the jjkrot is returning slowly and i took a bunch of screenshots from the trailer 😭😭😭😭😭 this man is so handsome id fall to my knees if he looked at me like that. i wanna give him kids of his own !
( # ) @keuchias @thehanging-gardens @roronoaswifey @shunsuist @saetoshis @kuujo @violxtbxbyy @s-une @soujos @cweampup @satorhime @izurou @510hz @kentofairy @neesiewrote @kazushawty & anyone else that wants to participate is welcome
.... I feel like I wouldn't even be able to fight to save the Hawks... I'm a fucking accessory to this man honesty😭Buuut as you know some red lights look bright green😒🖤
Well, I mean...IS IT THAT SURPRISING IF I WRITE A FANFIC FOR HIM?! If it's not HIM, it's either Cal Kestis or Ian Gallagher! Or just their actor, but he isn't fictional!
Phoenix takes Jerome for a ride and soon after beats in some faces, to be able to give the pretty ginger his second lesson of the day.
And does the boy slowly start to find his voice again thanks to Phoenix's lead?
Enjoy! :)
Word Count: approx. 3.600 Words
___________________
You left through the front door of the Apartment with Jerome, like a decent human being for once and not through the window again. Once out of the apartment building, you enter the most recent, possible addresses into your watch, activating the GPS of it that's connected to your personal "Batcycle". Though Dick is right with his opinion, that it's less a BATcycle than a Phoenixcycle. But the latter sounds incredibly stupid, so you stick with your dad's version for it until you're grazed with the right name during a warm shower.
Wordlessly, you start to cross the street, Jerome following close behind, tagging along with blind trust. Of course you pulled out a different pair of your shorts beforehand, still having been unable to find the strength to NOT stare straight downwards when he isn't looking. And if even you lost this battle, how would other women or certain men without your training of self-control react??
Jerome is just about to ask you where you're taking him, until with the press of a button on the screen of the same watch, you uncover the hiding spots of your previously cloaked vehicle.
"Wait…we're taking the Batcycle?!" Not THE batcycle, one of them, but yes. That's why you made him take the helmet, because while you gave two rat's nasty shitholes about helmets, you didn't want him to hurt himself in case his grip grows weak or you accidentally forget he's on as well and take a corner too sharp. Has all happened before and with every time something along the kind happened, you loved helmets more and more for existing.
You and Damian still have a secret that you keep from your dad, preferably taking it to each of your graves, about how you two went on Patrol together and he practically begged you on his knees – yes, you're still talking about Damian, the Gremlin you call your half-brother – to take him for a ride during it, since he of course wasn't allowed to drive himself yet, having been 12 years only at that point of the event.
And since he weighs basically nothing while on the bike, you…well…you kinda forgot he is on there and while you took a corner so tight it turned into you drifting, you only heard him shout your name a few meters already behind you.
Damian fell off your motorcycle that night, thankfully besides a few scratches nothing happened, but damn, you BOTH almost shat your costumes that patrol, yes even Damian, the kid that argues that he fears nothing. He fears your driving style since then.
"Yes we are, that's the helmet for. Put it on and hurry up. The longer we wait, the more time he has to find out that nothing happens to him…well, law-wise. A broken rib or two? Yeah, he won't escape THAT." He is quick to nod and follow your instructions, letting you get on first, watching with constant interest as you sit down on your cape. If you didn't, chances were high he gets smacked by it…and falls off. And still, you wanted to avoid that.
Once you give him the okay, he carefully sits behind you, but you help out a bit when he hesitates about holding onto you. "I don't bite…too hard...i mean, unless you want me to leave a mark." You tease, looking over your shoulder with a toothy, mischievous grin after you made sure that he held on tightly. "Do NOT ease your grip, if anything, hold on even tighter if you're worried. And tell me when I'm going too fast for you." While you couldn't see it, because of the helmet, the shaking of his hands and his nod told you enough of his current mood: two inches away from shitting enough bricks to remodel Wayne Manor. But you didn't know if it was because of the ride alone, since the Batcycle isn't exactly slow – Your Dad's, yours and those of your siblings all got equal Speed – or maybe even from the close proximity right now?
He did after all even flinch from you just touching his thigh as Faith back in Jim's Car yesterday. Was it that far off to think that he simply isn't used to getting touched, or at least, getting touched without it leaving a bruise or a cut afterwards? What a depressing thought and possibility...but you could understand it. Been like that when you were still young and had only recently been taking in by your Father and Alfred as well, flinching and dodging at every moment you felt their hands coming even close to you. It took a whole year for you to lose all your physical restraint, to actively hug Dad or Alfred, and respectively your adoptive brothers as well.
"Relax, everything is going to be fine." But no matter how serious and honest your words were meant, they wouldn't just erase all the former pain he went through like that, and you knew that, it didn't erase all of yours back then either. You wished they had, that you would've let dad in earlier. Because now that you knew of the dangers of not only his but also now your...life...you were made aware of how quickly you could lose the people you cared for the most.
You still remembered the day the Joker killed Jason, like it was yesterday, the pain of hearing the news from Dad...
Following the GPS through the streets, you kept your eyes out for anything of similar suspicion in different alleyways and so on. After all you're still on Patrol either way, though Day-Patrols usually were much much calmer than the more common night ones. Since Gotham's Criminal Underworld Slime more often crawled out of their holes at night, so it wasn't much use to do Patrols during daylight. With more and more time spent on the bike, you felt Jerome slightly relax into it. And with that, you didn't mean the ride itself, no, that clearly still had him on the edge.
You meant the close body contact. He seemed much more alright with actively holding onto you now, pressing himself into your smaller back, his arms wrapped around your waist, presumably to not have to witness the actual levels of speed your bodies currently traveled at. Good news for him and "his" underwear – thank the gods for you owning some boxershorts for comfort's sake – then that you reached the first address, and from the noise coming from one of the warehouses, it seems like you had hit the right spot on the first try. Unusual but you wouldn't turn your nose at that. "You good?" You turn to ask him once you get off the motorcycle, concealing it once more like earlier. Despite the jacket you gave him, he shook. So he couldn't push onto the fact that he was cold.
He was probably scared shitless from the whole ride, so you were quick to pull the helmet off of his head with some gentleness that was rare for Phoenix, placing it into the nearest bush for departure later before coming back to the ginger, watching him try to tame his now wild ginger locks, "You drive like a maniac..." Well, duh…you got places to be, you don't have the time to stop at red lights or remember traffic rules, "...Would you rather drive then?" That made him slightly frown at you, crossing his arms, "Me and which driver's license?" Which made you laugh almost too loud for the current situationand place you're in, throwing your head back before you calmed yourself down again, "Good…good fucking joke. You think I got an official license?? Never made one...yet, but the GCPD knows that I can drive and that it's the last thing on my list of intentions to hurt innocent people while driving." Plus, while you ignored some basic rules for driving regularly, like driving on the wrong side and so on…you knew them, you knew them very well.
You drove like a normal person when in Gotham as your normal self too, you just don't get pulled aside because the Police knows you – still meaning Faith in that case – that you're basically the left hand of Gordon. And someone who works for the Commissioner has to have a license, right?! Nah. You're lucky that they are that naive, and at the same time, it worries you about the general intelligence the officers have…
"You don't have one?" "Learned how to drive from my dad, Red Hood and Batman." One of the "three" was a horrible teacher for driving. No, it's not Batman.
Usually it was Alfred who taught every Robin how to handle the vehicles you get to use during Patrols, but when it was your turn, Alfred had just broken his arm due to a soapy mistake from Jason trying to clean up in the kitchen. So of course, as punishment – which indirectly ended up being one for you as well, as one might deduct from your driving skill/style – it became Jason's stand-in job to teach you the basics. Worst decision…well one of them…your dad ever made.
The absolute worst was fucking your hellspawn of a mother nearly 19 years ago, creating you in the process, but that's a different kind of subject for a different kind of day. Definitely not fitting for today.
"I'm guessing your connections to the GCPD kept you on the street for that long?" Jerome went on to ask as you two crossed the street to get to the warehouses lined up at the riverside, "Hit the nail on the head, yeah." Then, you signal him to keep quiet from now on, to stay back further until you gave him the sign that he could come in. You didn't need him to get hurt because you dragged him into gunfire and overly aggressive Gang Members. To that came that you needed all your focus on defending yourself already, having to split your attention on keeping him fucking alive would put you into danger as well.
Once you have managed to stash the boy away behind some crates outside the warehouse, you pull out your grapple gun from the tool belt, aiming at the roof's edge. "See you in a bit, pretty boy." Of course you had to drop that nickname again, who would you be if you didn't tease him every five minutes to watch the blood shoot back up into his face and his dark green eyes widen with shock.
Though this time you didn't get much time to admire the effect your words had on him, already getting pulled up to the roof when you finished speaking to him, using your hands to pull yourself up the edge at the end before slowly making your way over to one of the few roof access hatches. You had so many encounters in so many building types and places, that you knew some of the ways they were built better than you knew what kind of clothes you owned. The latter was getting out of control anyways, you need to clean up again soon-
Shaking your head, you get back to the actual problem at hand, dropping down through the hatch onto one of the horizontal metal beams holding the warehouse together and stable during storms. From up here, you had the perfect view downwards to the culprits of all that noise, two separate groups in the middle of a deal.
And with them? The suspect, visibly anxious from his body language. He still thought that he was in danger after the day you caught him at the crime scene. Why the hell did he return anyways if it was a crime related to Penguin and not a personal one? Usually these types of murders don't result in the killer returning, but instead in reporting his actions to whomever he worked for, for protection in case of repercussions. Repercussions in the form of a vigilante's fist, foot or weapon.
…
What if it wasn't a Penguin-related murder but actually personal?
Just because he worked for that short, stumbling umbrella obsesses prick, doesn't mean every crooked thing he does is for the Penguin, as Cobblepot had a thing for taking henchmen that already weren't "innocent little boys" to begin with. Usually they had their history with law enforcement before, or even the Vigilantes if they and their bones were unfortunate…
The deal itself was common, but currently doing its rounds at the many riverside warehouses again more than elsewhere: Gun Trades, of course. Let's hope only the ones they're holding are loaded. Then again, whoever the second group is from are from and the Penguin are not exactly friends of their henchmen using the guns, "the precious ware", in trade without explicit Permission from either one of the "Bosses". The day you take fucking Oswald Cobblepot serious is the day your life takes a healthy turn, you'll start a family and all. Fuck, as of you get to settle down, ever. Especially with the conscious knowledge keeping you awake that these criminals will have field day with the day you "retire", just like with anyone else that was part of your crime-fighting family.
But that will never happen, so no kids pulling at your pant legs, constantly endangered by your second life at night. At least something you can be certain of is that Cobblepot will always stay a goddamn joke in your eyes. One easily killed Joke, but your Dad of course doesn't let you, because it's against the rules he taught you all, even Jason. While he is right, and you kept to that rule...mostly, it was also such a goddamn…Bore.
Spying out the deal from above, you pinned down the actual number of threats, and calculated how many would potentially run away. The suspect would belong to that group, from what you watched, as he was obviously still very jumpy as you previously deducted. But you couldn't have that, he was the main target in all of this, you needed him here, you needed him conscious.
So a smoke bomb it was.
As soon as it hits the ground, dispersing the light powder inside all around its usual area, you put on your mouth guard against it. "Well hello there, boys! So sorry I had to blow up your little get-together…by the way, you still know each other from school by any chance?!" Was your witty remark, having jumped down to take out the first two with your feet, their short lived grunts your good to go before you continue with the others.
From the corner of your eyes, you saw the main target of yours trying to slip away by using the chaos that now broke out, which was quickly hindered by a quick hip-aimed fire of your gun. Non lethal rubber bullets, just like Jason, of course. But they were still very much capable of fracturing bones and internal bleeding if used right or…"wrong".
The howl coming from the target indicated a fracture though, or at least, he wouldn't be able to run anymore when you checked up on him and he still laid in the same spot, whimpering to himself while holding his hit leg.
Reholstering the gun, you turned back to his friends, immediately getting to dodge their blind attempts at swinging their fists into you or with their makeshift weapons of…oh yeah…yeah…crowbars. Everyone's not favorite.
Swiftly you kick some of them out of their hands, the metal clanking across the warehouse floor. Can't they just give up for once? You're not here for them anyways!
Not two minutes later, the smoke bomb finally settled again, you had incapacitated every one of them, using some zip ties for now to hold them here till you had informed the GCPD. That left only one.
"...seems like you're the last one for me to deal with, huh?" You call out with a lazy grin, taking your time walking over to him as you re-pocket the flare you didn't need, knowing there was nowhere to run for him. "Jerome! You can come in now!!" Was the next thing you shout, already dragging the complaining man behind you to one of the other metal beams that support the weight of the roof.
Turns out, he was already watching anyway, coming out from behind the massive warehouse door, mouth hanging wide open as he stared at the aftermath of your fiery encounter, the smellof singed clothes and plastic hanging in the air. "Holy shit…that was so fucking badass!" He exclaims, unfreezing from his shock, covering ground while stepping unfazed over the unconscious bodies of the criminals. "Didn't I tell you to stay behind the crates?" "Well…yeah.. but-" "You got too curious?" He nods sheepishly, expecting you to stay angry at him, just like his mother would have probably. But why should you, it wasn't too dangerous, they didn't have any guns besides the ones in the crates. If anything: he finally seems to find his own free will in himself again, something that was stripped away forcefully from him when he grew up. Curiosity is important to an extent, especially for self growth. But usually that's a lesson for kids...not an almost 19 year old boy.
"It's fine, come here and help me, we need to tie him against this beam…" you order, motioning him over with your head and holding out another zip tie to him. "W-what do you fucking want from me?!" The man asks with a stutter in his voice, clearly very aware of how fucked he was the same moment he knew it was Phoenix who blew up whatever weapons deal was about to happen here. "Eh…just some answers to some questions. In exchange…hmm…" you act like you're thinking about it for a moment, until you grin at him, menacingly. Because who are you shitting here, you and Jerome knew exactly what you would press against him.
The sole reason you looked for him, this pain in the ass!
"In exchange, I won't drag you with my bike all the way across the pavement of Gotham to the precinct for the Commissioner himself to deal with you…I know what you did, you're behind the murder at the Asylum two weeks ago." With a tone that erased any chance of him suspecting that you were technically just guessing. But to be fair, it was pretty certain it was him. "W-wh-what?!" Here comes the denia- "How did you find out it was me?!" Or not. Huh.
Then he scoffs, grasping his last bit of confidence it felt like as he looks you directly into your masked white eyes, "You work with Batman, you're nothing but one of his stupid Sidekicks, you can't- AHHH!" Okay, so maybe mild intimidation won't pull here today (plus no one calls you a sidekick), so without much of a warning, you had pulled back your leg quickly. And kicked with full strength into his upper ribs, watching him ring for air in his lungs now, spit dripping from his mouth as he coughs. Soon the tears followed and you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, getting close and personal.
"With the help of a little bird, saw you at the crime scene about…three days ago? They were kind enough to give me your description to…deal…with you." Cracking your knuckles loudly at the end, starting the mild intimidation for now as he was already breathing heavily. Hyperventilating and passed out, he would be of no use to you.
"Listen, you small fry fool, never think that just because me and the others aren't the Bat himself that we can't deal the same terrible cards as him. Now I recommend following my rules by spilling what your tiny little pea brain has stored up there…and I won't indebt you with a mile long hospital bill after I'm done with you." Was your hissed threat, throwing him back against the ground and metal beam, his head bouncing off the latter.
You would be here for quite a while if he was as stubborn as he made himself out to be-
"Fine…fine…i- i-i'll talk!" Booo, what a boring ass show, next channel...
Frowning, you kneel down to his current height, shaking your head, "You guys really know how to ruin one's fun, damn. Well fine then, I will take you for your word…" looking up to Jerome, you stand back up, take a few steps back and cross your arms. "I'll start with an easy one: Was the murder Cobblepot's order? …or was it personal?" Because if it actually turned out to be because of a personal dispute with the victim, you could still bring him in to Gordon.
Sure, you just said you wouldn't. But that was in case it's the first option you gave him with this question…plus that meant you wouldn't drag him behind your batcycle. It was a huge mistake to take everything you specifically said at face value, having taken a liking to be a bit of a deceiver and trickster towards people that had a negative standing with you. Yeah okay, you did that with your Brothers too every once in a while. Just to mess with them though.
Jerome first looked a bit surprised at the second question, since he thought you were certain that it was a job done for the Penguin. But clearly that wasn't the case anymore as you glare at the man.
"...That man was my brother."
Oh dear. Fratricide. Flavorful murder.
Didn't answer your actual question though, so with one boot getting placed on his already hurting ankle, you lean over him against the beam, "But was it for the Penguin, fucking hell!" "NO! That…that bastard fucked my sister!" Wait, wait, wait...what? His sister? But they were brothers. "You mean-" "He was ADOPTED! Now please...my foot!!!" Following his pitiful plea, you take your own foot off of his, still glaring at him, "Fine…"
What could you ask nex-
"Is the Penguin having any other similar deals like this soon?" Was that just…Jerome? Eyebrows pulled up as high as they possibly could be, you half turn towards the ginger, who looked like he tried so hard to seem tough. He did a bit, but he still looked like a partially kicked puppy, standing a bit awkward behind you. But unexpected or not, it drew a smile on your formerly cold, more calculated face. Once you knew that he saw your silent approval of his sudden decision to speak up, you're facing the man again.
"What he asked. Speak, or I fuck up your second ankle and make you walk a mile or two." Maybe ten. Depends on your mood to hurt criminals without killing them. That must've sounded anything but fun to him, you don't even know why, and he shook his head violently, "N-NO ANYTHING BUT THAT! I...rather fry in Blackgate …Penguin...he made some of his higher men plan a heist on Gotham's Main Centre Bank. It's supposed to happen any week next month, but nothing specific has been dated yet…please…p-please, I don't know anymore!" More? He knew of a planned heist, even if not exactly when, but it's going to be enough for the Batcomputer back home. That and hearing out some more of the said higher-ups in Cobblepot's ranks. An easy job for everyone.
"Jerome, call the GCPD, to come pick up the crooks around us." You tell the ginger while kneeling down to take the man off the metal beam, throwing your phone into his fumbling arms. He did so immediately, explaining the situation, and without having to tell him, he let's it sound like he is a civilian that came across these men already out cold. Such a good boy he is. Don't good boys deserve a little treat?
"Wait? Where are you taking me?" "The Precinct." Was the only thing you said for now, re-doing his zipties once getting him onto his one healthy foot, dragging him forward until you reached Jerome. "You thought ahead, didn't tell them you're with me, pretty boy." And before he could reply to that, you pull him down by the old baggy t-shirt of yours he wore now, placing a near feather-light kiss on the corner of his lips, his eyes widening like saucers, before getting back to the main task at hand and walking past him to get back to the Batcycle.
"Are you coming or not?" "...O-of course, Phoenix!" Not just a good boy. A good boy that's pretty and smart.
TBF...all of them, Kyra because of unbridled rage and need for vengeance. Faith because she is literally a Vigilante in Gotham for fuck's sake, if she didn't, she'd be doing a bad job all Patrol long. Another, still unrevealed one is just very hot-blooded and would start (just like me) a fist fight for a blue Raspberry ice pop while still becoming putty with her unconventional boyfriend.
New Question:
Because it fits my usual theme of Fanfics alot, Which one of your characters is most likely to kill for their significant other?
Gonna have to start using Ian GIFs soon because unfortunately Jerome in the actual series doesn't have that many...innocent...scenes. So yes...I know that the future GIFs aren't Jerome but Ian. I know.
Jerome doesn't know how to take care of himself, gets to wear Faith's old clothes and in the meantime Phoenix starts what she does second-best: scheming.
Enjoy! :)
Word Count: approx. 3.400 Words
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You look at the kitchen with a tilt of your head, squinting behind your mask. It didn't look like he ate anything till now, even though he said he was awake for hours now.
"Why didn't you eat anything, aren't you hungry?" He sighs, scratching the back of his head before also looking at the small open kitchen, "I mean, I would've…if Faith had any food here." Fuck, that's right…
You don't have anything in the fridge besides water bottles, for the simple reason that you're barely here, so it would only rot away while you're gone. But…
"Wait, I know what she has though…" what you have, to be correct. Walking past him, your unique cape trailing behind with a nearly enthusiastic bounce in your step – thanks to your newly designed boots that had different soles built in to help you with scaling buildings more quickly now – you targeted the small pantry cupboard above the counter and sink. Opening it, you reveal various cans and opened as well as fresh Cereal Bags, both able to be edible for years if stored in the right conditions, cold and dark.
Unless it's a nut-based Cereal, they get very disgusting once the nuts' oils turn rancid. Thankfully you prefer Fruit Cereals. A regular reason for fights between you and the rest of your siblings, since they rather eat chocolate based Cereals...so much to a protein rich diet. They eat like pigs in the wild.
"Damn, I didn't even look there…I thought that's the cabinet for plates." Yeah, you had a habit of putting shit where it doesn't belong, the plates are in the cabinet that's supposed to be used for food storage, something you also pointed out immediately for the ginger. He was more than thankful for someone at least finally explaining the kitchen to him, which you doubt Jim took his time for yesterday. Somewhere it's understandable though, Jim must've been tired too after a long day at work.
"How come you know all these things about Faith's Apartment?" "She lets me use it as a safe house when she's not here. Oh, as a warning beforehand, I have a second set of keys…so try to refrain from running around bare ass...Or don't." You don't mind, to be fair. You're not going to lie about the elephant in the room to yourself, the boy was very attractive in your eyes. Hit all the right spots for your taste, specifically the unfortunately still very muted freckles.
And Gotham isn't exactly the best place to catch some sun rays to help them get more defined again, the buildings and the smog keep most of the streets in shadows or at least, did not let through enough light to have it affect your skin.
He'd have to learn to travel across the roofs like you and your family for the sun to reach his face. And predicting from his current predisposition for anxiety, or at least it felt like he had one, he probably won't do that anytime soon. Well, you could always test it out while you're taking him along for the training you planned to give him.
"Eat something real quick then, I'll start looking into the description Faith gave me in the meantime. Come join me once you're done…" you pat him on the shoulder, leaving him standing half-frozen to his spot in the kitchen to find the stuff you needed in the office you stashed your equipment for non-physical investigation parts in. Dragging the whiteboard out, you can hear hkm halfway choke on the Cereal he chose to eat. Fruit Loops, nice.
"Where did you get a whole ass whiteboard from?!" "The office??" He probably didn't investigate the apartment that much himself anymore either last night, perhaps just happy to have found the bedroom and to fall down onto the bed in exhaustion for the stress of leaving Arkham behind himself again. "By the way, how is the mattress feeling?" For a moment you swore you saw a thought flicker through those dark greens before he stuttered in his words, "I-I…I slept on the couch, actually." Why would he do that??
"Why? The bedroom is yours while you're here, until Faith found a better place for you, your own apartment." Putting the brake into the small rolls at the bottom of the board, you turn back to the couch, placing down the small box of markers and magnets along with a pack of papers and sticky notes. You doubted that you would end up needing all that much, not for such a simple process. But you could never be too sure.
"I didn't want to make a mess out of it, my nightmares…they make me toss and turn." Yeah, you get that too, even without nightmares, as you're quite the animated sleeper. Meaning, even if it did bother you for some stupid ass reason, high chances you wouldn't even have noticed what he did with the sheets.
"I doubt she cares, she sleeps like that too. And boy does she have a kick in her sleep, almost broke my nose once." No, it was Jason's nose and it was actually after you slipped into his bed from a nightmare. No, it wasn't when you were a kid, but only a few months ago. Yes, you know how mature that sounds, being a vigilante and all but you don't care.
You also don't tell a living soul and Jason will die a second time if it slips out from him, that doesn't matter now though.
"Are you sure?" "Yes, of course I am! Where did you sleep tonight then anyways?"
His gaze went to the green couch you stood at, and then you saw the blankets too, wanting to facepalm at how you, daughter of the greatest Detective alive, didn't see them before. "On this old thing?! It's still from her room at the Manor! That thing is uncomfortable to sleep on as hell!" This was the first time you actually noticed some kind of strength in his "words" and his actions, rolling his eyes as he sent you a look of 'Yeah, no shit. I slept on it, I should know by now.' before going back to eating the cereal. Damn, so he can be sassy if he feels comfortable enough.
And you liked it a lot. You wanted to see more of it, the Jerome under all of this fear and trauma.
With protest from the old springs below it, you throw yourself onto the cushioning of said green couch, throwing the two throw blankets he must've used aside. Couldn't he at least have used a warm blanket, to make you feel less horrible for not having been here yesterday to explain everything? Especially to get him some food into the small fridge, he stills looks quite a bit miserable right now with dry cereal only. So you told him, "I will remind Faith of taking you to buy some clothes and groceries after this is done, so probably tomorrow. Until then, maybe try to find one of her more neutral, baggier t-shirts in the closet, they should fit you."
You continue without having to look up from your papers, knowing he stopped to start standing behind you – due to the more clear and louder crunch of the Fruit Loops he was eating – watching you work with interest, but not with the balls in his pants to give his two cents of opinion. Or maybe he didn't have any, opinions, you meant of course. "...And a pair of sport shorts from me are in there too, lent them to her once, never got them back. They're these Unisex ones, so don't worry about giving everyone a showcase of your ass cheeks…" Because it's hard giving back items to yourself of course, but hey, you're in a need to be creative and currently all of that actual talent went into drawing the features of the suspect.
It took not long, you hear his naked feet pad over to the kitchen again, placing the bowl into the sink and then disappear wordlessly into the adjacent room, the bedroom. It gives you a bit of a smile, knowing he listened to your words without thinking about them like…ten times over in his head, like usually. He needed to know and believe that you wanted anything but to harm him, to hurt him like he was by everyone around him before. You wanted nothing but the best for him, the same chance you were given. And you would keep that promise close to heart, reminding yourself of that as long as you had to, until he recovered to some extent.
Nearly done with the base of the sketch, you hear now socked feet return from the bedroom, calmly turning around to look at him. And while you said that they were…neutral, the shirts, it was still somewhat obvious that they once were supposed to be worn by a woman, especially one with a bigger chest, the gray melange colored cotton fabric stretched and worn out much more at the upper chest section from many previous times you wore it. Most of the clothes in your safehouse were older ones that you didn't wear anymore but thought to be too well kept still to just throw away.
But at least the shorts should sit rig-
...well…no, they don't.
He shouldn't wear THOSE on the street, unless he likes people staring at his crotch…damn. Damn…
Focus, Faith!
Shaking your head free of these inappropriate thoughts, like a fucked up etch-n-sketch drawing, you nod at Jerome with approval. It wasn't perfect, hell, it wasn't even a good fit – mostly becauseof these damn shorts! – , but it was miles and miles better than the disgusting Prisoner Uniform. At least now people wouldn't stare because they think he escaped Arkham or Blackgate, but just because it looks weird on him.
"Nice pink socks you found there, Buddy." You teased, already looking back to your sketch on the coffee table though before you saw his face's reaction to it. The cushions dipped down next to you, with quite the distance, basically the other end of the couch, as he kneaded his hands once more in his lap.
"It's not like I had much choice. The others are pink or purple with glitter or lace…" It's not like you expected to stash a boy in these four walls anytime soon, so yeah…of course the clothes and the underwear will fit to the taste of a 18 year old girl that has her own Credit Card. "Again, I will inform her that she needs to take you clothes shopping, but to bring a set of…street-friendly clothes beforehand." Instead of texting anyone though, you simply opened your Notes and Calendar Apps on your phone.
'Take Jerome shopping for clothes, Tomorrow/ASAP (steal some of Tim's Clothes as well, the bigger ones) ALSO: GROCERIES!!'
Just having put down the phone again, Jerome saw your sketch of the Suspect, mouth falling open slightly, "Holy shit. That's a really good sketch! Did Batman teach you how to sketch these Suspect portraits?" No…not in the slightest, your Dad can remember faces, but he can't draw for shit. One of the few flaws in the Bat, one that you erased in yourself by challenging yourself with new faces every week. Or perhaps it's the photographic memory, though it has a bit of a "life of its own", as Dad calls it. You just call it moody.
It doesn't always work out for you, sometimes you remember things to a T...usually the map of a videogame...
Sometimes you remember just as much as anyone else who looked at the scene, and there have been plenty of times your siblings looked at you with hope, hoping your memory played along but it just didn't in that moment, causing you to shrug, not able to help any more than them.
"No, I usually draw them for him or the rest if they remember enough of the person." Or Alfred. Alfred is quite good at drawing faces too, being the only source of a person that you could turn to and trust with teaching you to hone this skill.
"So you drew all this just from Faith's description…that's mental!"
"And that's just the start of everything. Though I doubt it will be much of a challenge to find this man, from what I can see."
You return matter of factly while going to the whiteboard to put up the drawing with a magnet, looking over your shoulder to wave the ginger over to you, pointing at the sketch, "...But I want to hear it from you. What is the important detail? What tells me where to look for this man?" "M-me?" Yes, from you Jerome, or do you see anyone else behind yourself?
He hesitates at first, then comes to stand next to you, a head taller than you with ease as he looks at the sketch as well, though rather confused instead of enlightened like you, then down to you. "This is the first thing I'm going to teach you as my Aide, Jerome, finding clues and hints on the already existing and cataloged evidence of a case…" you went on, almost feeling put into your father's spot when he first began to teach you and the others how to master the arts of investigations and the work that stood behind being a Detective while also a Vigilante.
You just hope Jerome isn't as dense as some of you were with some subjects.
With Hawk-like eyes, you watch him fall into surprisingly deep focus, scrutinizing the sketch you made. He would need to become faster with deciphering some things in the future, but that's why he is still learning, he will take years to get even close to mastering some of these things. Some of these things, you struggle with to this day, but not to a point that you can't forward your current knowledge and know-how to him.
Then something lights up in his eyes, a smile growing on his pale face. A smile that still could melt you to the ground, something you wouldn't even dream of telling him, not as Faith, not as Phoenix. You wanted him to become more confident in himself as a person, not cocky!
"Is…is it the scar?" …
"Correct. It is the scar. A very familiar pattern to one very familiar type of weapon. A trick umbrella, specifically one with a mini harpoon that can be launched from its tip with the press of a button that's placed down at the handle." And there was only one person that used such intricate, special weaponry the largest amount of times…
"The man we're looking for either works for the Penguin…or a rival Group?" Jerome was right with the first guess, which is unfortunate for one simple reason: If Cobblepot wanted one of his men to walk scott free, he would find his ways, that's how Gotham works.
That's how it has always worked: the corrupt are like slimy leeches that slip through every crack the law has left behind, never really staying in one's grip for long. The only way to stop these people was to cut the main leech's head off. Literally.
But, unfortunately, your dad doesn't allow such "drastic" measures, rather dealing with them by stuffing them back into Blackgate…over and over again. If he would just let you or Jason handle all these criminals, it…it wouldn't even take a night to ease some of the pressure on the normal, working class Gothamite.
"...Your grimace tells that's not good news, either way which guess was right, was one even ri-" "The police won't be able to prosecute this man, at least the chances are very slim. Even if I catch him, Cobblepot will, if this man is important in some way – which he will be, to cover up the crime he committed in the Penguin's name or order – he will find a way to get the suspect an attorney and out of the law's grip. We got…used to it, in a forced way of thinking." Jerome frowns at your bitter observation, crossing his arms before looking back at the sketch, grumbling under his breath.
"Yeah, but…you're PHOENIX, dammit! When did you, or Red Hood too, listen to the law! You killed criminals before for what they did!" Yes you did, and for most cases, you were determined to stay on your opinion that it was the right choice.
But only with the worst scum you crossed paths with. Rapists, Serial Killers, anyone doing harm to children in any form – which often includes the first two examples as well – human traffickers and terrorists, but mostly those that tried to use biological weapons like Anthrax and so on. So you and Jason followed a similar pattern, just that your set of rules sometimes fell onto deaf ears with yourself if a criminal got onto the wrong foot on the wrong day with you.
Or if your butterfingers slipped on the trigger-
"...Red Hood and I have ethics and rules about that. We don't just kill any small time criminal that crosses our path, like some pathetic shoplifter or bank Robber. Because I personally, I don't know how Red Hood sees it, still believe that such crimes can be redeemed after Prison if they want to redeem themselves." You sure hoped that he didn't connect Faith's and Phoenix very similar Philosophies to each other, otherwise, well, at least he would be smarter than you took him for.
But it would also be bad news for your priority rule: Keep your secret identity safe, in turn, keep Jerome safe.
"So…what can we do?" He asks with some desperation in his voice, even some glimmer of annoyance in his eyes. Though you were sure it wasn't directed at you, but instead at the man "in front of you". Did he see it as unfair that he was caught and detained for what he did and this man most likely won't even see a Blackgate cell from the inside? "Well, while he is still afraid of losing his freedom, I can weaponize that fear to press some information for other things out of him." And you have a knack for interrogations, to a point your dad suspected by now that you maybe had a bit too much fun with it. But can someone blame you, even if an asshole can't be taken behind bars, you can make them wish they were from the amount of secrets and info you often salvaged from their pitiful, begging forms.
Ruthless enough to kill a potentially innocent man, following orders like a trained dog, not a single brain cell in those heads used to think about the things they did for the already dirty, laundered money.
But if a nearly less than 5ft tall girl comes along, beats their ass into the asphalt or cement, commands them to speak up about their crimes and that of their group, they shit their pants and act like they are the victims. Too bad that you're wearing the costume, not them…
"...so we're still going to find out where he hangs around? And how much do you think you can get out of him?" Doesn't surprise you that he isn't against interrogating the suspect, as despite his overall fearing and overly filled with respect for you and Gordon, he still had this obvious side to him. A side you can't pinpoint that well, was it just plain anger? Or something more calculated that he himself had a hard time controlling?
" 'course we are. What kind of vigilante would I be if I left it at that? As for how much, i don't know yet. But i won't leave empty-handed, that's for sure." You ask, motioning at the portrait with your open palm before uncapping the black whiteboard marker again, the conversation finished in your own eyes so you tried to return to the focus of the mission.
Beginning to scribble down the current, potential sights the Penguin's men were seen at recently, you were quick to fill half the board, switching out for the green or red markers whenever you knew you needed a bit more contrast to find certain places or information more quickly again. Done, you cap all the pens once more, throwing them over your shoulder, too focused on one specific location to care much for where they ended up. Unlike Jerome, who followed the trajectory of them with his eyes, from what you caught from the corner of your own eyes, walking after them to pick them back up and put them down more carefully.
A vigilante and a former Arkham Inmate are in the same room and the inmate ends up being the more calm, collected one. Sounds like a bad joke, and yet here you were.
"Because then we can stop whatever else he and his buddies are planning. In my…profession…you have to learn to see something good, the positive, in everything. Even a potential setback."
If you don't, the amount of inevitable failures you witness and make in your line of work, they have the potential to drive you insane, drive you into a mad need for perfection.
And perfection isn't possible. But one can always thrive to make the best from the worst scenarios, that was what made you you. What made you take on the moniker of Phoenix, never let the bad and awful win, mentally and physically, keep going and keep pushing till you win, but never lose your true self in the process.
Tim, wasted after one Pina Colada: I am the left brain, I am the left brain. "I work really hard until my inevitable death" brain. You've got a job to do, you better do it right and the right way is with the left brain's might!
Jason: Nerd-
Dick, more drunk than the rest: I LIKE OREOS AND PUSSY-
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Jason: What doesn't kill me better start running, because now I'm fucking pissed.
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Faith: Dinosaurs aren't extinct. I mean, Dad is walking in this room.
Barbara: *wheeze*
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*Faith ate Damian's Cookie*
Damian: I’m gonna kill you.
Faith: Get in line like the rest!
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Bruce, bragging to an acquaintance: I’m telling you, my kids are extremely smar-
Faith, rushing in: Dad! Dad! Damian tried to make pasta in the coffee pot and now it's broken!
Damian: Snitch...
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Damian: I have a 1:30 appointment for the flu shot with Alfred tomorrow...
Faith: Which doctor?
Damian: No, with the regular doctor.
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Faith: Social distancing says you shouldn't be within an elbow's distance of each other.
*later, in a barfight, same as the one before*
Faith: Social distancing doesn't say nothing about feet! *kicks opponent in the face*
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Faith: This food is too hot... I cant eat it.
Jerome: You’re very hot, and I still eat you. So stop complaining.
Everyone at the table: *silence*
Jason: YOU GUYS ARE DISGUSTING!
Dick: One dinner... I just want ONE DINNER!
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Barbara: Hey, Bruce you're smart, tell me...what would happen if I chugged 3 gallons of chloroform.
Bruce: Have you ever been to a mortuary?
Barbara: Yea, my dad's mom lives there.
Alfred: That is the worst response to that question.
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*Jason chugging milk from the container*
Dick, drinking some coffee: "Aren't you lactose intolerant??"
