#summerofgotham

[nooowestayandgetcaught]

jeremiah valeska + drinking (hard liquor) to cope

[summerofgotham]

Autumn of Gotham

Here is first weeks promts :) I'll be releasing 5 promts a week in October!!

1. Sweaters/ cuddles

2. Autumn leaves/ picnic

3. bonfires

4. apples

5. Octoberfest

( @mordredllewelynjones helped me with these!! if you want to see a specific prompt then please send them in !!)

[thedeevirus]

Can you do some more with Martin as a young adult? Legacy is one of my favorite fics in this fandom. (It doesn’t have to be an extension of that one necessarily. Just anything with an aged-up Martin.)

Hope you enjoy this little titbit with Martin as a rebellious teenager who wants to join the family business :)

For @summerofgotham Week 3: Future AU

Also added to Nygmobblepot Ficlet Collection on AO3

***

Edshook his head as he heard the door to his hideout slam and a distinctive,halting tread descending the stairs. He noted the barely audible grumbling emanatingfrom the stairwell as well as its correlation to the speed and weight of thefootsteps. Oswald was not in a good mood.

Edturned to Martin.The teenager was still sitting on the stool. He had been experimentally touching hisbandaged wrist, wincing as he tried to rotate it but his eyes had grown wide ashe also identified the interloper into Ed’s lair. He hastily jammed the popsiclehe had been enjoying into his mouth, breathing heavily to battle the brainfreeze as he chewed and swallowed frantically. Once he had overcome thediscomfort, he reached for the writing pad resting on the desk beside him and wrotea single word. He held it up for Ed to see, even though his expression told Edhe already knew the answer. It flummoxed Ed how like a child Martin could still appear with those large,innocent looking eyes and boyish curls despite the fact he had grown nearly astall as he was.

Busted?

Edtook the pen from Martin and underlined the word in answer just as Oswaldwalked in.

‘HelloOswald’, Ed said brightly, holding up his own popsicle in greeting, ‘Would youlike a pop-?’

‘Whathappened?‘ Oswald demanded, glaring at Martin’s wrist.

AsOswald advanced on them, Martin scribbled quickly and leapt in front of Ed,showing Oswald the pad.

It’s not his fault!

Oswaldreached down and with care despite his obvious fury, took hold of Martin’swrist. His pale eyes flashed savagely, reflecting the various computer screensand neon lights of Ed’s hideout.

‘What.Happened?’ Oswald asked in a dangerously neutral tone.

‘It’sjust a small sprain’, Ed said placatingly, ‘Nothing to worry about’.

Martineagerly flashed a thumbs up with his good hand but was dismayed to see he andEd’s overtly chipper pantomiming was doing little to dampen his adoptedfather’s short fuse.

‘Whodid it?’ Oswald asked.

Martin,visibly deflated, drew a symbol and showed Oswald the page. A black bat outlineon a white page. He was about to explain further but Oswald tapped his caneloudly on the floor. A signal that he wasn’t interested in more details.

‘Oswald,just breathe’, Ed said, ‘You’re a penguin, not a Mother Hen’.

‘Howcould you do this to me?’ Oswald demanded, fingers clenching on the cane’shandle as if it was some poor unfortunate’s throat, ‘You promised this wouldn’thappen again! That if he came to you looking for more ‘lessons’ you’d call meimmediately!’

How did you find me?

‘Doyou think a leaf falls in this city without me knowing about it?!’ Oswald said,obviously insulted, ‘You are officially on thin ice young man’.

‘Penguinsknow all about that right?’ Ed joked, attempting to draw Oswald’s attention.

Itworked and Ed instantly felt like a rodeo clown facing down a particularlynasty bull as Oswald’s baleful gaze was redirected at him.

‘Andas for you, Riddler’, Oswald spat Ed’s alias as if it were a curse, ‘When I tellhim ‘no’, it means ‘no’. Not ‘go ask Ed if it’s alright’! It’s the oldest,basest loophole abuse in the book!‘

‘Hewanted to learn’, Ed said shrugging, deliberately keeping his tone and bodylanguage subdued so as not to enrage Oswald further, ‘He needs to learn how this city works if you want him running it oneday’.

‘Heneeds to learn how to be a better liar!’ Oswald snapped before rounding onMartin again, ‘Did you honestly think the school wouldn’t call me to see howyou were feeling?! Truant for three days!’

‘Yousaid you were on vacation’, Ed said to Martin disapprovingly, obviously againstthe idea of Martin skipping school.

Martinrolled his eyes and groaned, annoyed at being outnumbered and held up the pad.

I’m not missing anything important!

‘Howdo you know?’ Oswald asked but Martin had already finished the answer.

Heheld up the pad with a flourish and the slightest hint of a smug smile.

Because I stole the teacher’s lesson plan and did all thisweek’s work in advance.

‘Well,in that case-‘ Ed began, softening but Oswald held up an arresting finger.

‘Don’tyou dare act like that changes anything!’ Oswald growled, irked that Ed hadreverted to an opponent instead of a potential ally.

Dad! I’m fine. It doesn’t even hurt!

‘Weare going home and you are going back to school. End of discussion’.

You just don’t think I can handle it! I’m not a kid! I’m nothelpless!

Martinwas in the middle of another furious sentence when Oswald snatched the pagefrom the pad. Martin’s lip tightened as Oswald scrunched it into a ball insidehis whitened knuckles.

‘Isaid: ‘End of discussion’’, Oswald finished.

Martinthrew down his pad and ran for the stairway. Oswald made to go after Martin butEd laid a hand on his shoulder. Oswald shook Ed off and spun on his heel, coattails whipping like a scorpion’s barb.

‘Don’tworry, he’s tripped the security system. He’s not going anywhere’, Ed said andpointed his half-eaten popsicle at Oswald, ‘And neither are you until we’ve hada chat’.

‘You’dbetter make it good Ed because right now I’m really tempted to stick that popsicleup your-‘

Ed thrusthis arm forward and jammed the popsicle into Oswald’s open mouth. Oswald,caught off guard, pulled the stick free and was forced to chew the freezingcold lime flavoured chunks as the disintegrated in his mouth. Just as Ed hadplanned.

‘Ibrought Martin along on recon for a museum job I have planned and the Bat cameby on patrol’, Ed enunciated carefully, ensuring Oswald was listening, ‘He wasten minutes earlier than expected. I saw him coming, grabbed Martin and we ran.Martin caught his wrist on a fire escape and twisted it. We came back here, Ipatched him up, unlocked the door because I knew you’d come here looking for him,popsicles. The End’.

Edtook the popsicle stick from Oswald and flicked it into a nearby wastebasket asa visual full stop just as Oswald finally managed to swallow.

Ed’ssuccinct explanation as well as the fact that the violent vigilante did notseem directly responsible for Martin’s injury seemed to have mollified Oswaldsomewhat. In that he seemed content to just scowl at Ed instead of activelytrying to retaliate against the citrus flavoured assault he had just endured.

‘You’resure he didn’t see you?’ Oswald pressed.

‘Ithink we would both be a lot worse for wear if he had, don’t you? By the way,is it true?’

‘Iswhat true?’

‘Thatyou’re working with the Bat’.

Oswaldadjusted his shoulders and sniffed dismissively: confirmation to Ed, who wasintimately familiar with Oswald’s body language, that it was indeed true.

‘I’mnot working with him’, Oswald said pointedly, ‘I’m just not getting in hisway’.

‘Martindisagrees’.

‘Seemshe’s not the only one’, Oswald said sourly, eyeing Ed.

‘Whathappens if he does come for Martin one day?’ Ed asked, allowing a trace ofdisapproval to creep into his voice, ‘Will you get in his way then?’

‘Thatwon’t happen if Martin does as I say!’ Oswald snapped, ‘Why do you keepundermining my authority?!’

‘BecauseI’m trying to keep him safe too! When I found Martin had snuck in here again, Ithought it was better for me to keep an eye on him, so, I told him he couldcome with me to check out the museum. The more you try and tell him not to dosomething, the more he’ll want to do it. You can’t keep him on a leash so whynot make sure he’s safe and knows what he’s doing? Ignorance isn’t safety!’

Ed couldsee Oswald could see his point of view. Ed could also see that Oswald hated thathe could see Ed’s point of view.

‘Iblame you for this’, Oswald groused.

‘Forwhat? The well documented hormonal tyranny and rebellion of the adolescent?’

‘You’rethe only other person that drives me this crazy!’ Oswald said, slamming a handonto the desk.

Acrinkling noise made him realise he was still holding the piece of paper he hadtorn from Martin’s pad. He opened it and read:-

Why are you trying to hide who you are

Oswaldsighed heavily and folded the paper carefully in half, ruefully smoothing outthe wrinkles.

‘Youtold me you weren’t much older than Martin when you started your ‘career’’, Edsaid.

‘Thatwas different’.

‘How?’Ed asked, baffled.

‘Becauseback then there weren’t lunatics running around in costumes!’

Ed gesturedto his vibrant green suit with an offended expression and Oswald made adisgruntled noise.

‘Youknow what I mean!’

‘Is Martinright?’ Ed asked, sitting beside Oswald, ‘Do you really think he can’t handleit?’‘He shouldn’t have to handle anything!’ Oswald said exasperated, ‘I want him tobe better than I was, Ed. To live a proper life without looking over hisshoulder all the time. Maybe even find someone special someday’.

‘Likeyou did?’ Ed asked, placing a hand over Oswald’s.

He beganto trace swirling patterns on the back of his lover’s hand: a soothing movementhe knew Oswald enjoyed.

‘Preferablywithout the bumps in the road we’ve had’, Oswald said, one raised eyebrow aclear indicator that he knew what Ed was doing, ‘But, yes’.

‘Oswald,you and I only met because you were part of Gotham’s underworld and I wanted tojoin it. Just like Martin does. Have you considered that maybe Martin couldthrive there? Like I have?’

‘Thatwas different’.

‘There’sthat phrase again’, Ed said teasingly, ‘It was different only because I was lessprepared than Martin was. Until you helped me become who I was meant to be. Youcan help him too’.

‘Iknow. I just don’t want him to get hurt’.

Oswaldremoved his hand from Ed’s touch distractedly as it strayed to his leg. Ed felta pang of sympathy: Oswald was correct in that his error in naïve over reaching,had cost him dearly.

‘Justone mistake and…and I could lose him’, Oswald continued, ‘I want him to beworried about finding a date for prom or not getting picked for the footballteam, not practicing how to escape from handcuffs or deliberately pickingfights with bigger boys to toughen himself up!’

‘Allfledglings have to learn to fly sometime’, Ed said philosophically, ‘They’rethe ones who know when it’s time to jump out of the nest’.

‘Penguinfledglings don’t fly’, Oswald deadpanned earning a laugh from Ed.

‘Maybenot Mr Pedantic’, he conceded, ‘But they do have to navigate and feel at home invery dark waters. As a smart man once said: It’s better to walk with a friendin the darkness than-‘

‘-walkalone in the light’, Oswald finished, shoulders finally slumping in defeat.

Edrubbed Oswald’s back consolingly and kissed his cheek. Oswald leant his headinto Ed’s shoulder and sighed wistfully.

‘Ijust didn’t expect him to be diving so deep so soon’, he said.

Martinglowered from his seat on one of the stairs as they both approached and bangeda palm on the glass partition irritably. On his way up the stairs, motion detectorshad kicked in and sealed him between two glass partitions that had slid fromthe walls. Even if he had been able to talk, shouting wouldn’t have helped. Theglass walls dampened sound. It was why Ed had decided to talk to Oswald whenMartin was incapable of overhearing.

‘Stumpedya this time huh?’ Ed joked, clicking a hidden panel on the wall.

The partitionsslid back into the walls and Martin, newly liberated, stood up, crossing hisarms carefully but resentfully. Oswald approached and held something out toMartin with a sincere apology.Martin saw it was an origami penguin, folded from the words Oswald had takenfrom him. He looked at his father questioningly and saw he was smilingcontritely.

‘Youdon’t go off on your own, always be back in time for dinner and absolutely nocostumes’, Oswald pronounced, ‘Agreed?’

Martinlooked at Ed with sheer disbelief who flashed him a thumbs up. Martin smiledfrom ear to ear and hugged Oswald close, the paper penguin held tightly yet cautiouslyin his hand.

[ivy-chan-kasumi]

Summer of Gotham: Week 6 --> Season 2

Edward Nygma's Evolution

Puzzles are my forte. Nobody beats me.

[birdie-does-things]

Summer of Gotham!!

since we still have a year or I geuss one more season left of Gotham let's use that to our advantage!! Make all the art! all the memes! all of the beautiful fanart! edits! videos! anything to contribute to this wonderful fandom. communicate with other blogs and make new friends. We need to make season 5 the best fandom experience. I introduce the summer of gotham!! :D (or whatever season it is where you are ;) )

[peterhumbolt]

Quick little angsty story for summer of Gotham 💚💜

[luxlestrange]

[casanova-in-the-original-latin]

Routine.

My first contribution for @summerofgotham (Week #1 Angst)...enjoy! ;) 

Word count: 645

Routine.

| Jerome Valeska is a person.

Jerome has always moved like an artist, his limbs almost dancing even when he walked, and his strides long and proud as that of a showman. Born for defiance, wayward to the core, as independent as the rising sun, and a raging contrast of his twin.

Their mother venomous in her neglect, strangled all balance -- for it wasn’t just the house she neglected, she neglected her looks and mind too. Her neglect bleed into the upbringing of her sons, entangling them into her warped perception of love and into the coils of her manipulative nature.

The golden bond -- the pure love of her two little boys, was scorched and deformed. It lay dead in her hands; an unspoken war for her heart’s remains declared among the twins.

| Or Jerome Valeska was a person.

Sex. Drugs. Rock ‘n Roll. Hollywood crime dramas were his drug of choice. Growing up had made him numb - - leaving a longing for emotion seething through his core. An immaculate hunger twisting his insides.

To Jerome, once all the world had been a stage - - his soul once alight with the kind of pleasure born of mischief. He'd dreamt to see his name in lights - -  a child's dream only to be later deemed frivolous by those around him. He isn't meant to dream, has never held that right nor will he ever earn it. His role as his mother's worthless son had been determined long ago as he'd always be incomparable to his twin, Jeremiah, the prodigal son and genius.

The movies are as much a drama in his mind, a calling to Jerome’s inner self, as it is a story played out on the silver screen. The theater, a gate to the only heaven he'd be sent to -- a refuge from his world. For it is in those choreographed moments, directed by the greats and acted out by legends, that is he free to be a genius of his own art. A maven of filmography as the real world drifts away as if it was the fictional world and the movies are his new reality.

Outside of the worlds birthed inside the theater, his world was ghastly grey: his “home” vivid in its yellow and magenta tones unmistakable resting atop the scar-face hill. Alluring and seductive to the outsider’s eye -- defined by dazzling sequined costumes, elaborate makeup, and intricate performances.

Jerome’s life was led behind the curtain, his own charisma and showmanship forcefully disregarded; reality defined by the ever unapologetic ‘I’m sorry’, the oh so loving laughter, and the slurs of a drunken fool. The sounds made by the woman that called herself his mother. The woman that was okay with laying her hand on the ones that she swore she loved. To Jerome, that woman was no longer his mother, only an empty shell of someone that had once been.

| Or at least he likes to think that | he had once been a person.

The emptiness is always there now. There’s isn’t any getting away from it -- no hiding from it. His nightmares seem to help fill it -- to remind him of his childhood, like the emptiness is the monster under the bed. He’s so fucking scared of it, but yet he needs it. He needs to feel something. He needs something to go to shit, something to be imperfect. Sadly, he now feels safer when something is wrong -- he’s grown accustomed to it, expects it. He needs that monster under the bed. He needs it to distract himself, from not everything else but, simply, from himself.

The only monsters he had needed to fear, were the ones waking him up each morning, not the one coming out after he was asleep. It had become a routine, every single fucking night.

A routine.