#and the comic one got really dark mentally
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Okay but imagine:
A crossover fic where the comic and movie characters meet, and upon realizing that interdimensional travel is possible, C!Amb immediately blasts off to try to prevent some other version of himself from making the worst mistake of his life. However, since he is a passionate fucking idiot, he neglects to realize that if he goes into a dimension that is fifteen years behind, Blitzmeyer will not have yet invented the device to travel between dimensions, so he just one-way blind-hopped through the walls of reality. So someone has to bring a device to go get his ass.
Blackheart is obviously gonna go retrieve his dumb husband before he gets himself killed, but Movie Nimona thinks it would be a fun quirky time to explore an alternate dystopian universe, so she nabs the machine and hops through after him.
He gets a chance to become more comfortable with who Nimona is, they work together to save their alternate selves and stop the Director, while Blackheart, Boldheart, M!Amb and Blitzmeyer watch their adventures unfold on an alt-dimension projection like in Prismo's room.
Edit: they'd work together to stop the director not save her lol
#fic ideas#nimona#comic ambrosius#ambrosius goldenloin#ballister boldheart#ballister blackheart#goldenheart#nimona comic#meredith blitzmeyer#I want to work on this but I suck ass at long-form shit#Ive got two (2) immediate post-canon fics in the works one for each the comic and movie#and I cant get myself to work on either if them because too much plot#and the comic one got really dark mentally#anyway
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Hii!! i’ve never requested smth before but i absolutely adore your lil one shots for alastor and was wondering if you could write smth based on someone’s idea?
https://www.tumblr.com/sockmeat/741700944177315840/alastor-in-rut-but-instead-of-him-being-horny-hes
completely fine if not!! i just thought it was a cute idea and would love to see it wrote in an actual scenario!! :3
this is really simple and short but god writing block is killing me quickly... hope u like it anyway!!!!!! mwah mwah
as stated in the request, this is based off of @sockmeat 's post, which you can access by clicking here!
Jealousy Looks Good on You
alastor x reader (fluff)
TW: alastor is super possessive, reader is referred to as female but doesn't really effect story at all, thats it i think
join my discord!
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It was that time of year again for Alastor. A few months of absolute physical and mental torture—which, considering he lived in Hell, maybe that was how Heaven finally managed to torment him for eternity. It never took a genius to figure out what put Alastor in such an odd state.
He was a deer.
Deer go into rut.
It was incredibly embarrassing, to say the least, especially for him when the rut was over. However, for his “mate,” who faced the brunt end of his seasonal affections, you didn’t mind in the slightest. In fact, it was probably your favorite three months of the year.
You were currently lounging in the hotel lobby, chatting with Angel Dust about a bar he was interested in going to. You had one leg thrown up over the other, clad in a dark red outfit that had been “mysteriously” placed on the edge of your bed when you woke up—you knew who the culprit was as soon as you saw Alastor a few minutes later in a suspiciously similar outfit of the same color scheme.
He had been sitting next to you for a while, making small, nearly unnoticeable bids for attention as you tried to focus on Angel’s words. A pressure on your knee with his own, a light graze of his fingers through your hair as he lifted his hand to adjust his monocle… to anybody else, the contact would’ve seemed only coincidental; however, to you, it was obvious considering the great care he always took to mind his personal space.
A brief glance out of the corner of your eye confirmed your suspicions. You couldn’t help but lightly grin at the tense grin on his face and the growing expression of frustration as you continued to keep your attention on Angel.
“–so, that being said, I wanted ta invite’cha out with me! And Cherri’ll be there too,” Your eyes turned back towards the spider. You could nearly feel the tenseness in Alastor’s shoulders heighten, and that radio frequency of his tuning up ever so slightly, but still noticeable.
“That bar is no place for my lady,” Alastor responded in a snap before you could even open your mouth. You whipped your head in his direction with a frown.
“She isn’t your anything, Smiles,” Angel shot back, also interrupting your own attempt at defending yourself.
It was almost comical, the way your head twisted back and forth with each remark the two made at each other. The tension was rising quickly, and you were getting more agitated with how many times you got cut off from saying a single word.
You were distracted from your own mental anguish when Alastor abruptly stood, hand gripping his cane with more force than usual. There was a dangerous look in his red eyes as he grinned down at Angel.
“She is mine,” Alastor stated with finality. “And what’s mine stays with me.” He reached down and gripped your hand, tugging you up with him. As angry as he seemed he was still gentle with you, at least.
You’d be lying if you didn’t find the possessiveness attractive. Heck, it would probably be impossible to date the Radio Demon if you didn’t want to be obsessed over and practically owned. You were only slightly embarrassed at the heat on your cheeks when you felt the almost desperate grip of his on your hand, to which Angel pointed at with a defeated “what the hell.”
He basically dragged you away from the situation, ears slightly pressed back. He refused to look at you as you caught up to his steps and walked beside him. He didn’t have to look at you, though, because you already knew the turmoil that was going through his head.
“Don’t be so embarrassed,” You tried to comfort as he opened the door to your shared bedroom. “I think it’s very becoming of a gentleman to protect his property.” You enjoyed the way his eyes glittered with pride when you referred to yourself in such a manner. You didn’t truly consider yourself property, of course, but you simply enjoyed seeing that look in his eyes and the way his chest involuntarily puffed up.
What a different being Alastor was during his rut. More expression than ever with the way his affections and frustrations were so visible in his body language. He pulled you closer to him, squeezing you against his body as he let the two of you fall into the bed. You lifted yourself off of his chest with an elbow and looked down at him.
He met your gaze with his own wide, needy eyes and quivering smile. To put it simply, he looked… pitiful. Endearing. You loved it. He hated it. You knew if anybody saw him in this state he would go on the attack immediately without a single thought. You briefly glanced back to make sure the door had been locked. Just in case.
You smiled at him and peppered kisses on his chest and up, finally nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck. He sighed pleasantly at your motions, swooping his arms up to position you on your side in front of him, wrapping himself protectively around your body.
“I crave you, my love,” He stated in an incredibly forward way. His voice lacked the typical radio effect as he spoke, and you realized your skin was also not prickling with the sensation that usually accompanied his presence. You responded by layering your hands over his own, which was resting comfortably against your waist. “I never want you out in such a… dirty place with that overly sexual spider.”
“I know, Al,” You said with a sigh. “Too many ‘hungry eyes’, you’ve told me this.”
He remained quiet, and you could barely feel the way your hair flicked every time he exhaled against the top of your head.
You also remained quiet, opting to just enjoy the moment. These three months went by so, so fast, so you didn’t want to waste time speaking and bickering over meaningless things. You didn’t care to go to bars, anyway; you weren’t much of a drinker. You also hoped to get Alastor’s mind off of his disdain for Angel. While you trusted him to know better to attack one of your friends—more importantly one of Charlie’s friends—you didn’t want to take any chances. He was somehow even more unpredictable during his rut.
You leaned your head back, tilting up slightly to meet Alastor’s gaze. He placed a feather-light kiss against your forehead in response.
He was in for a long three months, but you were going to enjoy every second of it.
#ohdeerfully#hazbin hotel#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#fluff#alastor x you#im sorry imm taking one million years to write anything#ive been so lazy
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A valid excuse
Floyd x gn!reader
I have been consumed by tweel brainrot there is no turning back
Anyways here's something i thought of in 5 mins lfmaooo
You were awakened from your peaceful slumber by loud and oddly agressive knocking at the door to Ramshackle dorm.
What in the world? Who is trying to visit at this hour?
You groan, gently pushing Grim off you and slowly making your way to the door to find out who your late night visitor is.
"Finally..." Floyd mumbles when the door reveals your slouched figure. He makes a mental note of how you look in your sleepwear.
"...Floyd?" You mumble sleepily, hoping you didn't say the wrong twin's name. It's kind of hard to tell which one it is in the dark.
"You sure took your sweet time answering the door, Shrimpy." He invited himself in, casually walking past you into the lounge . Yup, it's definitely Floyd.
"Why are you here?" You yawned.
He squeezed you really hard all of a sudden, which woke you up almost instantly. You felt your bones cracking, you swear. Way more effective than an alarm clock. Or Grim.
"I had a nightmare... Can I sleep in your bed?" He pouted at you almost comically.
"That's why you came banging on my door at 2 AM?" You raised a brow at him, slightly annoyed. And besides, Floyd wasn't even your boyfriend or anything. He's just that one guy who gets really excited when he sees you for some reason. Why is he coming to you with this overly childish request? Jade works just fine.
His pout increased and he squeezed you even harder. As a warning, no doubt.
Seems there's no way out of this...
"Okay, okay- Fine-" you sounded strained due to your innability to breathe. You kinda don't want to die because of Floyd's squeezing, though it would certainly be a unique way to go.
"Yay~" he let go of you, prancing over to your bedroom like an excited child.
You followed behind him, worried that he might throw Grim out the window to make space for himself. If there's one thing you know about Floyd, it's that he's unpredictable. Not that that's a bad thing, you just don't want to end up with catlike casualty tonight.
"Ehhhh, why is Sealie all cuddled up on your bed?" he sounded offended, like someone just took his well deserved space.
"...He always is." you smile to yourself, thinking of how Grim is actually kinda like a real cat when he's all curled up by your side. You always feel the urge to pet him when he's like that.
Floyd takes a step forward (to "remove" Grim, no doubt) but you quickly pick up Grim and place him down on the rocking chair to prevent a premature death. Grim so owes you for this later.
"Here, the bed's all yours." you point to it somewhat nervously, watching his expression soften. I mean, were you seriously just going to let him sleep with you? You're honestly so tired you don't even care anymore.
He flops down on the bed unceremoniously, waiting for you to join him. As soon as you do, he hugs you tightly. "My dream was soooo bad... It was just horrible..." he mumbled into you with an overly dramatic undertone.
You still have no idea if the nightmare was just an excuse or if he actually had one. Either way, he is squeezing you right now and seems quite satisfied. You let your eyes slip closed.
"Wanna tell me what it was about?" you whisper.
"Later... I feel like squishing you forever for now..." he swung one of his lanky legs over you, sighing happily.
"You know Azul will get mad at you if you squish me forever, right? Cuz you won't show up to work..." you surrender yourself into his embrace fully, noting how smooth his arms are.
"I don't really care, to be honest...."
You suddenly felt a kiss on your cheek and you jolted slightly. Did Floyd just kiss you?
No, no. That was definitely just your imagination. You're half asleep, after all.
it's late at night as i'm proofreading this and i just got a rook card when i wanted the vil one😭😭😭😭😭😭my unluckiness knows no bounds
#˗ˏˋ ★ ♡ 「Wolfie’s other works」 ♡ ★ ˎˊ˗#twisted wonderland x yuu#twisted wonderland x you#disney twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland#twst x y/n#twst x yuu#twst x mc#twst x you#twst x reader#floyd leech x reader#floyd leech x yuu#floyd leech x y/n#floyd x reader#floyd leech#leech brothers#floyd twisted wonderland#floyd twst
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Where Dick's compartmentalization came from and how it affects the family
What's special about Dick, is that people far older than him see him as an equal because he's able to understand them and keep up with them, and that takes a massive toll on his mental health. He's been acting like a mother, brother, and partner to people twice his age from childhood.
The thing that really hurts is that when Dick's parents were gone, he didn't get angry. He just got really, really sad. And even though he was sad, all he wanted to do was help Batman-help Bruce. He just wanted to help this sad, older man. So at a time when he was grieving, he couldn't even properly grieve because Batman was grieving harder than him. He put his feelings on the back burner so he could fix Bruce.
Dick is not happy right now. Not because of Bruce's response but he's just feeling overwhelmingly sad because his parents have died. Yet look at the way he acts. He forces himself to pretend he's happy to alleviate Bruce's guilt, stress, anger over the case he's in. He didn't want to be another thing that makes him sad. That's horrifying behavior for a child of 8.
What really astonishes me is that Dick was a child with the maturity of an adult-meaning-he delicately handled Bruce's feelings while being careful not to overstep and yet still adjusting his behavior. He never tried to lash out Bruce. Ever. He got mad once at Batman when everything became too much but once Batman revealed himself to be Bruce, he never let his anger out on him. Or anyone.
And that makes me so sad because this is a child.
Look at his size compared to batman-tiny!
But this small boy controlled his emotions so his guardian wouldn't feel hurt when he was the one grieving makes me want to cry.
Here's another version of Batman and pre-robin Dick that showcases Dick's emotional maturity from a small age.
In Batman and Robin, the Boy Wonder-Dick's parent's died from a gunshot and Batman kidnaps Dick at the circus, before his parent's bodies have barely gotten cold.
Dick's response to the new situation and his parent's passing?
"No. Don't go there. Not now."
I can practically feel him compartmentalizing through the screen.
"Yes, Sir. I'll be brave."
He doesn't get a break. No matter the retelling of Dick's orgin story, Dick puts himself together to take care of the man that is supposed to be taking care of him.
But just as much of a toll this takes on Dick, it has a signifcant effect on Bruce too. Bruce cannot function if he knows that Dick isn't okay. I don't remember where but somewhere in the comics Bruce admits to resenting Dick for having amnesia. For not being with him. By him.
His reaction to Dick not remembering them?
The panel-where Dick screams at Bruce with tears in his eyes-it seems as though Bruce has them too. He's so heartbroken. His eyes are glistening with unshed tears.
In Road to Dark Crisis, Dick tells Jon
This is so true but the difference between Bruce and Dick is that while Bruce does it for his kids, he has no one to take care of him. So Dick stepped at an age far too young for it to be okay. I mean even therapists struggle with taking care of their patients problems and usually they're around the same age the patient. But Dick? No experience he took the entire job on his shoulders. Not only that but Dick acts as the whole family and titan's family therapist.
Tim
Tim goes to Dick about everything-every single one of his problems because they have such a good relationship. He tells him about his dad.
Not to mention the main thing he does for Tim
He puts his feelings and priorities on the back burner so he can take care of other people.
Jason
He takes care of Jason's emotional well-being. He tell him he's proud of him and validates him instead of putting him down like Bruce does.
Donna and Roy
The biggest reason why everyone loves Dick is because he accepts their mistakes and works with them and loves them instead of punishing them for it. They don't get that from anyone else. Especially Bruce.
That's another reason why he's so good with kids. It's because he has been designated to playing the role of the parent his entire life. So he gives them everything he has, welcomes them with open arms, takes care of them and makes them feel fixed. Even if it's at the cost of his own well-being. So that's why they fight but in the end also why none of them can let go of Dick. They need him.
#dick grayson#robin dick grayson#bruce wayne#batman#nightwing#tim drake#red robin#jason todd#red hood#donna troy#roy harper#arsenal
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Behind the Mask - Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader (ONESHOT)
Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader
Scarecrow x Batgirl!Reader
Word Count: 15079
Warnings: Enemies to Lovers, fear toxin, Scarecrow x Batgirl
Summary: (REQUEST) While chasing down the Scarecrow in Gotham, Y/n forms an unexpected bond with the mysterious figure. As their relationship deepens, Y/n finds herself navigating the blurred boundaries between friend and foe.
A/N: I got a request for Scarecrow x Batgirl!reader with enemies to lovers and I fucking JUMPED at this one, I did not mean to write this much, holy shit.
I didn't really have a plan going into this one, so when I started writing, I was going from top to bottom, so whatever happened happened and I clearly went OFF!
While writing this, I kinda had comic-book!Scarecrow in my brain for reasons I couldn't explain, but ya know... it's the same dude so yeah.
I really hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it 💚
-
"I'll need you to be on watch in the Narrows tonight," Bruce instructed Y/n as he fastened his suit, his tone carrying the weight of his responsibilities.
"Any you want me to keep an eye one in particular?" Y/n asked, adjusting her own suit in preparation.
"Many, but the Scarecrow’s been more active recently, I want you to look out for him, I have the Joker to deal with." Bruce replied, his gaze distant as he mentally prepared for the night's challenges.
It had been a a few months since Y/n first became the Batgirl. Y/n often found herself in the wrong place at the wrong time, or perhaps it was the right place at the right time, depending on how one looked at it. As a bystander in Gotham City, she frequently stumbled upon scenes of crime and chaos, unwittingly becoming entangled in the city's never-ending struggle for order.
On one occasion, while walking home from work, Y/n witnessed a mugging in progress. Without hesitation, she sprang into action, using her self-defense skills to fend off the assailant and protect the victim. Little did she know, Batman had been monitoring the situation from the shadows, impressed by her bravery and resourcefulness.
This became a regular occurrence for Y/n after that, seeking out injustice in the city and protecting those in need. With each encounter, Y/n found herself drawn further into Batman's world, her actions catching his attention time and time again, forging an unexpected bond between herself and the Dark Knight.
Under Batman's guidance, Y/n evolved from a mere bystander into Batgirl, a symbol of hope and strength for the citizens of Gotham. With her skills and determination, she stood shoulder to shoulder with the Caped Crusader, ready to confront the darkness that threatened to consume their city.
The two of them went their separate ways, Y/n finding herself in the Narrows, poached on a building. And as if on cue, she heard screams coming from an alley. Immediately jumping into action, Y/n dropped down and rushed to the scene, and just as she expect, the man with a burlap mask stood over a helpless person, screaming and scratching on the floor.
"Refining your toxins, Scarecrow?" Y/n's voice echoed down the dimly lit alley, drawing his attention like a moth to a flame.
"Alone in the shadows, Batgirl?" Scarecrow's distorted voice floated back, his eerie presence sending shivers down Y/n's spine.
Without hesitation, Y/n surged forward, her determination driving her towards the looming figure of Scarecrow. Scarecrow's agility was surprising, a testament to his cunning and prowess.
Despite his speed, Y/n's athletic skills allowed her to gain ground. With a swift motion, she held out a Batarang, sending it spinning towards Scarecrow's feet. The makeshift trap worked like a charm, causing him to stumble and crash to the ground.
"Lost your footing?" Y/n taunted, her voice laced with determination.
"Lost your vision?" Scarecrow retorted, his words accompanied by a sudden burst of suspicious powder that engulfed Y/n's senses.
Coughing and disoriented, she struggled to maintain her balance as her surroundings blurred into a hazy fog.
In the midst of the chaos, Scarecrow seized the opportunity to strike, delivering a well-aimed kick that sent Y/n tumbling to the ground. With a pained groan, she collided with the unforgiving pavement, the impact jarring her senses and rattling her confidence.
As Scarecrow's footsteps faded into the distance, leaving behind only the distant echoes of the Narrows, Y/n cursed her carelessness. Still reeling from the encounter, she struggled to regain her bearings, her vision still clouded and her body aching from the fall.
"This better not be permanent," Y/n muttered under her breath, frustration evident in her voice as she struggled to regain her footing amidst the haze of her blurry vision.
With the aid of the wall for support, Y/n navigated her way out of the Narrows, determination guiding her steps despite her impaired sight. Fumbling for her walkie-talkie, she summoned Batman, her admission tinged with a hint of embarrassment.
"Hey, uh... Could you bring the Batmobile? I can't see," Y/n confessed, her tone a clear indication of her frustration.
"On my way," Batman's reassuring voice crackled through the device.
As she waited at the end of the alleyway, the familiar roar of the Batmobile's engine signaled Batman's arrival. He lifted the roof of the vehicle, his presence a comforting presence in the midst of Y/n's uncertainty.
"You getting in?" Batman's usual impatience brought a hint of levity to the situation, his words a welcome distraction from Y/n's predicament.
"Yeah, could you help me? I can't see properly," Y/n admitted, her voice tinged with embarrassment. "It's all just a black blob."
Without hesitation, Batman leaped out of the car, his strong hand reaching out to guide Y/n safely into the vehicle. As they embarked on their journey through the city's shadowy streets, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the steadfast ally by her side.
"Rough night?" Batman's gravelly voice broke the silence, cutting through the tension that hung in the air.
"You could say that," Y/n replied, her tone heavy with disappointment as she settled into the seat beside him. "Will my vision be like this permanently?" Y/n asked, the question bugging her for the last 10 minutes.
"Hard to tell with the Scarecrow, but you should be okay. It's a surprise he didn't use his fear toxin on you," Batman remarked, his voice betraying a hint of concern.
Y/n let out a sigh of resignation, her shoulders slumping as she leaned back against the seat. In the darkness of the Batmobile, surrounded by the faint hum of the engine and the steady rhythm of the city outside, she couldn't help but feel a sense of vulnerability. But even in her moment of uncertainty, she found solace in the presence of the silent guardian beside her, a reminder that she was never truly alone in the shadows of Gotham.
-
Fortunately for Y/n, her vision returned within an hour, relieving her of the temporary blindness. Despite Bruce's insistence that she call it a night and rest up, Y/n's determination to uncover more about their adversary remained unyielding. In the depths of the Batcave, she was immersed in her research, combing through databases and news articles in search of a lead.
"Thought you'd be down here, Master Bruce holding you back?" Alfred's familiar voice echoed through the cavernous space as he descended into the Batcave.
"No, I was supposed to head home an hour ago," Y/n admitted, her attention still fixed on the glowing screen before her.
"Well, shall I fetch you some supper then?" Alfred offered, ever the attentive caretaker.
"It's alright, Alfred. Thank you," Y/n replied, offering a grateful smile in his direction.
As Alfred approached, he cast a glance at the screen, taking note of Y/n's diligent research and the meticulous notes scattered around her workspace.
"My, you've certainly done quite the thorough job. It's no wonder you landed that internship," Alfred remarked, his tone filled with pride.
"You and I both know I only got that internship at Arkham because of Bruce's influence," Y/n laughed.
"You ought to give yourself more credit, Miss L/n," Alfred's voice held a gentle admonishment as he glanced over Y/n's work. "When is your first day, anyway?"
Glancing at the clock, Y/n realized it was already 1 AM. "Tomorrow," she answered.
"I beg of you to go home, Miss L/n. Your sleep schedule is bad enough as it is," Alfred urged, concern etched in his voice.
Y/n let out a weary sigh. "I guess I'll have to leave the Scarecrow for another time."
Y/n and Alfred made their way back up to Wayne Manor, Y/n gathering her belongings in preparation to depart. Despite her reluctance to leave her research behind, she knew that rest was necessary if she wanted to be at her best for the challenges that lay ahead. With one last glance at the Batcomputer, Y/n bid farewell to the Batcave, her mind already turning towards the mysteries that awaited her on her first day at Arkham.
-
Y/n's first day at Arkham Asylum began with a mix of anticipation and nervous energy. The towering, foreboding structure of the institution loomed against the gray skies of Gotham, its reputation preceding it.
Working at Arkham Asylum had always been a dream for Y/n, fueled by a deep fascination with the psychology of criminals. And there was no better place than Arkham. She was aware that Bruce had played a pivotal role in securing this internship for her, primarily to make it easier to access the criminals and their files. Yet, this knowledge did little to dampen her enthusiasm. In fact, she saw it as practical to use her role for the greater good, combining her academic interests with her goal to protect Gotham.
As she stepped through the heavy, security-laden doors, she was greeted by Dr. Penelope Young, one of Arkham's leading psychiatrists and her supervisor for the duration of the internship.
"Welcome to Arkham Asylum, Miss L/n. I'm Dr. Young. I'll be showing you around today and discussing what you can expect during your time here," Dr. Young said, offering a firm handshake that Y/n returned.
Their tour began in the more benign corridors of the asylum, where Dr. Young outlined the history of Arkham, its purpose, and its challenges. She spoke with a passion that contrasted the grim surroundings, her belief in rehabilitation and understanding of the human psyche evident in her every word.
"As you'll soon learn, Arkham is more than just a holding facility for Gotham's criminally insane. It's a place of complexity, where psychology and security intersect in ways you won't see anywhere else," Dr. Young explained as they navigated through secure checkpoints.
The tour included visits to various departments, including the high-security wards where Gotham's most notorious villains were held. Dr. Young's explanations were thorough, covering the protocols for dealing with dangerous inmates, the importance of mental health assessments, and the ongoing research aimed at better understanding and treating profound psychological disorders.
"Your role here, Miss L/n, will involve assisting with patient assessments, participating in therapy sessions, and contributing to our research projects. It's crucial work that not only helps us understand the minds of those we're treating but also aids in ensuring the safety of Gotham City," Dr. Young said, her tone serious yet encouraging.
As they concluded the tour in the library, filled with texts on psychology, criminology, and the history of Arkham itself, Dr. Young offered some final advice.
"Always remember, the work we do here is challenging and often thankless. But it's also incredibly important. You're going to see and experience things that will test you, but I believe you have the potential to make a real difference."
Y/n left the tour feeling a mixture of awe and trepidation. The weight of her responsibilities at Arkham Asylum was now fully realized, but so too was her determination to meet the challenges head-on. As she prepared for her first assignment, she couldn't help but feel that her journey into the heart of Gotham's darkness was only just beginning.
-
Patrolling the rooftops alongside Batman had become a familiar part of Y/n's night life, yet that particular night, her performance was far from her usual standard. Missteps, a lack of balance, and a series of other minor blunders affected her efforts. Aware of Bruce's patience, she nonetheless couldn't shake off the feeling that she was more of a liability than an asset to Batman during their late-night surveillance.
"Fuck, sorry," Y/n muttered, hastily picking herself up after her foot caught on an uneven crack on a rooftop in the Narrows.
Batman halted his advance, turning to face her with a concern that seemed to pierce through the shadows of his cowl. "You should head home, you need rest," he suggested.
Y/n's gaze dropped, a wave of embarrassment washing over her. She knew he was right, yet admitting it felt like conceding to a weakness she couldn't afford.
"You're exhausted. It's been a long day," Batman tried to reassure her, recognizing the toll the day's events had taken on her.
"I know, but I feel like I need to be here," Y/n insisted, her voice a mix of determination and frustration.
"Is this about the Scarecrow again?" Batman's question cut through the tension, his insight honing in on the heart of her persistence.
"...Yeah," Y/n admitted, a mix of resolve and vulnerability in her voice.
Her obsession with stopping Scarecrow had pushed her to her limits, yet she felt an unyielding need to confront the fear he spread across Gotham. In that moment, beneath the expanse of the night sky, her dedication to their cause was as clear as the weariness she fought against.
The Scarecrow was Y/n's first real challenge with one of Gotham's notorious Rogue's. Until now, her experiences had primarily involved run-ins with lesser-known criminals. Unmasking the Scarecrow, whose identity remained a mystery to all of Gotham, would be a monumental achievement for her.
"Why don't you hang back a bit? You can stay on the scene, but I'd rather you not engage in anything major," Batman suggested, his voice carrying a note of protective caution.
Y/n nodded in agreement. She decided to approach the situation with caution, opting for observation over direct confrontation. From her vantage point on a nearby rooftop, she kept a vigilant eye on the Narrows, tracking Batman's movements as he patrolled the shadowy labyrinth below. That's when she spotted him.
Quickly, she grabbed her radio to alert Batman. "Scarecrow spotted near the north apartments!" she reported, urgency lacing her voice.
As Batman sprang into action, heading towards the reported location, Y/n felt a surge of determination. She knew she couldn't just stand by. Moving with purpose, she leaped across rooftops, her movements a blend of precision and grace, as she closed in on the two. Her heart raced with a mix of excitement and fear, fully aware of the dangers that lay ahead yet driven by a deep-seated resolve to make a difference.
His pursuit was relentless, a testament to years of honing his skills for moments just like this. The Scarecrow, a master of terror and manipulation, darted ahead, his movements erratic and desperate, aware that the Dark Knight was closing in on him.
The Scarecrow, realizing the inevitability of his capture, turned to face Batman, a sinister smile playing across his lips, hidden beneath the grotesque mask that had become his signature.
In a swift movement, Scarecrow pulled from his tattered coat a small canister, unleashing a cloud of his fear toxin directly at Batman. The gas, a potent concoction of Scarecrow's own design, filled the air, a visible miasma of terror.
Batman, caught off-guard by the sudden assault, attempted to evade the cloud but inhaled a breath of the toxic fumes. The world around him twisted horrifyingly, his vision blurring as the gas took hold, plunging him into a nightmarish landscape of his own fears. Towering figures of his past adversaries loomed over him, their taunts echoing in his ears, while the loss of his parents replayed in agonizing detail, a never-ending cycle of pain and guilt.
Y/n's heart skipped a beat at the sight of Batman collapsing, overcome by the Scarecrow's fear toxin. Without hesitation, she reached out to Alfred through her radio.
"It's urgent. Batman's been incapacitated by Scarecrow's fear gas. You need to get him immediately," she relayed with urgency.
Without waiting for Alfred's confirmation, she sprung into action, her body moving almost on instinct. She descended from her vantage point into the alleyway below, her cape billowing behind her as she set her sights on the retreating figure of the Scarecrow.
"You just can't let it go, can you?" Scarecrow taunted, turning to hurl a canister of his sinister concoction in her direction.
The moment the toxin enveloped her, Y/n's reality twisted into a nightmarish tableau. She fell to the ground, a scream tearing from her lips as the shadows around her seemed to swell with judgment and scorn. But this was different, alongside the overwhelming fear, a heavy drowsiness dragged at her consciousness.
This was no ordinary fear toxin, she realized with a struggle to maintain her awareness. Her breaths came in labored gasps, each one a battle against the encroaching darkness. Her strength ebbed away, leaving her helpless on the cold, unforgiving ground of the alley. Her vision blurred, yet she could make out the Scarecrow's figure looming over her, his mask a grotesque visage that pulsated in her dimming sight.
As her field of view narrowed to a point, she saw Scarecrow bend down beside her, his hands reaching out to grasp her. Then, as if a curtain had fallen over her world, everything succumbed to darkness.
-
The throbbing in her head was the first sensation that pierced through the fog of unconsciousness, a relentless pounding that seemed to echo through her entire being. Gritting her teeth in discomfort, Y/n reached up, her fingers pressing into her temples in a futile attempt to sooth the pain. With her eyes still firmly shut, she sat up from the surface beneath her.
As she became more aware, her palm registered the unmistakable chill of metal against her skin. Hesitantly, she allowed her eyelids to part, squinting against the dim light that filled her unfamiliar surroundings. This place, cold, sterile, and decidedly unwelcoming, was far from the familiar confines of her home or the Batcave. Panic fluttered in her chest as the realization set in.
She found herself lying on a stark, metallic table, the centerpiece of what appeared to be a neglected laboratory. The air was thick with the scent of chemicals and decay, a testament to the room's dubious purposes. With a growing sense of dread, Y/n ran a hand through her hair, her movements halting as another alarming detail dawned on her, her mask was missing.
She took a sharp intake of breath as she frantically searched her surroundings, her heart racing. Though still clad in the protective gear of Batgirl, minus her utility belt, the absence of her mask left her exposed, vulnerable.
The sound of the door creaking open sent a jolt of adrenaline through her. She became tense, preparing for who might come through that door, her mind racing through possibilities and plans of escape.
As the door swung open, the Scarecrow stepped through, his presence immediately filling the room with a palpable sense of dread. His iconic, scratchy burlap mask seemed to leer at her, the tattered edges of his suit fluttering slightly with his movements. Y/n's heart sank, deep down, she'd known he would be her captor.
The realization of her vulnerability flashed through her mind, sparking a defiant glare, even as she attempted to shield her identity by casting her gaze downward.
"You needn't bother trying to hide now," Scarecrow's voice cut through the tense air, a smirk audible in his tone as he closed the distance between them. "I've seen all I need to see."
Acknowledging that hiding was no longer an option, Y/n understood that resistance might still sway the balance in her favor. With a burst of energy, she attempted to launch herself off the table, only to crumble to the ground, her legs betraying her strength.
"Easy, you've only just regained consciousness," Scarecrow taunted, his steps hastening towards her prone form.
In her struggle to stand back up, Scarecrow's hands suddenly steadied her, pulling her up with a firm grip on her arm. Yet, even in this vulnerable state, Y/n's resolve didn't falter. Her hand darted out, seizing a scalpel from a nearby table, and she held it towards Scarecrow, who instinctively raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. The air between them crackled with tension, each poised for the other's next move.
Scarecrow's voice was calm, yet firm. "You're hardly in a position to resist effectively. Let me help you back onto the table before you injure yourself further. The scalpel isn't necessary," he advised, his tone bordering on reasonable.
Y/n couldn’t help but notice how professionally he spoke.
"So you can subject me to more of your experiments? Yeah nah," she laughed, sarcastically.
Scarecrow, unfazed by her resistance, replied with a hint of a threat, "Whether you agree or not, you're in no condition to stand. It's only a matter of time before you collapse again."
She knew he was right. She could barely feel her legs, and the bits of sensation she did have was undeniable pain. With a reluctant sigh, Y/n let the scalpel clatter back onto the table.
Seeing her give in, Scarecrow lowered his hands and gently supported her around her waist, guiding her with a care that contrasted with his usual menace. He lifted her effortlessly, placing her back on the medical table with a carefulness that seemed out of character. Her legs dangled off the side, the height of the table leaving her feet dangling in the air, a subtle reminder of her current vulnerability.
"Why am I here?" Y/n demanded.
"Had I not intervened, you would be dead," Scarecrow replied.
"So, you hit me with your gas for shits and giggles? Or am I just another subject for your midnight experiments?" Y/n's tone was laced with anger.
"I never intended to expose you to the gas," Scarecrow clarified, moving to grab an item from a nearby table.
"And what? Your hand just slipped?" Y/n retaliated with sarcasm.
"I thought you were the Batman," Scarecrow confessed as he returned to her side.
"And how does that change anything?" Y/n challenged.
Ignoring her, he held a cup, what appeared to be cloudy water. Scarecrow pressed the cup into her hand.
"What's this?" Y/n asked, raising her brow.
"For your headache and numbed legs," Scarecrow responded.
Y/n eyed the cup warily, her skepticism evident. Scarecrow sighed, his voice distorted by his mask.
"If I intended harm, it would have been done already," he assured her.
"Then answer my question," Y/n pressed.
"What question?" Scarecrow responded quickly, playing the fool.
Y/n rolled her eyes. "Why does it matter that you gassed me if I work with Batman?"
Scarecrow remained silent, his gaze fixed on her. She returned his stare, peering into the depths of his blue eyes, an aspect she'd never noticed before, having never been this close to him without a fight.
"Why don’t you want to hurt me?" Y/n rephrased her question.
"Because I don’t want to," he replied simply.
Y/n's shoulders sagged in defeat as she took a sip from the cup, relieved to find it tasted just like water.
"What's your name?" Scarecrow's question caught her off guard.
Y/n shot him a judging glance. "Seriously? Are you dumb? Or do you think I am?"
Scarecrow chuckled, the sound crackled by his mask. "Your face isn't much of a secret now," he remarked.
"True, but a name would give away too much, wouldn't it? Besides, I doubt you'd share yours even if I asked," Y/n countered.
"Fair enough. Batgirl it remains," Scarecrow said.
Concern creased Y/n's brow as she broached the subject weighing on her mind. "So, what's your plan for me now?"
"You're not in any shape to leave just yet," Scarecrow observed.
"Okay, but when I am?" Y/n pressed.
Scarecrow hesitated. "I can't say for certain when that'll be," he admitted.
"You're the reason I'm drugged up…it was your toxin," Y/n pointed out.
"I didn't anticipate having to save anyone after using the gas," Scarecrow replied, his gaze drifting away.
Y/n sensed there was more to his reluctance than he let on. "Why won't you let me go?" she demanded.
"I told you—" Scarecrow began, but Y/n interjected firmly, "I want the real reason."
Scarecrow settled into a chair at a nearby desk.
"Aw, is the Scarecrow feeling lonely?" Y/n teased, her tone light despite the tension in the air.
Though she couldn't discern his expression behind the mask, she could practically feel the weight of his glare.
"Hey, if you keep up with that attitude, I might just have to pay you a visit in the Narrows," Y/n teased further, her words laden with playful defiance.
Y/n couldn't shake the uncertainty creeping into her mind. Was she really entertaining him with her banter?
"I suppose I'll have to hold you to that," Scarecrow retorted, his tone tinged with a hint of amusement.
Y/n couldn't believe what she was hearing. Did he actually want her to visit?
"...Batman must be worried about me," Y/n spoke aloud.
"You'd be correct. He's been searching the Narrows looking for you," Scarecrow confirmed.
She's now aware of their whereabouts. Somewhere in the Narrows, not entirely helpful, but better than nothing.
Relief washed over Y/n. "So he's okay then?" she asked anxiously.
"I only administered a small dose. He's perfectly fine," Scarecrow reassured her.
"Can I leave in about 10 minutes?" Y/n requested.
Scarecrow sighed. "Yes, but let me perform one final check first," he insisted.
He approached her. "Can you stand?"
Y/n noticed a tingling sensation in her legs, a welcome sign of returning strength. She gingerly hopped off the metal table, feeling Scarecrow's supportive grip immediately. Taking a moment to steady herself with his assistance, she eventually managed to push him away gently.
"Considering how quickly Batman bounced back, I'm sure he'll be able to assist you if you encounter any further issues," Scarecrow remarked.
"So, can I go?" Y/n inquired.
"Yes, but you'll be blindfolded," Scarecrow detailed.
Y/n watched as Scarecrow grabbed an unexpected item from his coat, her mask which she had completely forgotten about. She accepted it, placing it securely back on her face. Following this, he produced a blindfold, carefully tying it around her eyes.
"What about my utility belt?" she questioned.
"It's been left in the alley. I expect Batman has already located it with the tracker," Scarecrow informed her.
It made sense, had the belt been here, Batman would have pinpointed her location instantly due to its tracking device.
"Give me your hand," Scarecrow said.
Y/n reached out, feeling Scarecrow's grip. His hand was bare, contrasting with her gloved one, allowing her to feel the unique texture of his skin. Together, they navigated towards what Y/n presumed was the exit.
"Mind your step," Scarecrow instructed.
With extra caution, Y/n raised her foot higher than usual, stepping over what she imagined was the door frame. The sound of metal underfoot suggested they had transitioned onto a metallic grate.
"Coming up to some stairs," Scarecrow said.
As Scarecrow slightly descended, he guided Y/n to the first step. Clutching Scarecrow's hand for support, her free hand found a handrail. They carefully descended the staircase together.
"Last step," Scarecrow informed her.
Her feet found solid concrete below. They continued their journey outside, Y/n blind to their surroundings. After about ten minutes wandering the Narrows in silence, Scarecrow halted.
"I'm going to spin you so you won't know which direction we came from," Scarecrow explained.
Y/n snorted, "Feels like a weird game," she joked.
Gently, Scarecrow placed his hands on her shoulders and started to spin her. Y/n laughed, her steps becoming unsteady as she spun. Once she was sufficiently dizzy, Scarecrow ceased the spinning.
"Can I take off the blindfold now?" Y/n asked.
Scarecrow loosened the knot, freeing her from the blindfold. Blinking against the light, she surveyed her surroundings, her balance off from the spinning.
"I have no idea where I am," she admitted, scanning the area.
"That was the point," Scarecrow replied.
A small smile formed on her lips. "Hey, thanks for not killing me," she uttered, a phrase she never imagined saying.
"I apoligize for using the gas on you," Scarecrow said.
"I appreciate the apology...So! See you around?" Y/n tilted her head, looking at him.
Scarecrow seemed taken aback. "You aren't planning to tackling me to the ground for Batman?"
She shook her head.
"Then, yes... until next time, Batgirl," Scarecrow affirmed.
With that, Y/n walked away, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the alley. Glancing back one last time, she found he had vanished into the shadows.
As Y/n made her way towards the mouth of the alley, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows with a swift, purposeful stride. The figure's imposing silhouette was unmistakable against the dimly lit street. Batman, cloaked in his iconic cape, his gaze fixed intently ahead.
He approached Y/n, his presence commanding yet reassuring. "Where have you been?" Batman's voice, deep and grave.
Although aggressive, she knew it was his way of showing his concern.
Y/n sighed. "I'm fine, thanks! But I wouldn’t have been if not for an unexpected turn of events," she responded, her voice a mix of relief and bewilderment.
Batman surveyed the surroundings with a beading eye, then returned his attention to Y/n. "Scarecrow?" he asked, already piecing together the encounter from the clues left behind.
"Yep," Y/n confirmed.
Batman summoned the Batmobile with a press of a button, and it swiftly glided around the corner, halting with precision in front of them. "We'll discuss it on the way," Batman suggested, sliding into the driver's seat of the Batmobile.
Y/n quickly followed, hopping into the passenger seat. The top sealed shut with a soft hiss, and they set off toward the Batcave, the engine's low rumble filling the air.
"As soon as you were hit with the toxin, I ran after Scarecrow. I know you said not to but I couldn't just stand by," Y/n recounted. "He hit me with some kind of super version of his toxin... I blacked out and later woke up in his lab... He had saved my life," she reflected, still piecing together the surreal events.
"Scarecrow...saved you...after he was the one to endanger you..." Batman's voice betrayed a hint of skepticism.
"Exactly... He said he mistook me for you and used a more lethal toxin," Y/n clarified.
Batman mulled over the information, "This must be part of some elaborate scheme."
"...When I was unconscious, he took off my mask," Y/n added quietly, the weight of her vulnerability in that moment hanging between them.
"We can't change what's happened," Batman responded with an unexpected calm. "For now, you need to stay at the batcave."
Y/n understood the protective gesture, Batman was ensuring her safety. This meant her encounters with Scarecrow would be on hold, a disappointing, yet perhaps for the best, turn of events.
-
Upon their arrival at the Batcave, Bruce insisted on conducting his own check up of Y/n to ensure her well-being. As he meticulously checked her condition, Y/n found her thoughts drifting back to Scarecrow.
The lanky figure behind the coarse, burlap mask now intrigued her more than ever. Despite her efforts to thwart his plans and her alliance with Batman, Scarecrow had spared her life. His actions defied the logic that he should have seen her as a direct threat, deserving of his lethal wrath.
Throughout their encounters, Scarecrow had consistently avoided using his fear toxin on her, opting for less harmful methods. And on the one occasion he did administer it, he promptly provided an antidote and went as far as looking after her back at his lab.
What puzzled her further was his reluctance, or perhaps refusal, to let her leave. There seemed to be an underlying reason he didn't want her to go, adding layers to his already complex persona. This unexpected mercy and the mystery shrouding his true intentions only deepened Y/n's curiosity about the man beneath the mask.
-
Y/n's second week interning at Arkham was unfolding better than she'd anticipated. Tasked with interacting with the less dangerous patients, she found them peculiar yet unexpectedly sweet, a stark contrast to her initial assumptions. Each person, in their own right, contributed to the unique tapestry of Arkham's inhabitants.
Walking through the asylum's corridors on her way to Dr. Young's office with a stack of files in hand, Y/n was absorbed in her thoughts, hardly aware of her surroundings. This lack of attention led to a collision with a passerby, resulting in her files scattering across the floor.
"Shit, sorry," she blurted out, immediately kneeling to gather the scattered documents.
The individual she bumped into stood frozen, offering no assistance or reaction. Once she collected her files and stood up to face him, she found herself looking at a tall, slender man adorned with rectangular, wire-framed glasses, his expression one of bafflement.
"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention," she said, hoping to break the ice.
Yet, the man remained silent, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open, offering nothing but a fixed stare. With an awkward smile, Y/n excused herself, moving past him to continue on her way.
"Sorry, again... Have a good day," she added, before turning her focus forward and spotting Dr. Young near her office.
"Met Dr. Crane, have you?" Dr. Young asked, observing the scene.
Glancing back, Y/n saw the man, now identified as Dr. Crane, retreating hastily down the hallway.
"Apparently. He a quiet one?" Y/n asked, intrigued by the unusual man.
"Not at all," Dr. Young confided with a hint of amusement. "He's known for being quite outspoken and, frankly, a bit abrasive. But let's keep that between us."
Y/n let out a soft chuckle, appreciating the candid insight. Together, they proceeded into Dr. Young's office. As they delved into their tasks and discussions, the brief encounter with Dr. Crane swiftly faded from Y/n's mind.
-
Barely two hours had passed, with Y/n engrossed in her task of organizing files, when Dr. Young re-entered the office, fresh from her break.
"It seems you've caught the attention of Dr. Crane," Dr. Young remarked as she stepped inside.
Y/n glanced up, puzzled. "Huh?"
Dr. Young, settling into her chair with a chuckle. "Well, in the cafeteria, Dr. Crane cam up to me out of the blue to ask about you. Considering he never engages in conversation unless it's strictly necessary, that was quite the surprise!"
Curiosity piqued, Y/n continued, "What exactly did he ask about?"
"Just your name and your role here," Dr. Young replied with a smile.
The thought of garnering anyone's interest, let alone Dr. Crane's, hadn't crossed Y/n's mind. Yet, she brushed it off, doubting it would have any significant impact on her internship.
-
Back at her home, Y/n found herself sprawled on her bed, engulfed in the unfamiliar territory of idleness. With Bruce sidelining her from night patrols, the once exhilarating darkness of Gotham's nights now stretched endlessly before her, filled with nothing but the quiet.
Letting out a sigh, she flung her book aside, a tangible sign of her growing restlessness. Reluctantly, she rose and drifted towards her computer, where the glow of her screen illuminated tabs of research left untouched since yesterday. Though the news articles of Scarecrow she had found offered little in the way of breakthroughs, she held onto the hope they might yet yield something of value.
It was then that a sudden thud against her window broke the silence, startling her. Turning to look, she expected to find nothing more unusual than a disoriented bird that flew into it. However, the repeated thudding suggested this was no ordinary accident.
With a sigh, Y/n approached the window to investigate. A crow was the culprit, determinedly striking the glass over and over. Attempting to shoo it away with a tap against the window proved futile, the bird was either stubborn or really dumb. About to turn away in defeat, Y/n noticed something clutched in the crow's beak, she naturally had to investigate.
Concerned it might be choking, she opened the window to offer assistance. The crow, uninvited, hopped boldly into her room and onto her bed.
"Hey! You’re gonna get my shit all dirty!" Y/n protested, trying to usher it off.
Yet the crow remained unbothered, stationed firmly on her bed. With a curious tilt of its head, it released its hold, letting the object, a piece of paper, fall onto her duvet.
Realizing the crow was unharmed, Y/n let out a sigh. "Okay, you can leave now," she suggested, gesturing towards the open window.
However, the crow remained stationary, its gaze fixed on her as if it had more to say. They stared at one another awkwardly, the air between them thick with uncertainty. The crow nudged the piece of paper with its beak, then lifted its eyes to hers, prompting her attention.
Reluctantly, Y/n shifted her focus to the paper, curiosity getting the better of her. The paper was torn and foled. She unfolded the ripped fragment to reveal a message that sent a jolt of shock through her.
'Found you.'
The simplicity of the message belied its ominous intent, transforming her initial confusion into a wave of dread. "Holy fuck," she muttered, her pulse quickening.
As if its mission was accomplished, the crow took its leave, soaring out the window. Y/n raced to the window, a futile attempt to keep it from leaving. "Oi!"
But her plea vanished into the night, leaving her to face the silence of her room. The solitude that had once been merely boring now felt ominously oppressive.
How had Scarecrow found her? The question echoed in her mind, a reminder that her sense of security was more fragile than she had ever imagined.
Y/n wasted no time in dialing Bruce's number, her fingers trembling with anxiety as she waited for him to pick up. When he finally answered, she didn't bother with pleasantries.
"He found me," she blurted out in a tense whisper.
"Y/n? What are you talk-?" Bruce paused. “How?”
"I don't know how he did it, Bruce. There's no way he could have tracked me from that night," Y/n replied, her nerves palpable. “He sent his fucking pet crow, or something to my window with a little note saying he found me.”
"I think it would be safest for you to stay at my place for a while," Bruce suggested, his tone urgent.
"Yeah, but what if he figures out… you know?" Y/n's worry crept into her voice.
"Is there anywhere else you can go?" Bruce asked, his concern evident.
Y/n's mind raced, but she couldn't think of any safe alternatives. "Not really," she admitted reluctantly.
"Okay, just stay safe. I'll be checking up on you," Bruce instructed firmly.
"I'll do my best," Y/n sighed, feeling a sense of dread settle over her as the call ended.
She dropped her phone on her bed along with herself. Sitting on her bed, she ran her hand down her face groaning. She just prayed he was as nice as he was the night before.
-
The next day, Y/n felt a sense of unease as she walked through the corridors of Arkham towards Dr. Young's office. Upon entering, she was met not only by Dr. Young, but also by the presence of Dr. Crane.
"Good morning, Y/n. I'm sure you're acquainted with Dr. Crane by now," Dr. Young gestured towards the man in the room.
Y/n nodded awkwardly, turning her attention to Dr. Crane. "Hello, Dr. Crane," she greeted, extending her hand for a shake.
"Miss L/n," he replied, his voice crisp and professional as he took her hand.
There was something strangely familiar about his touch, though Y/n couldn't quite place it. Brushing it off as mere coincidence, she focused on the conversation at hand.
"Well, we've decided to switch things up a bit and provide you with more opportunities around the asylum. Today, Dr. Crane has kindly offered to mentor you instead of me," Dr. Young explained.
Y/n nodded, trying to maintain her composure. "Oh... cool," she replied, though her uncertainty lingered beneath the surface.
"My work primarily focuses on the higher-risk patients, so today I'll be showing you around those areas of the asylum," Dr. Crane explained, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Alright, shall we get started?" Y/n asked, eager to begin.
"Certainly," Dr. Crane replied, opening the door for Y/n to exit first. She thanked him and stepped into the hallway, where Dr. Crane joined her.
"So, Miss L/n, what led you to Arkham?" Dr. Crane inquired, initiating conversation.
"Well, I studied at Gotham University for five years and managed to get an internship here. It's an opportunity I couldn't pass up," Y/n replied.
Dr. Crane nodded, showing interest. "You're interested in psychology, I assume?"
"Naturally," Y/n confirmed.
"And outside of Arkham, how do you spend your time?" Dr. Crane asked, delving deeper.
Y/n wasn't prepared for such a personal question, and she found herself struggling to formulate an answer. In truth, much of her time was split between intensive research and her activities as a vigilante. "Uh... research mostly," she replied, keeping her answer vague.
"Any specific areas of focus?" Dr. Crane probed further.
"Primarily psychology-related topics, and occasionally delving into articles about various personalities in Gotham," Y/n answered, trying to keep her response casual.
"Ah, the Gotham Rogues, I presume? Have any in particular piqued your interest?" Dr. Crane inquired, his gaze lingering on her as they made their way towards the elevator.
Y/n had been informed by Dr. Young that small talk was rarely on Dr. Crane's agenda, suggesting his continuous questions might stem from a lack of social que. Yet, as a psychiatrist, his understanding of social dynamics should be adept, making his approach puzzling.
"Ah, well... each of them are interesting in their own way, to say the least," Y/n replied, deflecting deflecting to keep the conversation neutral.
Acknowledging her response with a nod, Dr. Crane diverted his eyes ahead, the silence momentarily enveloping them as they approached and entered the elevator. With a practiced motion, he swiped his keycard and selected their destination floor.
The elevator began its descent in silence, the hum of its mechanism filling the small space. Dr. Crane stood with a composed posture, hands clasped behind his back, while Y/n could feel the tension in the air, an undercurrent of unspoken thoughts swirling between them.
After a moment, Dr. Crane broke the silence. "The study of fear is particularly fascinating, don't you think?" he started, his tone measured, eyes fixed on the elevator doors as if addressing the question to himself. "It's primal, yet so complex. A fundamental emotion that can be both a hindrance and a survival mechanism."
Y/n, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation, nodded in agreement. "Yes, it's quite a paradox. It shapes so much of human behavior, yet we understand so little about its underpinnings."
The elevator dinged, announcing their arrival at the high-risk patient floor. As the doors slid open, Dr. Crane stepped out, gesturing for Y/n to follow. "Indeed. And it's within these walls that fear becomes a canvas, each patient painting their own portrait of terror."
The topic of their conversation enveloped Y/n in a sense of unease. While it was natural for a psychiatrist to delve into subjects like fear, given her recent unsettling situation, discussing it now stirred an unwelcome and deep-seated discomfort within her.
They walked through a secured door after Dr. Crane keyed in a code, entering a corridor lined with reinforced glass cells. The patients inside varied in their reactions to the newcomers, some pressed close to observe them, others retreated into shadows, and a few remained indifferent, lost in their own worlds.
"As you'll see today, our approach to treatment varies greatly, tailored to each patient's specific needs and... inclinations," Dr. Crane continued, leading Y/n past the cells. "Observation and understanding is key. Fear can be both a lock and a key in our field."
Y/n felt a chill run down her spine, not just from the atmosphere of the high-risk ward but from Dr. Crane's words. They echoed with a depth of knowledge and an intensity that felt almost too personal, as if fear itself was a familiar friend to him.
As they continued their tour, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that Dr. Crane was studying her just as much as he was explaining the procedures and philosophies of Arkham Asylum. There was a calculated curiosity in his gaze, a probing quality that made her wonder what he saw when he looked at her.
Their footsteps echoed softly as they walked through the corridor, eventually halting in front of a door.
"This," he announced, ushering the door open with a gentle push, "is my office."
Crossing into the new space, Y/n found herself standing somewhat awkwardly, uncertain of what was to come next.
"I have a few patient appointments scheduled today. You'll have the opportunity to observe. But first, there are some reports I need to deal with. I imagine you have tasks of your own to do in the meantime?" he suggested.
With a nod from Y/n, he settled into his chair behind the desk, drawing out several files and a pen. As he began to write, Y/n couldn't help but observe him, a sense of déjà vu washing over her. There was an inexplicable familiarity in his presence that she couldn't quite identify.
Catching her gaze, he looked up, peering over his glasses. "Is there something on your mind?" he asked.
Y/n hesitated for a moment, considering her response carefully. She wasn't sure if she should bring up her recent encounter with the Scarecrow, especially given Dr. Crane's interest in fear and psychology. But something about his demeanor encouraged her to speak up. She cracked it down to the fact that he was around higher risk patients at arkham so he should understand.
Y/n hesitated for a moment, choosing her words carefully. She didn't want to alarm Dr. Crane or reveal too much about her involvement with Gotham's underworld.
"Well, actually..." she began, her voice measured. "I recently had a rather unusual encounter with someone who... operates outside the norms, let's say."
Dr. Crane raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Go on," he prompted, leaning forward slightly.
"There's this... guy," she began, her voice thoughtful. "Who put me in a rather diffucult situation. But instead of leaving me in trouble, this guy… helped me. He claimed that his actions were never intended to inconvenience me, but rather someone else entirely. It's all rather confusing to me."
As she spoke, Dr. Crane listened attentively, his analytical gaze fixed on her. There was a calculating intensity in his eyes that sent a shiver down her spine, but she pushed past it, determined to convey the essence of her experience without divulging too much.
He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers thoughtfully. “Why do you think he wouldn’t have helped you?” he asked.
“Well this... guy... well, he’s not exactly known for his generosity,” Y/n said, choosing her words carefully.
"I see," he murmured, his tone contemplative. "It seems you've had quite the... encounter."
Y/n nodded, relieved that she had managed to convey the situation without revealing too many details.
“Well... what about the situation confuses you?” he asked.
“The fact that he helped me, I just don’t understand it,” Y/n said.
“Had you encountered this individual prior to that?” Dr. Crane inquired.
“Yes, and he wasn’t particularly pleasant,” Y/n replied.
“Perhaps he had a change of heart, felt remorse... or maybe you interested him in some way,” Dr. Crane suggested.
Y/n recognized that Dr. Crane might not offer much assistance, especially since her account was far from the complete truth, but she valued his perspective.
“Yeah... maybe,” she said, considering his viewpoint.
-
The two appointments proceeded smoothly. The first patient was a paranoid individual, tormented by incessant fears of lurking threats in the shadows. As for the second patient was a woman struggling with intense anxiety and recurring nightmares. Dr. Crane navigated through their sessions with his calmness and precision, offering insightful observations and gentle guidance.
As the day progressed, Y/n found herself drawn into the complexities of the patients' minds, witnessing firsthand the challenges they faced and the therapeutic approaches employed by Dr. Crane.
By the end of the day, Y/n felt a newfound respect for Dr. Crane's expertise and a deeper curiosity about the human psyche.
Leaving Arkham, they boarded the Akrham train heading to the city center. "I trust today has been insightful for you," Dr. Crane remarked as they found their seats.
The clatter of the train tracks provided a rhythmic backdrop to their conversation as they settled into their seats. Y/n nodded, reflecting on the day's events. "Definitely," she replied. "It's given me a lot to think about."
Dr. Crane inclined his head, his gaze thoughtful. "Understanding the human mind is a continuous journey, filled with both challenges and revelations," he remarked. "But it's a journey worth undertaking."
Y/n nodded in agreement, absorbing his words. As the train rumbled on, she noticed that her stop was nearing.
"Thank you, Dr. Crane. You've been a really amazing mentor today," Y/n expressed her gratitude.
Dr. Crane nodded, acknowledging her gratitude. "You're welcome, Y/n. If you ever need any guidance or have any questions in the future, feel free to reach out," he said, his tone surprisingly warm.
As the train slowed to a stop at Y/n's station, she gathered her belongings and stood up. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you again," she said, offering a polite smile before stepping off the train.
"Have a safe walk home," Dr. Crane bid farewell as the train doors slid shut.
As she walked away from the station, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of curiosity about Dr. Crane. There was something intriguing about him, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. But for now, she pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the rest of her day ahead.
Alone in the dark, a wave of fear washed over her. Her home was just a ten-minute walk from the station, but after receiving that ominous message yesterday, she felt more uneasy than usual.
The usual nightly weirdos on the street didn't bother her much, no, it was the thought of encountering Scarecrow that sent shivers down her spine.
As she walked, a group of guys stepped out from a dark alley, eyeing her with leering grins. "Hey, sweetheart, looking for some company?" one of them called out, his tone dripping with sleaze.
Y/n rolled her eyes, unimpressed by their attempts to intimidate her. "Sorry, boys, not interested," she replied, quickening her pace.
As they closed in, Y/n sprang into action with lightning speed. In one fluid motion, she lunged towards the nearest assailant, her hands moving with precision. With a swift twist, she disarmed him, the weapon clattering to the ground with a metallic clang.
Before the others could react, Y/n hit him with calculated strikes, each one finding its mark with pinpoint accuracy. With each opponent she incapacitated, the threat diminished, until finally, all that remained was a pile of defeated adversaries at her feet.
Just as she thought the situation was under control, a familiar chill ran down her spine. The dim streetlight cast eerie shadows as Scarecrow emerged from the darkness, his silhouette looming ominously. Y/n's heart raced, her muscles tensing in anticipation.
The air seemed to thicken with tension as Scarecrow's gaze swept over the scene. She braced herself as the Scarecrow raised his hand, expecting the worst. Shielding her face, she awaited the inevitable assault, but instead, she heard screams erupting behind her.
Reluctantly lowering her arms, she turned to witness a man writhing on the ground, his cries echoing through the deserted street beside a discarded firearm. Her gaze snapped back to the Scarecrow, her eyes widening in astonishment.
"One missed," he remarked coolly.
“Scarecrow…” she uttered, caught between greeting him and still processing the situation.
“Y/n,” he acknowledged.
“So...you know my name now,” she remarked, her tone barely masking her worry.
“Would you prefer I call you Batgirl still?” he asked, sarcastically.
“I suppose there’s no point,” Y/n shrugged, conceding to the truth.
Observing him in the dimly lit street, she couldn't help but notice his eerie yet intriguing presence. “Nice suit,” she commented, attempting to break the tension.
“Thank you,” he replied courteously, his mask concealing any expression.
Despite his seemingly benign demeanor, she couldn't shake off her unease about his sudden appearance. “What are you doing here?” she probed cautiously.
“Making sure you got home safely,” he responded matter-of-factly.
“You’re following me?” she questioned, her suspicion growing palpable.
“Looks that way,” he confirmed, his voice protraying no hint of emotion.
“...I’ll be off then,” she stated, turning to head back home.
His footsteps echoed behind her, prompting her to halt and face him. “You’re still here?”
"You don’t think I was just going to leave,” he remarked.
“Then can you at least not stalk behind me?” Y/n requested, her tone surprisingly composed despite her lingering unease.
Closing the distance between them, he fell into step beside her. “You know Batman might find you,” she warned.
“Not tonight, I saw him off chasing the Penguin,” he assured her.
Y/n looked ahead, contemplating their unusual companionship. “So… are you going to hurt me?” she questioned, her voice hinting her vulnerability.
“I didn’t hurt you before, why would I now?” he countered.
“Well, why else are you here?” she pressed, her curiosity piqued.
“It was you that said you’d ‘see me around’,” Scarecrow reminded her.
She recalled their earlier exchange, surprised that he remembered. “I didn’t think you’d remember… or care,” she admitted.
They lapsed into silence for a moment before Y/n broke it. “How did you find me?” she asked the question that was weighing on her mind since she got the note.
“It was coincidence,” Scarecrow replied cryptically.
“Seriously! That's all?” Y/n protested.
“I saw you... and gaining access to you was a simple matter after that,” he explained.
Y/n paused, contemplating the implications of his words.
“Wait, so you mean to say... Did I see you around?” Y/n's curiosity peaked.
Scarecrow's silence spoke volumes, confirming her suspicions. Y/n's mind raced, attempting to pinpoint any instance where she could have crossed paths with Scarecrow during the day, but nothing came to mind.
"You're annoying, you know that? Why can't you just tell me who you are?" Y/n pressed, frustration lacing her words.
"And give you the chance to share with your caped crusader? I think not," Scarecrow retorted with a hint of amusement in his distorted voice.
Y/n scowled, "This is bullshit. What kind of friend are you?"
"Friend?" Scarecrow echoed, a note of mock surprise in his tone.
Realizing she had referred to him as a friend, Y/n hesitated, "Well… I don’t know."
"Considering me a friend? That's rather... optimistic of you," Scarecrow jested.
"You know what? Fuck you," Y/n snapped, pushing him away in annoyance.
Scarecrow's laughter, distorted and chilling, filled the air.
"About that crow yesterday..." Y/n shifted the topic.
"Ah, yes, Craw," Scarecrow interjected.
"Craw... you named your bird after the sound it makes? What are you, five?" Y/n couldn't help but mock his choice.
"Feeling particularly bitey today, aren't we?" Scarecrow remarked with a hint of amusement.
"I'm just pointing out the obvious. You could have called him anything and you settled on 'Craw'? It's like naming a cat 'Meow' or a dog ‘Woof’," Y/n countered.
"I doubt your question was solely to critique my naming choices," Scarecrow deflected, steering the conversation forward.
"So, you have a trained crow... cool," Y/n conceded.
With a snap of his fingers, Scarecrow summoned the crow, which gracefully swooped down to perch on his shoulder.
"Fuck, that’s impressive," Y/n admitted, genuinely taken aback.
"He's a good companion," Scarecrow acknowledged, affectionately caressing the crow's feathered chest.
"And yet, when I mention friendship, I'm desperate?" Y/n teased with a scoff.
"I'm merely taken aback... You haven't even tried to call Batman on me yet," Scarecrow observed.
"Well, if he can have his criminal friend, I don't see why I shouldn't either," Y/n reasoned, thinking about Bruces weird thing with Catwomen.
"It only seems fair," Scarecrow conceded with a nod.
As they approached her apartment complex, Y/n paused and faced Scarecrow.
"I guess this is where I leave you," she remarked, a hint of reluctance in her tone as she gestured towards the looming building of her apartment complex.
Scarecrow tilted his head slightly, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than usual. "Seems so. You'll be safe here, I presume?"
Y/n couldn't help but feel a pang of irony at the question, considering who it was coming from. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks for helping me back there," she quipped, offering him a small, genuine smile.
Scarecrow nodded once, sharply, as if dismissing any need for gratitude. "Take care, Y/n."
With those parting words, he turned and disappeared into the shadows from where he came, leaving Y/n to stare after him for a long moment. Shaking her head slightly, as if to clear it from the surreal encounter, she turned and headed towards her apartment, her mind swirling with thoughts about the night's events and the enigmatic figure that had just left her side.
-
The anticipation for her next encounter with Scarecrow had always been tinged with impatience, but now, there was a distinct shift in her desires. Gone was the sole focus on capturing him, instead, she found herself wanting to talk, even hang out with the guy.
Wandering the corridors of Arkham, her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by an exasperated shout not far from her location. “Damn bird!” echoed off the sterile walls.
Curious, Y/n turned on her heel to investigate. A large bird flying through the hallway, causing a commotion. But this was no ordinary crow, as it swooped closer, she recognized it instantly. Craw, Scarecrow's supposed good companion.
As the crow landed gracefully before her, Y/n crouched down, gently scooping him up. The security guard, panting from the chase, approached with a look of annoyance plastered across his face.
“Stupid bird,” he muttered, reaching out to snatch Craw away.
Y/n, cradling the crow protectively, assured him, “It's fine, I've got this. I'll make sure he's put outside.”
The guard, too worn out to argue further, simply shrugged and departed. Alone now, Y/n shifted her focus to Craw, who seemed quite content in her grasp.
Noticing a piece of paper held in his beak, she gently grabbed it, speaking softly to the crow, “Hey there, pretty. How did you manage to find me here?”
Placing Craw on her shoulder, she unfolded the note.
‘I’ll see you tonight.’
A smile unknowingly crept across her face as she read the message. Shortly after, Craw took flight from her shoulder, darting down the corridor.
“No! Craw, I need to take you outside!” she called after him, her plea falling on deaf ears.
With a resigned sigh, she watched him disappear deeper into the Asylum. “Well, he's someone else's problem now.”
Despite the mild chaos, the note clutched in her hand warmed her heart, igniting a flutter of excitement for what the evening might bring.
-
The walk home felt different for Y/n this evening. Each shadow cast by the dim streetlights seemed to promise the appearance of Scarecrow, echoing his note that said they would meet again. With every step, her anticipation grew, turning each corner with a mix of eagerness and anxiety, expecting to find him waiting in the familiar alley where their paths often crossed. But tonight, the alley remained empty.
The silence of the alleyway, usually filled with the tension of their encounters, now hung heavy with disappointment. She lingered for a moment, scanning the shadows and empty spaces where he might have stood, half-hoping for the rustle of his coat or the soft click of his approach. But there was nothing. Just the quiet of the night and the distant hum of the city.
As she continued her walk home, the excitement that had quickened her steps faded into a dull ache of letdown. Thoughts raced through her mind, pondering why he hadn't appeared. Had something happened to him? Had Batman managed to intervene?
Reaching her apartment, Y/n couldn't shake the sense of solitude that enveloped her. Inside, the quiet of her home only amplified her disappointment. With a heavy sigh, Y/n resigned herself to the evening's solitude, dropping onto her bed.
As she lay in the quiet of her room, Y/n found herself wrestling with thoughts that mocked her for entertaining the idea of a friendship with someone as complex and dangerous as Scarecrow. How could she, grounded in her own principles and duties, truly expect to build a connection with a figure who thrived in the shadows, a master of fear?
Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a thump against her window. Startled, she glanced up, only to find the familiar silhouette of a crow striking the glass. Hurrying over, she opened the window, allowing Craw to flutter into the room. Peering out the window, her pulse quickened at the sight below.
Scarecrow stood on the ground, gazing up at her with his usual get-up.
"May I come up?" his voice floated up to her.
Without hesitation, she swung onto the fire escape, releasing the ladder for him. As he ascended, a mixture of surprise and anticipation filled her.
"Why are you here?" she inquired, as he stepped through the window into her room.
"I said I'd see you tonight," he replied.
"I thought you’d just walk me home," she admitted, a smile playing on her lips despite herself.
"Indeed, I intended to, but I was held up," Scarecrow said, his voice carrying a touch of regret.
Inside her room, with the city's night as their backdrop, she couldn't help but jest, "So, the man behind the mask has a life?"
Scarecrow chuckled below the mask, “That I do.”
Now settled in her room, Y/n found a comfortable spot on her bed, her back resting gently against the headboard.
With a curious tilt of her head, she ventured, "Could I possibly hear more about the man beneath the mask?"
He hesitated for a moment before answering, "I was caught up at work, actual work, something that required my immediate attention."
This prompted Y/n to recall her little interaction with his crow eariler. "Speaking of work, how did you manage to send Craw into Arkham?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Let's just say he found his way through a window," he replied,criptically.
Scarecrow chose a spot at the foot of her bed, directly opposite her, and gracefully seated himself. Craw saw it as an opportunity to hopped onto his thigh, finding comfort in his familiar presence.
As they sat in Y/n's room, the silence between them was palpable. Y/n couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. Curiosity, apprehension, and a strange sense of comfort in Scarecrow's presence. She studied him closely, trying to decipher the man, but his expression remained hidden.
"So, what really brings you here tonight?" Y/n finally broke the silence, her voice betraying a hint of nervousness.
Scarecrow glanced at her, his gaze piercing. "I wanted to check on you," he replied simply.
Y/n raised an eyebrow, skeptical of his intentions. "Check on me?" she echoed, searching his face for any hint of deception.
"Yes," Scarecrow affirmed, his tone unwavering. "After our encounter the other night, I thought I should make sure you're okay."
Y/n's initial skepticism softened slightly, replaced by a flicker of surprise. Despite their strange relationship, Scarecrow's concern for her well-being was unexpected.
"I'm fine," Y/n reassured him, offering a small smile. "But why go through the trouble? You're not exactly known for your kindness."
Scarecrow's lips quirked into a faint smile, the gesture almost imperceptible. "Perhaps I'm not as one-dimensional as you think," he remarked.
Y/n's curiosity piqued at his response, but before she could delve further, there was a sudden knock on her apartment door.
“Y/n? I called you but you didn’t answer,” it was Bruce.
The sudden interruption sent Y/n's heart racing, a surge of panic flooding her as she heard Bruce's voice through the door. She momentarily froze, realizing the difficult situation she was in. Glancing frantically at Scarecrow, she leaped into action, her movements swift and desperate.
"Under the bed, now!" she hissed, urgency lacing her whisper as she practically shoved Scarecrow towards the hiding spot.
Without hesitation, Scarecrow complied, slipping under the bed. No sooner had he vanished from sight than Y/n dashed to the apartment's entrance, her mind racing with excuses.
"Hey, Bruce, sorry about that. My phone's been on silent, what’s up?" she managed to say with a feigned nonchalance as she swung the door open, greeting him with a practiced casualness.
"I said I'd swing by to check on you. Everything's been okay lately?" Bruce asked, stepping past the threshold with a concerned glance.
"Yep, all good here," Y/n replied, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
Y/n found herself desperately seeking a solution that wouldn't raise Bruce's suspicions, yet every moment he lingered increased the risk of Scarecrow's presence unmasking Bruce's own secret identity. Trapped between a rock and a hard place, she was at a loss, her mind racing for a strategy that seemed increasingly elusive.
Then, an ominous thump from her bedroom shattered the tense silence, causing her heart to plummet into her stomach.
"What was that?" Bruce's voice sharpened with alertness, his instinctive concern prompting him to move toward the source of the sound.
Y/n's anxiety reached it’s limits until, unexpectedly, a voice came from her bedroom. "Y/n? Who's at the door?" It was unmistakably Scarecrow, yet his voice was stripped of its usual menacing distortion, sounding disarmingly normal.
Panic painted Y/n's face with a stark shade of horror, a silent scream at the realization of her rapidly unraveling situation. However, Bruce's reaction took a turn Y/n hadn't anticipated. His expression, initially furrowed with concern, smoothly transitioned into an amused smirk.
"I didn't realize you had company. I'll leave you to your...guest," he said, his voice laced with an uncharacteristic lightness.
In that moment, Y/n's dread shifted to a baffling sense of relief to mild embarrassment. The flush of embarrassment that crept up Y/n's cheeks. The implication in Bruce's assumption that her "guest" was there for reasons more intimate was mortifying, yet it was a far more palatable scenario than him suspecting the presence of a notorious criminal in her bedroom.
"U-uh, yeah, sorry," she managed, her voice a mix of awkwardness and gratitude as she escorted Bruce to the door.
Pausing at the threshold, Bruce turned back to her, his expression lightly amused. "Have a good night," he said, his voice carrying a hint of jest before he delivered a playful wink and departed.
As Y/n closed the door behind him, a wave of relief washed over her, tinged with a lingering embarrassment. As Y/n reentered her bedroom, her gaze fell upon Craw, who had perched on the shelf by her door.
"Are you still hiding under my bed?" she asked, her knees pressing against the cool floor as she peered under the bed.
There he was, Scarecrow, his frame stretched out beneath her bed, an unexpected sight that was oddly endearing. "Yeah," came his muffled reply.
"It's safe to come out now," she assured him, her voice lifting with a mix of relief and warmth.
As Scarecrow emerged, his presence seemed to fill the room. "What was that thumping sound?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.
"Craw decided the door looked interesting," Scarecrow quipped, a hint of affection for the mischief-maker in his tone.
Y/n's eyes darted to Craw, her expression one of mock frustration. "You bloody bird!" she growled, though the crow seemed preoccupied with scratching his wing with his beak.
"And thank you, by the way. My heart nearly stopped when he headed towards my room," she admitted, her hands finding their way to her hips.
"Who was that, if I may ask?" Scarecrow's curiosity was evident, his head tilted.
"A friend," she answered simply.
"Just a friend?" he probed further, an edge of something playful in his voice.
"Jealous?" Y/n teased, a light chuckle escaping her.
"Should I be?" he parried, his voice laced with amusement.
Y/n's laughter filled the room, a sound of genuine amusement. "Bruce is just a friend. Though now he probably thinks I've got a secret lover stashed in here," she said, the humor in her situation not lost on her.
"Bruce? As in-" Scarecrow started, only for Y/n to jump in.
"Bruce Wayne? Yes," she confirmed, closing the loop on his thought.
"I would've expected the Batman, not Bruce Wayne," he mused, his voice carrying a note of mock disappointment.
"Batman wouldn’t bother with the front door, that’s for sure," Y/n laughed.
Y/n chuckled, her fingers idly tracing patterns on her bedspread. "So, did you... you know, take off the mask when you called out?" she asked.
Scarecrow's response was matter-of-fact. "Well, yeah. I don’t know if you can tell, but my voice isn’t naturally distorted," he pointed out.
Y/n's playful pout betrayed her teasing tone. "That's not fair! My room got to see your face before I did!" she exclaimed, feigning offense.
"Your room is quite the lucky spectator," he remarked, his tone filled with amusement.
"I bet you won’t show me cause you’re insecure," Y/n teased with a playful glint in her eye.
Scarecrow tilted his head. "Or perhaps I prefer the mystery. Keeps things interesting, doesn't it?" His voice was muffled slightly by the fabric covering his features.
Y/n laughed, shaking her head. "Interesting for you, maybe. I'm just sitting here guessing if you're secretly a model or if you've got a face only a mother could love."
"Guess you'll just have to keep wondering," he replied.
The room fell into a comfortable silence, filled only by the soft rustling of Craw shifting on his perch. Y/n found herself studying Scarecrow, trying to glean any hint of the man behind the mask from his posture, his movements, even the way he spoke. There was an undeniable curiosity bubbling within her, a desire to know more about the mysterious figure who'd become an unexpected constant in her life.
As the night wore on, their conversation flowed, ranging from trivial banter to more serious discussions about their contrasting views of the city they both operated in. Despite their differences, Y/n felt a strange sense of kinship with Scarecrow, a connection forged in the unlikeliest of circumstances.
Eventually, Y/n yawned, the lateness of the hour catching up to her. Scarecrow noticed, standing up from where he had been sitting. "I should go," he said, his voice carrying a note of reluctance.
Y/n nodded, feeling an unexpected twinge of disappointment at the thought of him leaving. "Yeah, I guess it's getting late."
As Scarecrow moved toward the window, Y/n called out, "Will I see you again?"
He paused at the window, turning slightly to look at her. "I'm sure you will," he said, a hint of a smile in his voice.
And with that, he slipped out into the night with Craw flying after him, leaving Y/n with a mix of emotions and the lingering thrill of their conversation.
-
After two calm weeks, Bruce finally agreed to Y/n resuming her nightly endeavors alongside him. Although he harbored lingering doubts about Scarecrow, Y/n managed to clam his concerns, assuring him that Scarecrow would not pose a threat.
As Y/n and Batman moved stealthily through the Narrows, the dense fog seemed to cloak their presence further, blending them into the night. This part of Gotham, with its tight alleys and towering buildings, felt like a world entirely its own.
"Keep your guard up," Batman whispered, his voice barely carrying over the mist. "The Narrows are unpredictable."
Y/n nodded, her senses on high alert. The Narrows always had a way of keeping you on your toes, its residents too used to the shadows. But tonight, there was an odd stillness, as if the very air was holding its breath.
Suddenly, Batman stiffened, his head tilting slightly, the universal sign that he was receiving a communication through the cowl's integrated comms. Y/n watched him, waiting for instructions, knowing that whatever had just come through could very well dictate their next move.
After a moment, Batman turned to her, the glow from the city behind him casting a shadow over his face. "Riddler's causing trouble downtown. I need to go now."
"I'll stay here. Keep an eye on things," she offered, already mentally preparing to handle the Narrows alone.
Batman nodded, a silent message of trust and confidence in her abilities. "Be careful," he said before grappling away, disappearing into the night sky.
Alone now, Y/n felt the weight of the silence around her. The Narrows, with its whispering shadows and secrets, suddenly seemed even more foreboding. She took a deep breath, centering herself. This was her domain too, her responsibility.
"Thought he’d never leave," came a voice below her, drawing her attention downward.
As Y/n leaned over the edge of the rooftop. To her surprise, Scarecrow stood on the balcony below, his figure illuminated by the faint glow of the city lights.
"You've been here the whole time?" Y/n exclaimed, taken aback by his sudden appearance.
"I've been waiting inside. The place was abandoned," Scarecrow replied calmly, gesturing towards the building behind him.
Y/n hopped down from the rooftop, landing gracefully on the balcony beside him.
"Wow, Batman and I need to step up our game," she remarked, impressed by Scarecrow's stealth.
"Haven’t seen you as Batgirl in a while," Scarecrow noted, his gaze lingering on her.
"Yeah, thanks to you. I was sidelined. Batman thought you were gonna go after me," Y/n explained, a hint of frustration in her voice.
"Keeping you safe. Wise man," Scarecrow replied cryptically, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
Y/n chuckled, shaking her head. "More like overprotective," she whined.
Y/n could hear Scarecrow smirk behind the mask. "He has reason to be. You're not exactly easy to replace."
Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. "Flattery will get you nowhere," she teased.
"Where's Craw?" Y/n asked, looking around.
"Is my presence not enough for you?" Scarecrow teased.
Y/n side-eyed him, and Scarecrow chuckled. "He's back at my lab."
Scarecrow leaned against the balcony railing, his gaze scanning the darkened streets below. "So, what's the plan now? Are you patrolling solo?"
Y/n nodded. "Looks like it. Batman got called away to deal with Riddler downtown."
Scarecrow hummed in response. "Well then, I guess it's just you and me tonight."
Y/n raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in her expression. "You planning on causing any trouble?"
Scarecrow chuckled, shaking his head. "Not tonight."
They fell into an easy silence, the sounds of the city filling the air around them. Despite the darkness that surrounded them, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with Scarecrow, an unexpected ally in the night.
Y/n cast a sidelong glance at Scarecrow, noting the unusual cleanliness of his attire. "Not the usual tattered suit?" she pointed out.
Scarecrow glanced down at his suit. "Well, one has to look clean to impress," he replied, glazing at her.
"I'm sure Batman doesn't mind how you look," Y/n quipped, a playful glint in her eye.
Y/n leaned her back against the balcony railing, her gaze meeting Scarecrow's with a hint of mischief.
"Although, I must admit, the rugged look suits you," she teased, a sly smile playing on her lips.
Scarecrow chuckled softly, his gaze meeting hers with a spark of amusement. "Is that so? Perhaps I should stick to the tattered aesthetic then," he countered, his tone laced with flirtatiousness.
Y/n's laughter rang out across the night sky, the sound mixing with the distant hum of the city below. "You do you, Scarecrow. Just don't expect me to swoon over every torn thread," she replied, a playful glimmer dancing in her eyes.
Scarecrow leaned in slightly, his voice lowering to a whisper. "Ah, but what if I told you I have a whole wardrobe of tattered suits just waiting to impress you?"
Y/n chuckled, her heart fluttering at the playful tone in Scarecrow's voice. "Just for me? Scandalous.”
"Well, if torn threads won't do the trick, I'll have to find another way to catch your eye." Scarecrow added.
Y/n raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. "Oh? And what approach are you planning to take?"
He leaned in even closer, his gaze locking with hers. "I suppose I'll have to rely on my charming wit and irresistible charm," he replied, his tone filled with playful confidence.
Y/n chuckled, the sound light and melodious in the night air. "Smooth talker, are we?" she teased, her own playful demeanor matching his.
Scarecrow's grin widened, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Only when I'm in good company," he admitted, his voice softening slightly as he held her gaze.
Y/n's cheeks flushed at his words, her gaze lingering on his captivating eyes. "You certainly know how to flatter a girl," she teased, unable to suppress the flutter of excitement building within her.
Scarecrow chuckled softly, the sound sending a thrill through Y/n. "Only because you make it so easy," he murmured, his gaze holding hers with an intensity that left her breathless.
"If I weren't on duty, I might have been tempted to steal a kiss from you right here," she teased, her fingers playfully tugging at his noose.
With a wink, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the abandoned apartment, leaving Scarecrow to ponder her words.
"You never know, the night is young," he remarked, his voice laced with playful innuendo.
"Oh, but I could never kiss a man whose face I've never seen," Y/n remarked.
"Oh, but the mystery adds to the allure, don't you think?" Scarecrow countered.
Scarecrow chuckled, the sound echoing in the dimly lit room. "Who says you haven't seen it before?"
Y/n halted in her tracks, her eyes widening in surprise as she turned back to face him.
"So, I have actually seen you before?" she asked eagerly.
Scarecrow nodded, a hint of amusement in his demeanor. "Yes, indeed," he confirmed.
Her excitement grew, and she leaned in closer. "Did we talk?" she pressed.
"We did," he replied, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his lips.
Her disbelief turned into sheer astonishment. "Oh my god! Seriously? Can you tell me more?" she exclaimed.
"We had quite a conversation, and we crossed paths a few times afterward," Scarecrow disclosed.
Y/n racked her brain, trying to recall any details, but she was drawing a blank. Feeling frustrated and a little foolish for not making the connection, she sighed. Despite now knowing what he sounded like without the mask, she still couldn't piece it together.
"Holy fuck! That's incredible!" Y/n exclaimed, laughter bubbling up from within her. "Can you give me just a tiny hint about what you look like?" Y/n pleaded.
"Sorry, but that would spoil the fun," Scarecrow replied.
Y/n persisted, "Well, do you at least know if I find you attractive?"
"Why do you want to know that?" Scarecrow questioned.
"Because it might have to kiss you after all," Y/n teased.
Scarecrow considered her words before responding, "...I don’t know. You didn't seem particularly impressed when you saw me, you were just a bit awkward at first. But to be fair, so was I."
There was a hint of vulnerability in his tone, though Y/n couldn't be sure. "Perhaps my awkwardness was due to the fact I was starstruck?" she offered playfully.
Scarecrow sounded unconvinced. "Unlikely," he countered gently.
"Or… could it be because my attention was already captivated by someone else? Maybe a certain Scarecrow?" Y/n teased, aiming to lighten his spirits.
Scarecrow's demeanor shifted, his voice tinged with defensiveness. "Why the sudden interest, Batgirl? You've never shown any feelings towards me before. What's changed?" he asked.
Y/n found herself confused by the unfolding situation. When had she begun to flirt with Scarecrow, and why was she so invested in making him believe she was romantically interested? Whenever this change occurred, she didn’t mind it.
"Woah. You started this, and don't act as if you weren't flirting with me too," Y/n retorted.
Scarecrow's tone never softened, his eyes narrowing as he studied Y/n's face. "And if I was? What are your intentions, Y/n?" he asked.
"I don’t know! I was just bantering, playing along… what were your intentions then? How do I know you're not just leading me on so you can gas me again?" Y/n retorted, turning the tables on him.
This clearly offended Scarecrow. "You know it was an accident."
"Do I?" Y/n challenged.
Scarecrow's expression softened, a hint of regret in his eyes. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he said quietly.
Y/n felt a pang of sympathy. "I know," she replied softly.
They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their conversation hanging in the air. Eventually, Y/n spoke up again. "Look, I didn't mean to upset you."
"Look, I didn't mean to upset you," Y/n said, her tone sincere.
Scarecrow took a deep breath, visible even through his attire. "And I apologize if I seemed defensive. It wasn't my intention."
Their eyes met, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Both were treading uncharted waters, neither sure of where the current would take them but willing to navigate it together.
"So, I've been meaning to ask," Y/n began, again with the playfulness in her voice, "do you wear contacts?"
Scarecrow tilted his head slightly, "Prescription ones, yes."
"But not colored?" she probed further.
"No, why do you ask?" Scarecrow's response carried a mix of curiosity and amusement.
Y/n's tone softened, warmth seeping into her words, "It's just that... you have really pretty eyes."
"Again with the flattery?" Scarecrow teased.
"It's just the truth," Y/n replied with a grin.
"And here I was thinking I might get a kiss," Scarecrow joked.
Y/n chuckled, shaking her head, "I told you, I’m not going to kiss a man I don’t know."
Scarecrow shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes, "That’s a shame."
The distant wail of sirens interrupted their banter.
"I should probably leave now," Scarecrow remarked.
"Yeah… see you later?" Y/n said, a hopeful note in her voice.
"Count on it. Until then... See you at Arkham," Scarecrow said, disappearing into the night.
Y/n's mind raced to piece together the puzzle he had inadvertently presented her. It took a moment for the realization to sink in, but when it did, her heart skipped a beat.
"Wait a minute!" she called out, but it was futile, Scarecrow was already gone.
Her mind buzzed with newfound clarity. Tall, lanky, formal speech, glasses, and now, a connection to Arkham. It all clicked into place with a sudden jolt of realization. How had she not seen it before?
"Holy fuck," Y/n breathed, her pulse quickening.
The pieces of the puzzle were finally falling into place, revealing a truth she couldn't ignore. Scarecrow... was someone from Arkham. And in that moment, a single name echoed in her mind with chilling clarity.
The conversations they'd shared, the topics they'd discussed, all pointed to one undeniable truth. His fascination with fear, his strange approach to their encounters, it was all too familiar now.
The memory of their first meeting flooded back, and suddenly, it made perfect sense. The shock on his face, the careful choice of words. It was Dr. Crane, right before her eyes.
Y/n couldn't believe she hadn't seen it sooner. How had she missed the signs? How had she not recognized the man behind the mask all along?
Now faced with this newfound knowledge, Y/n was at a crossroads. Should she maintain the facade of ignorance, carrying on as if nothing had changed? Or should she confront Dr. Crane, acknowledging the truth that lay between them? And what about the promise she'd made, the playful banter about kissing him. Was it all just a game, or did it hold deeper significance now?
One thing was certain, she couldn't risk revealing her discovery to Bruce. As she grappled with these thoughts, Y/n resolved to tread carefully, to navigate this delicate situation with caution. The truth had been revealed, but its aftermath remained to be seen.
-
Throughout the morning, Y/n felt restless as she awaited her encounter with Dr. Crane. Stuck in Dr. Young's office sorting files, she impatiently waited for the opportunity to find him.
As soon as she finished with the files, Y/n swiftly stored them away and left the office, determined to seek out Dr. Crane in the secure section of Arkham.
As Y/n made her way through the corridors of Arkham, her mind raced with anticipation. She had been waiting for this moment, hoping to confront Dr. Crane. Suddenly, she spotted him in the distance, his figure unmistakable amidst the gloom. Their eyes locked, and she saw a hint of amusement in his expression, as if he knew she was coming.
Her heart skipped a beat. Feeling a surge of determination, Y/n hastened her steps, closing the gap between them with purpose. As she reached Dr. Crane, she grabbed his arm firmly, surprising him with her sudden boldness. His smirk widened slightly, betraying a mixture of surprise and curiosity at her actions.
Without uttering a word, Y/n tugged him along, leading him towards his office. Dr. Crane offered little resistance, seemingly taken aback by Y/n's assertiveness. As they entered the office, Y/n swiftly closed the door behind them and turned the key in the lock, sealing them inside.
"You sly motherfucker," Y/n breathed out.
Entwining her fingers in his hair, she drew him closer, her lips crashing against his in a fiery embrace. The kiss ignited a whirlwind of emotions, fueled by pent-up desire and the thrill of discovery.
Caught off guard by Y/n's sudden boldness, Dr. Crane hesitated for a moment before surrendering to the intoxicating allure of her kiss. His hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer as the intensity of the moment enveloped them both.
For a fleeting moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in their own private universe of passion and longing. But as the kiss deepened, an obnoxious buzz interrupted the moment, reminding them of their surroundings.
Reluctantly breaking the kiss, Y/n and Dr. Crane gazed into each other's eyes, a mixture of surprise and desire reflected in their expressions.
"I... I didn't expect..." Dr. Crane began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words.
Y/n's heart raced as she searched his eyes for any sign of regret or hesitation. But instead, she found a spark of something else, a glimmer of longing and vulnerability that mirrored her own.
"I'm sorry," Y/n whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "I just couldn't resist."
She noticed a blush creeping up Dr. Crane’s cheeks as he adjusted his glasses.
"Am I fogging up your glasses?" Y/n teased.
Dr. Crane chuckled nervously. "Not disappointed, I see," he replied, his tone unable to hide his embarrassment.
Y/n smiled, her eyes twinkling with affection. "Now, I could never be disappointed in my Scarecrow," she said, her words filled with warmth.
Dr. Crane's blush deepened at the endearing nickname, but he tried to maintain his composure. "I hope you don't go around kissing all your superiors," he joked, attempting to deflect the attention.
Y/n grinned mischievously. "Just you, Dr. Crane," she said, her tone teasing yet sincere.
Dr. Crane's lips curled into a soft smile at her response. "Seeing as circumstances change, you can call me Jonathan," he offered, his voice tinged with newfound intimacy.
"Well, Jonathan… I'm glad to finally know the man behind the mask," Y/n said with a smile.
"You better not go off telling your bat friend about this," Jonathan warned playfully.
"And lose my nighttime companion? No way," Y/n retorted, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Jonathan chuckled at her response. Y/n’s eyes drifted to the closed office door.
“We should probably be getting back to work now," Y/n said, a hint of reluctance in her voice.
"We should, yes..." Jonathan began, his gaze lingering on her. "But I've never been one to follow the rules too closely," he added, drawing her closer into his embrace.
Y/n chuckled softly, realizing she wouldn't be leaving the office anytime soon. With a smile on her lips and a newfound connection in her heart, Y/n embraced the unpredictable journey ahead, knowing that whatever was between them was going to be complicated. But as Jonathan's lips met hers once more, Y/n felt a rush of exhilaration, realizing that wouldn’t want it any other way.
-
A/N: Thank you so much for the request 💚
I really did enjoy writing this fic, enemies hit differently when it's in superhero fics and I love it.
Even with the fic being 15k long, I wasn't sure how to make them 'lovers', so I ended up just making them playfully flirt and just turn it into real attraction cause...slay. So yeah, it's a bit fast paced but I am still happy with what I've written and I hope yous are too :)
It took me quite a while to write as I've just been so busy with Uni and work lately, finding time between has been difficult.
Thank you again and I hope you enjoyed 💚
#fanfic#jonathan crane#jonathan crane fanfic#jonathan crane x reader#dc scarecrow#cillian murphy scarecrow#batman scarecrow#the scarecrow#scarecrow#scarecrow x batgirl#batgirl#reader is batgirl#scarecrow x reader
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another one of these posts lol... sketches vs final. not much changed for these ones, i kind of went into them with a very solid mental image already in my head. all of these were done start to finish in procreate
thoughts below the cut
horse fight .... this is based off a really really beautiful sky i saw while driving home one evening. i'm really proud of getting the colours i saw exactly right, this kind of greenish yellow fading to dark blue and with grey clouds low over it that looked very dark against the yellow by the horizon, but very pale against the dark blue.
i thought it would be a cool backdrop to draw a scene i've been thinking about for a while. The little cartoony horses are there to provide some tonal whiplash but also because these are two immortal shapeshifters who can fight violently without it being a huge deal. the little horses represent the actual gravity of the fight (that is, kind of a slap fight between two drama queens) which contrasts with the visuals of two animals brutally tearing at eachother. also i got the two horses at the bottom mixed up, Pascal is the one with the skinny plumed tail and Macha has a more traditional horse tail and i put them on the wrong sides.
i had a LOT of trouble shading this. i didn't want the horses to be too shiny but that meant a much lower contrast in shading and even with my screen brightness turned up i could barely see what i was doing. but i wanted it to read as realistic. mixed results i think. if i did it again i might try a different shading style because this one didn't really do it for me
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spooky van!!! the post i deleted by accident (rip. i will repost it soon). this is a picture of the barrow (the field) taking a different shape - in this case a cool van. the van contains every single thing the field does (including the human victims that get lost in there...) but compressed down into a manageable shape. the void is Pascal because the field is inside him. he did this for his human bf to provide novel way to travel through the Otherworld. don't ask how this works like, spatially, because the answer is: i don't do hard magic systems in this setting
i loooove shading things with pencil hatching and i really like contrasting it with smooth colours/shading so that's mainly what i did here. it was simple enough. the van is of course heavily referenced and i wish i had been able to stylise it a little more.. maybe next time. i want to draw a kind of cutaway illustration of the van showing exterior and interior (like an old blueprint schematic), which i might use as a cover for the book/comic/whatever but that will require a very intimidating level of precision so i think i'll work up to that.
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RUA magazine. this is my third time doing a rua magazine cover (first time posting tho). this is an in-universe magazine distributed throughout the Otherworld to an audience of fairies. in the sketch, the illustation was originally the King of Pentacles tarot card (the pentacle being the disco ball). but i decided to make a different King of Pentacles card for him instead, since I try hard to move away from symmetrical composition for the tarot cards (it's boring). so i repurposed this one into another magazine cover. like i said Pascal is a self-absorbed attention whore and has a habit of giving bullshit interviews just so that he can be on the cover as much as possible. he dresses like this all the time (the year is 2017)
the disco ball took 15 years off my life and it's not even the first disco ball i've drawn! i finished my actual king of pentacles card before i finished the rua cover sketch, so i can show u this
which is much better even if i did reference so heavily that it isn't exactly stylised. but this card needs some serious revision before i even think about posting it. i'm just not happy with his face.
original intent was for it be mysterious with emphasis on the neon lights but it ended up far more suggestive than i expected. that's life!
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Okay so im curious. As someone who has dyed their own hair many a time and knows intimately how hard it is to get bright colors in dark hair, does danny bleach his hair before he puts the red in? This was the au where no one will accept that he died and that his core is part of him now, so does he use his phantom form? If he doesn't, does his hair just eventually stop growing back black? If he does use phantom, does the dye job effect what color his hair is in it?
Im so fucking interested in the mechanics of how he got it to be so red.
Also: how old is he in this?
So there's deff a little ghost going on and some comic/cartoon magic lol, but he does bleach it!
Danny stared at his hair in the mirror of the school locker room he had snuck into. He hadn’t even gotten inside in a ghostly way, he had just walked in as school was letting out and hid until everyone left. Now the school was quiet and dark in way that was frankly a little terrifying.
He was hoping his powers would help him get back out when he needed them to. They weren’t exactly… reliable yet.
They also wouldn’t help him fix his hair. Bleaching it had been… well, a success, Danny guessed. No one would recognize him now. No one would even want to look at him for long. His once black hair was now a sickly sort of greenish blond. The spot of white somehow made the rest of it look even worse by comparison. Danny really couldn’t just let it stay like this. People would ask even more questions if he went around looking like a half done dye job.
Which also answers, yes, he does use his powers! The more he does the better he feel and the less the ghostliness spreads into his living form. I'm not sure by the time he gets to Gotham how much of his hair is still black. It might only be the bottom part which is why he shaves it closer.
I am very tempted to have it effect his ghost coloring to, play into much of the ghost form being mental.
Age wise? er... 14-17. I'm not sure yet! I think maybe 15 but masked up and with practice he comes across more at 16 or a baby faced 17.
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you with the dark curls (you with the watercolor eyes)
part ii: i wanna hear you speak to me
james potter x reader // read it on AO3
word count: 3.6k
summary: “Falling in love with your best friend was never a good idea, but you’d managed to do the idiot thing anyway, carrying a torch for a boy who would never look past Lily’s emerald eyes to see the watercolor ones that had always been by his side.”
tags: best friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, based on the song "dear arkansas daughter" by lady lamb, fem!reader
author's notes: new year, new chapter! i started writing this one back in SEPTEMBER and finally had enough time away from the terrors of calculus homework to finish it. thanks for reading my story so far and i hope you enjoy this incredibly self-indulgent chapter, because i had way too much fun writing it!! i promise that the angst in this chapter *will* be resolved, but it was too deliciously tempting to resist sprinkling a wee bit of hurt/comfort and dramatics in there as well. sorry not sorry!
read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii (coming soon!)
“I’ve got no bloody clue how Dumbledore can be so energetic all the time,” you groaned, head in your hands as you peeked out at the headmaster’s more-than-slightly manic grin from your seat at the Gryffindor breakfast table. You were far too sleep-deprived to process his latest choice of garish attire: a bright chartreuse robe covered in plaid polka dots, topped off with what appeared to be rhinestones and tinsel attached to his beard.
Perhaps if Kettleburn hadn’t assigned you three feet of parchment on the seventeen glorious properties of dragon dung yesterday and expected it done by this afternoon, you might have appreciated the headmaster’s creative fashion choices– oh, who were you kidding. There really was no understanding that wizard, even properly rested. James and Peter had made a bet during fifth year on how long it’d take Dumbledore to crack under a constant deluge of pranks in his office, but they’d quickly realized that the man was too far gone to do anything but take inspiration for school events– an idea that was quite frankly, comically frightening, and the sort of thing you weren’t keen on pondering on a normal Tuesday morning.
Sirius wrinkled his nose sympathetically and slid the pile of raspberry jam tarts closer to you. “Late night in the library again?”
You nodded sheepishly, gratefully taking a pastry from the pile. “I honestly don’t know why Pince allows me to stay past curfew. Marauder’s luck, I guess?” Your attention was diverted by the sound of hoots and flapping wings as the morning owl brigade arrived, apparently choosing a kamikaze dive-bomb approach to deliver this morning’s newspapers. Ah, the joys of living at the world’s most advanced magical school.
Sirius, ever the epitome of grace, slipped under the table as a rogue owl zipped past, popping himself back up just enough to throw you finger guns. “Exactly right, doll, exactly right,” he grinned. “Trust me, Marauder’s luck gets you everywhere. And I mean everywhere,” he winked, sending you a lecherous smirk.
“Ew, Sirius, I don’t even want to know,” you sniffed. “I’ve learned my lesson after the mental trauma your tales of Dorcas’ birthday adventures inflicted upon my psyche. Please, spare me the details.”
“What? All I meant was Slughorn’s Christmas Party, of course!” He batted his eyelashes angelically, still partially covered by the tablecloth.
Your mouth gaped open in shock. “Last year’s Christmas party? Sirius Orion Black, I refuse to hear another word! What on earth would your ancestors think, with you bragging about such exploits-”
He leaned over, eyes wide with laughter. “No, I meant the one Slughorn is throwing on the 21st, it’s exclusively for us lucky seventh years this time. Although, you bring up some very fond memories… okay, okay, I’ll stop, don’t kick me–”
“What are we kicking Sirius for?” James slid onto the bench across from you, eyeing a groveling Sirius with interest. Peter joined him, but wisely chose to stay away from the ruckus, piling his plate high with the bacon the owls had spared. Remus was noticeably absent, spending the morning resting in the infirmary after a rough night of shifting– which you assumed was much more peaceful than the current chaos at the Gryffindor breakfast table.
“Oh! Good morning, Jamie,” you beamed up at him, passing him the plate of desserts you’d been protecting from Sirius’ nefarious advances. “Morning, dove,” he greeted you, and then paused. “Ha, get it? Morning dove?” He puffed up his chest smugly and nudged Sirius with his elbow in a futile effort to make him laugh. You huffed fondly at his antics. Boys.
Sirius rolled his eyes and took advantage of your momentary distraction, retreating back onto his seat to nurse his wounds– to your ever-growing delight (and Sirius’ woe), you had recently discovered that the Hogwarts girls’ uniform shoes were quite sharp. “At this point we should call you Lames. ‘Cause your puns are lame,” he muttered.
You shooed him away with a brush of your hand, remembering what Sirius had mentioned earlier. “According to Sirius, Slughorn’s hosting a Christmas Party again this year. Let’s pray it won’t be like the last one.” You muttered. James and Peter both looked vaguely ill at the prospect, shuddering in unison. “My tie will never look the same again,” Peter griped, but suddenly sat up straight in his seat. “Hey, wait, we’re finally old enough to bring dates to this one! Without sneaking them in, I mean.”
Sirius snickered and lightly punched his shoulder. “Why, Petey, got some lucky girl in mind?” Peter reddened and glanced over at the Hufflepuff table, where a certain freckled blonde was chatting with her friends– a move that didn’t go unnoticed by James, who gave a delighted wolf-whistle. “You got a thing for Lucy Abbott, huh? Might want to make a move before Smith does,” he grinned, gesturing to the tall brunette boy who’d just arrived and sharing a knowing smirk with you. You giggled at Peter’s increasingly pouty expression; he’d figure out sooner or later that Smith was definitely not interested in Abbott– or witches in general– but it was entertaining to see him out of his comfort zone. Peter had always been the quietest of your little group, and you privately thought that a bit of momentary romantic angst might spur him to be more assertive. An ironic opinion, considering how your own love life revolved around the fact that your best friend had feelings for someone else… and you couldn’t do anything about it except mope.
Peter scowled. “Easy for you to say, Prongs, you’ve finally got precious Lily-flower wrapped around your finger. I bet you’ve already asked her!”
There it was: another reminder that James wasn’t yours, and never would be. You watched as the Gryffindor boys good-naturedly jostled his shoulder and tousled his curls. James grinned sheepishly, shrugging off their teasing. “Not yet,” he admitted, glancing hopefully at the end of the table, where Lily was chatting with her friends.
Peter rolled his eyes. “Aw, come on, we all know she’ll say yes this year.” Sirius winced, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. Peter glanced at Sirius, drawn by the movement. “What’ve you got to worry about? Half the population would kill Dumbledore to get one dance with you. The only person who’s got to worry about a date is me– well, and maybe Y/n, I guess.” His face suddenly turned contemplative, looking you up and down. “Are you going with someone?”
Sirius’ grimace became doubly pronounced at Peter’s tactlessness, and you felt your face heating up. Peter had a way of accidentally hitting on the issues others tried to hide. It wasn’t his fault he’d never heard about your trips to Hogsmeade with a paramour– in fact, none of the boys had. Because there hadn’t been any. You’d spent your entire time at Hogwarts pining after James, and as a result had missed the romantic milestones your classmates had already blissfully bragged about.
Peter looked at you expectantly, waiting for a response, and you opened your mouth to confess your lack of experience when you spotted a familiar redhead walking gracefully towards your side of the table– to James, you realized with a start. Something within you ignited as you watched her glow with confidence, carefree and lovely as ever. Lily would never pine after someone uselessly; she knew she could get anyone she wanted with the right amount of banter and flirty gestures. You... Well, you weren’t there quite yet, but maybe it was time to take inspiration from the Muggle saying and ‘fake it til you make it’. And before you could think about what you were about to do, you turned to Peter and smiled coyly. “I might.”
James’ and Sirius’ heads snapped up immediately from their perusal of the breakfast lineup as they let out an identical murmur of surprise. “What?” James furrowed his brow, looking you up and down– seemingly trying to discern whether you had taken a holiday from your senses, most likely via Bludger-induced concussion at the last Quidditch match. Sirius merely raised a questioning eyebrow at you. You groaned internally, knowing that you’d have to explain yourself later… although, if your half-baked idea worked, you’d be spending a lot more time with him anyway. For now, you beamed innocently at both of them and took a sip of your pumpkin juice. Apparently, the Sorting Hat had placed you in Gryffindor for a reason- you were either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish to commit to this plan, but with Evans quickly approaching, you saw no other choice.
Peter looked momentarily shocked, then glumly began to assemble an egg and bacon sandwich seasoned with the occasional mutterance of “unfair” and “perpetually single, my arse”.
James’ eyes were still trained on you. “Who is it?” he asked, searching your face again as if he was looking for some indication that you were joking. You shrugged, trying to look casual. “I guess you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”
“Dove-” he began, but Lily finally reached his seat and placed one stupidly perfect hand on his shoulder, diverting his attention momentarily. “Sorry to interrupt your breakfast, but Professor McGonagall asked me to bring you to her office for Quidditch scheduling.” James blinked, glancing up at her and then at the rest of the table. He stood up and focused on you again, expression clouded. “I’ll see you in Potions, yeah?”
Sirius stood up quickly, ushering him out of his seat with a speed you’d only seen him use to gulp down cheap Firewhiskey. He gave you a significant look. “Actually, Y/n and I were just about to take a walk, isn’t that right? So we'll both see you in Potions, what a sublime coincidence, now don’t be late for your meeting–” he chattered on as he shoved James toward the doors of the Great Hall, the latter eyeing him suspiciously but moving nonetheless. Sirius turned to you and pointed to the courtyard entryway. “You. Me. Talk, as in right now.”
Once you were sure that you’d made it out of earshot of Peter and the rest of the Gryffindor table, you wheeled around to face him. “Okay. First of all… I didn’t plan that.” Sirius raised an eyebrow again. “Second of all, I need a favour,” you pleaded, staring up at him with the most adorable doe eyes you could physically summon. They were usually most effective on James, for some reason, but you were sure that Sirius wasn’t immune to your manipulation either. He groaned, resting his face in his hands. “How do you even have a date? Last time I checked, also known as yesterday, you were still head over heels for Prongsie, doll. So do I need to check you for Amortentia or somethi–” He peered out from between his fingers with annoyed realization. “You don’t have a date, do you.”
You blinked innocently up at him. He let out a long-suffering sigh and ran his hands through his hair. “This is what you need the favour for? You want me to go with you to Slughorn’s party so you can pretend in front of the rest of Hogwarts that you’re not madly in love with Jamie?”
You grinned confidently up at him and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Aw, Siri, you know me so well. It’s almost as if you were maaaade to be my date for the party...” You fluttered your eyelashes up at him one more time for good measure, trying to hide a smirk. “Alright, alright, stop with the Bambi act, I’ll take you.” He scowled good-naturedly. “You know, this is going to ruin my dating pool for the next month.”
You scoffed. “As if! If anything, you’ll just have more people fawning over you– temptation of the forbidden apple and all, you know.”
Sirius brightened up considerably at this revelation. “Well, why didn’t you say so in the beginning, doll! I vote that we match in purple velvet, it does wonders for my complexion–”
You gave a very unladylike snort at the thought of you and Sirius swanning into the party in some sort of horrendous plum-coloured disco getup, and shooed him away towards the Potions classroom. That was an eyesore to imagine sometime when you weren’t about to get a headache from the dim dungeon lighting.
Slughorn greeted you and Sirius by directing you to the front of the classroom with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oho, a pair of latecomers, I see!” He winked at you and Sirius in exaggerated motion. You winced as Snape jeered and nudged Malfoy, who was busy enjoying Flint’s crude gestures at you. Ugh, Slytherin boys. The worst of the lot. Their snickers were quickly stopped by James chucking a handful of powdered wormwood at their heads when Slughorn turned away, making Malfoy’s prized hair appear covered in soot. You shot him a grateful smile.
“Since you two missed my initial remarks, let’s see if you can make it up by identifying today’s potion, hmm?” Slughorn gestured dramatically to a shimmering green brew in a cauldron next to his desk, cherry-coloured smoke curling off of the top invitingly.
Sirius shot you a panicked look, clearly not expecting to be put in the academic spotlight, but you shook your head and stepped closer. You smelled something rich and incense-like, which meant that Bumburrel leaves were a key ingredient. And combined with the way the smoke was drifting lazily around your wrists, curling higher and higher… “Brew of Mandelian, sir. Used for sharpened acuity under times of pressure.”
Slughorn gave a delighted chuckle and clapped his hands. “Well then! Ten points to Gryffindor for paying attention in lectures!” He dismissed you and Sirius with a wave, moving on to explain the finer points of ingredient preparation to a very bemused George Goyle as you slipped into your usual seat beside James.
You worked in quiet harmony for a moment, methodically slicing and crushing the slippery beetles needed to give the brew its signature green colour while James handed you the insects. He broke the silence after six beetles (not that you had been counting or anything) with an awkward, “So… you have a, erm, date?”
You huffed, motioning for him to hand you the foul-smelling Moorish tubers next. “Honestly, James, is it that surprising?” He scratched the back of his neck, frowning. “Well, I– yeah, I guess.” he trailed off, seeing your expression.
“The tubers, Jamie, thank you. I mean, you looked at me like I was a ghost back in the Great Hall!” You were decidedly not making eye contact with him, trying your best to focus on the slimy plants in front of you and not the fact that your best friend-slash-unrequited crush doubted your romantic potential. What a way to be humbled– and while covered in tuber juice, no less!
He huffed, running a hand through his already messy curls. “Come on, Y/n, it’s not like that. What did Sirius want to talk about in the Great Hall, anyway? You two looked… chummy.”
You glared down at the copper slicing board. “Well, it’s none of your business how chummy we are, is it? I don’t interrogate you every time you converse with Peter. In fact, it’s rather expected that Sirius and I speak to one another on occasion, considering the amount of time we all spend together thanks to you.”
You moved to grab another tuber from the jar, but James reached out and grabbed your hand, forcing you to look at him. His hazel eyes were alight with frustration, a look you knew by heart thanks to the hours you’d spent tutoring him in History of Magic after he napped his way through the entire first semester. “Are you serious? You’re actually going with someone?”
“Please, Jamie, do enlighten me on whyever you think I couldn’t possibly get a date with my numerous and diverse charms,” you sniffed, hoping to Merlin that he would just leave the entire subject alone.
“No, it’s–” he groaned, leaning back in his seat. “The other boys, they don’t know how– you’re so, I mean, just look at you!” he exclaimed, gesturing at you. He stopped, frowning to himself, looking more confused than before. He glanced over at Lily, expression becoming even more muddled, brow furrowed and hard to read to anyone but you.
Your mouth parted in shock, and to your dismay you felt tears bubbling up again. You blinked fiercely, refusing to let him see you cry. James thought the issue was… your looks? You suddenly wanted to crawl under Slughorn’s desk and never come out again, except perhaps to find a shovel to dig your grave with. This was far, far worse than watching him transfigure chocolates for Lily every Valentine’s Day. Now you knew for a fact he didn’t find you attractive– thought other boys didn’t either, even! And the way he’d clearly mentally compared you to Lily after what he’d admitted… well. There was no recovering from that. Teenage boys could be dense, but Merlin, how you had wanted him to at least let you down gently.
You wished you’d never opened your mouth to lie about having a stupid date in the first place, but you forced yourself to laugh and mutter something trite about how that could all be fixed with a couple glamour charms anyway so it really wasn’t an issue for the party, thank you very much. He looked even more confused, opening his mouth to respond, but Snape chose that moment to interrupt.
“Hey, Potter!” James turned to scowl at the greasy Slytherin as you thanked your lucky stars for Snape’s interruption (a rather disturbing thought– potentially a harbinger of an imminent apocalypse. You’d never thanked Snape before in your life and hoped to never do it again). “Here’s payback for earlier,” he smirked, checking that Slughorn had dozed off and the other students weren’t paying attention before whipping a mottled yellow bottle at James.
James’ carefully honed Quidditch reflexes kicked in and he quickly dodged the object, but as the vial soared up, up, past your carefully diced tubers, over James’ messy notes, it hit your arms and shattered. You flinched in pain, crying out as the glass shards embedded themselves in your arm and the congealing, repulsive liquid dripped down your hands and onto your thighs. James lunged towards you, but it was too late– the potion had already seeped into your skin, causing an awful sparking sensation.
You gasped, grabbing onto the desk as the feeling bubbled upwards. “Jamie, I don’t– I don’t feel–” you stuttered, suddenly lightheaded, and you heard someone gasp as you began to taste something metallic. You absently touched your nose. Why was it so cold and wet? You had been so careful not to touch your face around those horrid tubers and oh, oh Merlin and Morgana what was that pain in your hands and legs, please no make it go away someone help me help me HELP
You vaguely registered someone whimpering in the background. It might have been you, but you weren’t entirely sure what was happening outside of the electric symphony of agony crescending in your nervous system. The pain built swirled flooded through until you weren’t sure where you ended and the potion began which was a funny thought because of course you were you, but you couldn’t remember who you were before this so you laughed but that really hurt, oh how that hurt no no no no no bad idea–
“Fuck– no–” James? Was he here too?
You blinked– when did your eyes open?– and saw him reach for you, frantically pushing his dark curls off his forehead. Why would he do that? You loved his hair, even when you were feeling funny awful things from the potion. You felt his arms scoop under you, lifting you off your seat as he caught your head from falling back. You heard a door slam open, footsteps, darkness clouding your vision–
His voice. “Sweetheart, no– don’t do that, I need you to keep your eyes open.”
You blinked again, trying to focus on James’ face. He looked pale, jaw set and tensed like it was before his Quidditch games. Were you moving? You couldn’t tell whether James was walking or the hallways were walking around you. He glanced down again, exhaling with relief once he saw whatever he was looking for. “Yeah, just like that. Keep those pretty eyes focused on me, okay?”
He thought your eyes were pretty?
James gave a tight laugh. “Yeah, I think your eyes are pretty, dove. Hold on a bit longer, we’re almost there,” he choked out.
Oh. Had you said that out loud?
But you thought– he had said something, before, you couldn’t remember now but it was important and it hurt–
Some part of you, deep where the potion hadn’t reached, had melted at his words. That part was tinged with pain, too, but in a different way, raw and honest and hopeful and all for him. Or maybe that was the potion, you were pretty sure witches weren’t supposed to melt unless they were green and lived somewhere much further west, but your thoughts on the whole process evaporated as you reached a white door and a woman and your words started to swirl until they melted too and everything went black.
taglist: @magpiencrow @that-kid143 @itmustbegreattobecalledtheitgirl @lilly-aliyah @milivanili99 @stars-havefallen @spidergwnn @prongs-moon @joeytribbiani18 @yeahright0h @ronancebot @ropickle @regulusblacksposts @lovelywritersgarden @helloitsmeeeeeee @xobridgertonblues @azuredgalaxies
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#james potter#james potter x y/n#james potter x reader#sirius black#bisexual sirius black#remus lupin#peter pettigrew#marlene mckinnon#dorcas meadowes#fem reader#fem!reader#best friends to lovers#marauders fic#marauders fanfiction#marauders x y/n#lily evans#harry potter#hp fandom
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So, the thing about Ward's worldbuilding is, it's bad on purpose. This is something I didn't catch until a relisten of the earlier parts, but the disconnect between the actual literal apocalypse that occurred two years prior and the shockingly advanced levels of infrastructure and technology is very deliberate. The entire thing is slapdash and farcical. You have people out the door of a shitty concrete hovel lining up for bad coffee. You have cars built out of random scavenged parts, "dumpsters" that Victoria can't manhandle because they're made of clumsily-welded-together scrap metal. Victoria can't reliably navigate at night because power to the city below is intermittent (and her mother Carol happens to live in one of the parts that does have consistent power; that's unexamined, make of it what you will.) The mall cluster shitshow goes down in a "mall" that, IIRC, is called out later as having been basically a dead end economically, a doomed grasp at a sense of normalcy. The patrol block uses recycled PRT gear, Dot's interlude involves the machine army jumping a bunch of bog-standard apocalypse scavengers. What you're looking at isn't a new society built up shockingly quickly; you're looking at the previously-well-supplied-and-externally-supported outpost of the recently destroyed society, and after two years they're finally chewing through the last of the head start they got. The societal equivalent of Wile. E. Coyote hanging in the air above the cliff, or of the seemingly-untouched duelist seconds away from sliding in half. Unfortunately, due to choices made about the timeframe and focus of the story, the Coyote sprouts wings. The duelist whips out a staple gun.
Or to come at this from another angle- in The Walking Dead, a comic I really like, I can sort of organize the arc of the apocalypse into three-ish big chunks. For the first eight or nine months in universe, about 48 issues, things are obviously bad, right, quite a few people have died, but there's a sense among Rick and company that they might be able to ride it out, that things are on the upswing. They've got crops going, they have new births, maybe help from the government proper isn't coming the way they thought it might towards the start, but things are looking up! Then, of course, the Great Fuckening of Volume Eight occurs, and you enter the middle phase of the comic, where they're down to like a third of their group, they're food-insecure, they're constantly on the move, they're under attack from rapists and cannibals who've descended into habitual atrocity because they're totally without hope. Children are having mental breaks and killing children, the first friendly guy Rick met in the whole comic is now an insane hermit feeding dead bodies to his undead son, on and on and on and on and on. Bad times, but a comparatively short middle in the grand scheme of things. Then they find Alexandria, and the back half of the comic is spent basically on an upward trajectory with some zig-zags, there are still periodic existential threats but they're clearly past the nadir.
Ward feels like it starts midway through that first part, the you-don't-know-how-much-worse-this-can-get part, with the emphasis on the social tensions, the encroaching winter, but then it just...doesn't get much worse. I mean they have a rough three months, but then they sort of speedrun right to the hopeful future ending as soon as the titans are dealt with. There were parts that I suspect were supposed to be the dark-night-of-the-soul I'm alluding to but they didn't land as such. I feel as though the superhero genre stuff kind of subordinated the apocalypse stuff, made it less visible by virtue of whose POV we were following, and sometimes I feel that as a remedy to this, Ward should have taken place over the course of years, and it should have Just Kept Getting Worse. For example Breakthrough should have had to kill and eat Rain to survive the winter
#parahumans#ward#wormblr#thoughts#meta#the last line is a shitpost#everything else is endorsed#wildbow
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Your AK HC were on POINT 👌👌👌 literally everything you said was so right. It was really refreshing seeing this kind of take on AK Jason.
AK Jason is a cat that’s been feral for most of its life and you just gotta approach him gently and be patient 🥺
I also agree… this boi is a VIRGIN 👏 this man had no game and wasn’t even seeking anything (cause 1) his mind is entirely focused on one goal atm and 2) all his trauma 😞 ) he’s prob like a deer in the headlights for any first time physical intimacy wether that’s holding hands or sleeping together (poor baby)
I want to give AK Jason a nice blanket, a cup of tea and his favorite book 🥺 I doubt it would help a lot though. I just want to shower this boi with love
literally jumping up and down. for so long i was nervous to post my takes on him hcishskshd.
psps also i see yall in my inbox dw imma get to you all :]
but your so right, ak!jay is so a feral dog/cat to me. I say dog because of his implication throughout the arkham comics and mainstream ones, that robin to jason was seen as bruces lap dog.
So i’ve always seen AK!jay as a “runner dog.” You know? The type that sees an open door and runs out of the house, wont come back for nothin.
But feral cat so describes his personality, the just standing and watching, and slowly warming up, is so him coded ,, anon ur soOOO right.
nsfw under da cut (light / not detailed :] ) ((also soft and warm hehe))
ill die on this hill,, he had NO interest in sex for so long, barely slipped his mind with training. Only got off to break off steam and he would just take his ass to bed.
and like anon said, even for basic things like holding your hand on his shoulder he gets so tense.
Subconsciously he’s waiting for something bad to happen, for it to be a trick, so it takes a really long time for him to weed those distrusts out :(
luv him soo bad needa hold his hand and feed him food.
his first time hes so quiet and stiff. hes not mentally freaking out, but again subconsciously hes expecting something bad to happen.
he feels like theres something under his skin tingling, the sensation that made him pull back many times before.
but nothing bad is happening, and it takes him awhile to accept that too.
The possibility has never seemed completely unreal to him, but really experiencing that kind of intimacy and love was so surreal to him.
When its over, he’s looking at you with big blown out eyes, and his mind is so quiet, in a good way, but most importantly that fog, that darkness he has felt for so long isn’t there. He feels so real and present in the moment.
He’s touching your skin, actually feeling and processing the way you feel against him, the texture of the cloth you two lay on, and your face.
Falls asleep, doesn’t dream. a peaceful night. he wakes up, the fogs back but he feels a little lighter when he walks :)
ak!jay dealing with everyone (including you and i my friend) thats in his tumblr tags ((link))
my rq are open im so happy people wanna hear me ramble abt his crazy ass fuckdjskbdkssndj !!!
#jason todd#jason peter todd#jason todd x reader#arkham knight smut#arkham knight x reader#jason todd smut#arkham knight
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may 6 | strawberry | @jegulus-microfic | 1026 words | slightly nsfw
James is going mad. Truly, stark-raving mad.
He decided last week that he was going to be a good friend and take Regulus for a relaxing day out, because the boy had been cooped up within the library studying for his end of year exams. The dreaded week had finally come around and Regulus, eyes hard and decorated with dark smudges underneath, had flown through all of them. James already knew that his Potions work was going to be the best of the year because when he asked him how it went all of it flew over his head. And James, contrary to popular belief, is actually really fucking smart.
It takes skill to pull off so many pranks flawlessly, thank you very much.
But anyway, James wanted to treat Regulus to a nice picnic out by the edge of the Forbidden Forest where they wouldn’t be bothered by Sirius. As much as he loves his best friend, and he does tremendously, James got the feeling that Sirius was trying to block him from getting closer to his little brother. It seems mad to him because ever since Regulus ran away from home and moved in with the Potters, he and Sirius have rekindled their brotherly bond and James thought it only right if he bonds with Regulus, too.
When he told Sirius this, his friend had looked at him with eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Do not fall for him, Prongs. I mean it.”
James had spluttered, completely taken aback. “What?! Why on earth would I fall for him?”
Raising one eyebrow, Sirius sent him a deadpan look. “You know why, James.”
At the time James hadn’t known. Looking at Regulus now, he thinks he totally understands. He also thinks that being friends with Regulus is going to be the death of him.
Regulus is sitting opposite him on the blanket, raving about how stupid James is for setting up the picnic this close to the Forbidden Forest, and all James can concentrate on is the way he feels hot under the collar whenever Regulus insults him.
Oh Godric, he does have a type.
James also can’t tear his eyes away from Regulus’ mouth and the way it wraps sinfully around a chocolate covered strawberry, his plump lips stretched around the fruit as some of it dribbles obscenely out the corner of his mouth.
James thinks he might faint.
Regulus looks over at him then, looking at him with judgement. “Goodness, you really are mentally deficient aren’t you, Potter? Hello? Is anyone home or do I have to go back to Hogwarts and inform my brother that the best friend he’s ridiculously co-dependent on is braindead?”
James shivers at every biting word, loving the way they brand him as they fall from those sinful lips. There’s a good deal of strawberry juice lingering on his lower lip, some gathering in the corner just begging for James to take a swipe at it.
So he does.
Only, it doesn’t go down the way he was originally intending. He meant to swipe at the juice with his thumb, maybe bring it to his mouth afterwards to get rid of it. Only, his brain doesn’t seem to confer that to his limbs, and so James leans his entire body forward, brings his face so close to Regulus’ that the boy’s eyes widen comically, and swipes at the corner of his mouth with his tongue.
For a moment everything is still, even the sound of the forest hushing in anticipation for their next move, and then Regulus lets out a shaky exhale as his eyes flutter shut. James moves automatically, as if hearing that from Regulus sets him off and he’s determined to hear even more wicked noises from him.
James brings a hand up to Regulus’ jaw and manoeuvres him so that his neck is tilted backwards, giving James the perfect angle to swoop down and curl his tongue over the plump bottom lip. He brings it into his mouth and sucks, relishing in the high pitched moan Regulus makes.
He’s so perfect, James thinks as Regulus lies there and just lets him take it. Take whatever he wants.
When James thinks back to all his encounters with Regulus over the years, specifically those over the summer when Regulus moved in with them, he thinks he can see how gone he was for the boy. It was almost immediate, the way James just completely folded as soon as the snarky insults left his mouth.
A mouth that is parting so beautifully underneath his own. James can’t hold back the guttural groan as he dives back in for a proper kiss, taking everything Regulus has to offer and returning it tenfold. Regulus reaches up to scratch his nails across James’ scalp and James realiates by nipping his bottom lip before pushing Regulus onto his back, moving in between his thighs to hover over him.
Regulus opens his mouth, allowing James to lick into it and suck on his tongue. His other hand grabs tightly at James’ waist, his Gryffindor jumper clenched tightly between his fingers as he encourages James to press his crotch down into his own.
James pulls away on a broken moan and Regulus whines at the loss, blushing when he opens his eyes blearily, realising the sound he just made. James stares down at him as if he’s the most brilliant thing he’s ever seen.
“Please tell me you’ll let me do that again,” James almost begs, brushing his nose against Regulus’.
Regulus shoots him an unimpressed look. “Potter, if you don’t kiss me within the next five seconds I am going to tie you to that tree and leave you there for the foreseeable future.”
James hums. “If you wanted to tie me up, Reggie, you only had to ask.”
“Fuck off.”
Smirking, James brushes his lips against Regulus’ in a teasing manner. “A bit contradictory with your previous statement, love.”
A pretty blush dusts the high of Regulus’ cheekbones and James watches in adoring fascination as the younger boy groans and pulls him back down to his lips.
James can’t help but smile into it.
#jegulus#james potter#regulus black#james x regulus#regulus x james#jegulus microfic#microficmay2024#sirius black#marauders#writing#starchaser#sunseeker#the marauders#the marauders fandom#hp marauders#dead gay wizards#marauders era#the marauders era
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Here’s that Danny Phantom fic that I started like two months ago. It’s mainly a crack fic treated seriously that I lost motivation to continue writing. I might come back to it later idk. Anyways ignore this hot mess of a fic as it just bounces around with no real plot lol
ignore any inaccuracies with dc comics or out of character writing this really is just a crack fic, definitely not beta read or proof read
404 - Title Not Found
Part 2 - Tumblr Part 3 - Tumblr
Ao3
Where to start with the Ghost King’s story? Most ghosts already knew at least a bit from hunting him down in his earlier years, way before he was able to clam the crown but now Clock Work was telling Danny that he could either make a mythos version or have the actual story of how a halfa became Ghost King, The Ruler of The Infinite Realms be told for as long as he ruled.
Out of all things that came with being Ghost King, he didn’t expect to be told to that he could mostly make up the story of how he even got to the crown.
Danny with the help of his sister and friends; made his story. It was mostly truth. How he defeated Phriah Dark, the many fights with ghosts and then calming the crown when he turned 18. There were parts that were completely fake. Mainly how he became a halfa. He didn’t want to have the portal accident be connected to him more than it was. He had accepted the way the accident would follow him around. Not just being the whole reason he was Phantom but the pain that still lingered.
When human, he would get shaky, phantom (no pun intended) pains all ever, along with some effects that were easier to manage. At first he didn’t understand the phantom pain, he still had all his limbs but after talking to Vald, who had surprisingly chilled out and stopped messing with Danny(for the most part), it had to due with the fact that he was dead. His whole body thought that one part was dead every other hour almost, sometimes the whole thing.
He had gotten used to it, well as much as he could. Obviously he had the mental side affects to deal with too. Sometimes he would nightmares of some of the more tougher fights. His friends and CW thought that the nightmares were because of Phara Dark and the portal accident. Of course some were but there others too. Mainly Spectra’s mosquito epidemic including the “hospital” and Nocturn.
Being stuck in what should be your desired reality along with everyone’s and seeing all your classmates including your own sister slowly become sick with some kind of ghost virus is the kind of shit that sticks with you. He tried to avoid most nightmares by staying in ghost form but just like when he would be forced to his human half from exughst in a fight; the same would happen with the more sleep he missed.
Sam once asked him if he blamed her for the accident. Of course, he didn’t. No one knew what could’ve happened. While he held no blame for Sam, he blamed himself sometimes when things got bad.
-
Today was like any other, do some basic royal stuff and then visit other realms/places in the human world to see how the ghosts that resided there were treated. He had gotten use to all the moving over the last few years. He typically loved going to other realms. It was a break for the most part. A break from being King, a break from being Phantom and a Fenton.
Though today was different. He was to visit Gotham, the city said to be alive itself. He lived there when he wasn’t in Amity or the ghost world but hadn’t been back in a while due to problems in Amity.
Living in gotham was an easy way to watch a lot of the dead that roamed there. Particularly a specific living dead who had came back a few years ago. Danny was supposed to see how the pit rage progressed and if it was still affecting years later. Danny had ask CW if he had to since the lazura pit had been around for quite awhile, didn’t they already know and because of the fact that it was creepy to basically stalk someone. He was just told that everything changes and it’s best to always double check.
Now he was invisible and moving through the shadows of Crime Alley. He watched the tops of buildings and alleys. He had chosen Crime Alley as a place to live when human. He knew that the living dead he was supposed to watch had claim over Crime Alley so it was easy to watch. He was careful to not interfere with any part of Crime Alley.
He would stop something if he saw it but knew not to mess with someone else’s haunt too much. Although Danny thought it was creepy, Red Hood was an interesting one to watch. Danny picked up on the fact that Red Hood liked Night Wing but disliked the Batman. Sure Danny could just figure out his identity but that a. be more creepy and b. that would ruin the fun.
But he had messed up when returning home after watching The Red Hood. He was in his human form when heading back to his apartment. He didn’t worry about how dangerous Crime Alley was. Of course he was a bit paranoid sometimes but not really.
One minute he was walking the next he was cornered in the alley next to the apartment complex. Apparently that got the attention of The Red Hood as when Danny started pushing the muggers away and was getting ready to fight; he appeared behind the them and scared the rest off.
Danny kinda just looked at him before saying thanks and quickly heading up the fire escape to his apartment. He wasn’t supposed to interact with the dead that he was meant to watch but now he could feel Red Hood’s eyes on him as he went through his window.
-
Jason usually knew who was following him but for some reason he couldn’t figure it out this time. He felt like he was being followed, he knew that he was. He had oracle check the cameras in Crime Alley but still nothing.
It annoyed him that he couldn’t figure it out. There was no rumors about any out of towners. It wasn’t till one night when he noticed someone fighting against some muggers in the alleyway of next to the apartment complex he lived in. He was about to stop his patrol for the night so why not end with scaring off muggers.
When all was said and done, he watched the man thank him and leave. Jason watched a bit too long as he saw him go into his apartment. He couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity with that man. Red hood left to the top of the apartment building. Yes he had multiple safe houses but he liked living in crime alley, more or less to stay away from the Bat.
#dc x dp#dpxdc#dp x dc#dead on main#not finished#fanfic#dp fanfic#jason todd#red hood#danny fenton#danny phantom#cross posted on ao3#crack fic#not serious#hot mess fic#ghost king danny#au#dp x dc crossover#404 - Title Not Found
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*explodes into your request box*
HEY HEY HEY, im back.
Came to ask an platonic Child!reader with the rest of the gang.
BUT HEAR ME OUT
Child reader is like an wolf in sheep's clothing, like reader has an cute expression on their face but when someone tries to touch them, they'll go like: "touch me and ill rip your hand off" in a full innocent voice and that cute smile.
And child reader has shark teeth.
Tyy!
*explodes*
- 🦭
The cast x child!reader (platonic)
throwing this together after waking up from a really nice nap! i still have the kinger request to work on but my brains still stumped.. sobs..
requests are still open by the way! you can find the link to my rules in my previous post, or you can look in my pinned! :O
apologies if some sections for the characters are a little short, my brains still a lil okfvokffvovf from waking up TToTT
CAINE:
a child? in the circus?
he doesnt quite know how to make of it, i mean... its not like he has to make any accommodations, the circus is a place for all ages afterall!
i give you this new concept: dad caine
lightly scolds you when you threaten someone, bad manners!
i think he would be like a stereotypical eccentric dad
in house adventures seem to tone down just a touch so theyre not too intense or dangerous for you, keeps an eye on you to make sure you dont get stuck anywhere or flung across the room
rip bubble, you probably pop them when theyre within a foot of you
pinches your cheek only to have his hand comically chomped off ("now now (reader)! what did i tell you about biting! time out!)
POMNI:
similar confusion that caine has, but like, more so
how did a kid even get their hands on one of the headsets??
honestly i think pomni might be the type to be uncomfortable around kids; she doesnt hate them she just doesnt know what to do with them
also kids can possess a different kind of cruelness when they really put their minds to it and shes already in a mentally precarious position as it is
she doesnt avoid you though!
was bitten a grand total of one times, she made the mistake of trying to take you somewhere during an IHA and she didnt make you aware that she was going to put her hand on your shoulder
JAX:
okay you cant swear in the circus, but i feel like jax has some very creative ways to work around that, making these new colorful euphemisms that dont skip out on the crudeness. he teaches you some of his favorites just to watch the world burn
lightning fast reflexes, should you try to bite or hit him; not that hes going to try to put his hands on you
actually
i can see him picking you up via scooping his hands under your arms, or literally just holding you up by the scruff of your next
congrats theres now the image of jax holding a flailing sheep child in our heads. his shins will be kicked in the second you get put down
thinks its funny when people have to do double takes when you let out a threat or say something dark
RAGATHA:
i think she would be a cool babysitter, or big sister figure to you
similar to caine she will lightly scold you when you're being 'rude'
doesnt try to figure out why you dont like being touched, also respects it. respects your space as well, she doesnt totally baby you
she is a little sad that a kid so young got stuck in the digital world, though
even if you could remember things, i dont think she would ask out of fear of possibly upsetting you
likes making you little things (small pillows, plushes, ect) since i can see her being into sewing.. might be because shes a doll, though
KINGER:
i said it once and ill say it again, kinger is dad. like i already hc he had kids before getting stuck in the digital world, but i also like to hc that he and gangle have a dad/kid relationship, at least when kinger was less... paranoid
like he still has the capacity to be a father figure to you, but i think with you being a little... ermrmfl.. he might be a little put off
tells you stories about "being a king" (ie embellishing the one time he was put in charge during an IHA ages ago) and tells you about some previous in house adventures
youre so short he genuinely doesnt see you approaching sometimes so he either gets jumpscared by you or literally trips over you on accident
is so so apologetic once he gets over the initial shock of suddenly meeting the floor
really if you follow this guy around and show interest in his interests hes gonna adopt you
he knows your threats arent empty, even if they arent hes not going to try to find out
ZOOBLE:
zooble seems like the type of person to find some vague amusement in kids swearing or saying out of pocket stuff, i cant explain why
cant teach you swear words thanks to the censoring of the digital world but hey... they can still spell it out...
honestly i hc that zooble themselves doesnt like being touched so hey you dont have to worry about that, they personally get it
cool older sibling energy. while ragatha gives off sweet n caring older sister, zooble gives off the energy of a cool older sibling who like. idfk skateboards or something
zooble skateboarding real
not much else to say here
GANGLE:
similar to pomnis but this is more so because gangle is intimidated by other people thanks to her shyness!
i think gangle would be in the same boat as you and zooble, in terms of touching, but in gangles case its because shes made of ribbon and thus can be pushed around very easily
would cry on the off chance you snap at her :(
she lets you into her room sometimes to let you draw with her! kids like drawing right?
thats her reasoning, at least
i mean hey, it gives you something to do and gives you a break from all the chaos
actually pretty okay when her comedy mask isnt broken, actually makes an attempt to properly get to know you and crack a few jokes
#tadc x reader#the amazing digital circus x reader#digital circus x reader#caine x reader#pomni x reader#jax x reader#ragatha x reader#kinger x reader#zooble x reader#gangle x reader#caine x you#pomni x you#jax x you#ragatha x you#kinger x you#zooble x you#gangle x you
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X-Men 97 Episode 9 Thoughts
Ooff, I have some very complicated feelings about all of this. But unsurprisingly I have a lot to say about Rogue...
When I read that Beau DeMayo's favorite comic book was X-Men #25 I figured two things were going to happen -- that they'd get Magneto to pull out Wolverine's adamantium and that Rogue would play the Colossus role of going with Magneto.
And, the more I think about it -- this entire season was crafted to get to that moment - the moment of Magneto pulling out Wolverine's adamantium. It just feels like everything was written around one dude's past traumas. And I mean, while I'm not happy with the guy - I do get how you end up doing that with fiction.
Shame that X-Men #24 wasn't his favorite. We'd be having a whole different discussion...
I understand how we got here. I understand Rogue's grief and her in story decision making (mostly). I understand what the writers were going for. But, my god, it just sucks. It sucks that they did this to her. It sucks that this show needs to compress so much into so little time that there's no real time to let the show breathe and form organically. It sucks that they've isolated her as a character so that the grief would consume her so that we'd get to this point.
Rogue dreaming about feeling Remy and waking up only for Nightcrawler to tell her it isn't real broke me. Rogue in that trench coat broke me. Rogue deciding to go with Magneto so she could play the Colossus role -- and the fact that Remy died so she could get there - makes me angry.
It's not about love triangle shenanigans, I'm glad that that's really not a part of it. But they did the whole triangle for her to have it make /more/ sense that she'd do it. Because sans that, she wouldn't have. It was written purposely so she'd be in a mental state where it narratively does make (some) sense that she'd go with Magneto.
And I just... thanks, I hate it.
But also, I don't know where we go from here? The X-Men beat Bastion in the finale. Yay? At what cost? They've clearly set up Onslaught, which, yeah, okay, let's do that mess. But character wise... where do we go from here? What do you do with Rogue's character now?
I mean, there are some answers. I don't really love any of them for her.
X-Men, despite all the darkness, always was about hope. And I'm wondering where the hope in this series is. Because despite grand standing speeches from Xavier, I don't see it. If the finale can't give us any of that, then I don't see a reason to go on watching. Which really does break my heart :(
*sigh*
Some other things:
I do kind of love Rogue's non-reaction to the fact that Magneto is alive. it's just so glossed over. Due to the time compression, the writing of this show, while it has moments, isn't as even as people make it out to be.
I do kind of wonder if we'll get a scene with Rogue standing at Remy's grave, only for him to not be in it.
I'm glad Storm is back, she's the only character (along with Nightcrawler) that I really care about in this mess. (Obvs beyond Rogue)
I'm sad Storm didn't have any reaction to Remy's death though.
I did like the little Storm and Jean moment - such a good friendship, so sad that we only saw two minutes of it the entire season.
I feel like this show misses the mark on women... were there any in the writer's room??
...did they really just kill off Jean again? *sigh* (There's no body though...)
The blue and gold teams thing made me laugh for some reason. Oh, they're just pushing so hard to make things happen only for it to feel hollow.
Idk, I just feel meh about everything else, tbh.
#x men 97 spoilers#x men 97#xmen#rogue#anna marie lebeau#marvel meta#i have more detailed thoughts that maybe i'll write about when I get home#for now - life must go on
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they managed to massacre Aang's character and all the struggle and importance of his choice in the finale in a SINGLE page, and yet there are people who think the comics are good
and of course Katara's would have nothing to say on the matter, toootally in-character
Not to mention: yes, Zuko is right that a lifetime of indoctrination won't magically stop affecting him just because he's aware of it now, but the way the comics really said "If you're not perfect, you deserve to die. Not rehabilitation, not even incarceration despite it being an option, just straight to violent, lethal punishment" is horrying.
And lets not forget the blatant abuse apologism of having Zuko, the kid who was told by his abusive parent that his disfigurement and banishment was "for his own good" after he made one "mistake", turning to his closest friends and asking them to be his "safety net" by MURDERING HIM IF EVER STEPS OUT OF LINE - and said friends then agree to it.
Are you fucking kidding me? The real Aang would have double-down on the "You're NOT your father" bit, and the entire friend group would have been super concerned about Zuko because a victim of abuse saying they're as bad as their abuser thus deserve to die is one hell of a red flag as to how their mental health is going.
Speaking of mental health: I talk a lot about how Azula was constantly being abused by the supposed heroes in the comics, and how the justification of it is rooted in ableism, but this nonsense with Zuko asking to be put down like a dog is also peak victim blaming, and one of the few moments in which one can actually feel bad for comics!Zuko.
And it ties into a disturbing pattern I noticed among Avatar fans - and mainly Zuko fans. They don't truly understand that what Ozai put his children through was wrong, they simply think he chose the wrong kid as the escapegoat. They think Azula should have been the one that is constantly punished just for existing, while Zuko is the golden child that can do no wrong - or else.
This moment right here? With the people that he trusts agreeing to inflict violence on him if he ever makes a mistake? This is that "or else". This is literally the same mentality that led to Azula's breakdown because NO ONE CAN SURVIVE UNDER THAT MUCH PRESSURE.
And that leads us to the main reason why the comcis suck: Yang was using Zuko as a self-insert.
"Zuko‘s relationship with Ozai is something we – Mike, Brian, Dark Horse, Nickelodeon, and I – talked about extensively when we first started working together. There’s this strange thing that happens to people in power. The pressures of power often blur the lines between enemies. That’s part of what happens to Zuko here. Ozai is the only one who knows what it’s like to be Fire Lord, the only one who has the wisdom of experience. I also looked at my own life. I used to clash with my dad quite a bit when I was a teenager. However, as I grew up and found myself in roles that he used to have, I began to understand more and more of his decisions. My father isn't thoroughly evil, of course, but I imagine Zuko feels a little of the same pull."
Yang. My guy. My dude. The words "Ozai" and "wisdom" should NEVER be in the same sentence. Every single action of Ozai's as Fire Lord was based on him being an abusive piece of shit that finally got access to absolute power. He is not a stern dad, he is abusive. He's not misunderstood, he needed to be stopped and locked away. He is a human being with feelings and motivations, yes, but he is WRONG ABOUT LITERALLY EVERYTHING EVER. He NEVER had a point. Zuko has nothing to learn from him except what NOT to do. That's why he looks like an older, unscarred Zuko. A version of Zuko that never changed.
This is the core issue of the comics, and why it had so many moments of unintentional abuse apologism: they say Ozai is a villain, but they're going out of their way to constantly make the characters come dangerously close to saying "Maybe he had a point." That's why they have Zuko turn to Ozai for advice despite claiming he wants to avoid becoming like him - because the guy writting them couldn't understand that the bad guy was, in fact, bad and in the wrong and has no wisdom to offer to anyone.
Avatar, the series, is about the world moving past from the sick mentality people like Ozai had, and about his son realizing that he did not deserve to be abused. The Avatar Comics are about telling Zuko (and others) "Ozai isn't wrong actually, you'll understand when you're older."
No, Yang, they won't. Because there's nothing to "understand" here other than THE GUY THAT ABUSED HIS CHILDREN AND COMMITED GENOCIDE WAS WRONG ABOUT EVERYTHING, YOU DUMBASS!
Saying "the villain had a point" does not make a story better unless it is true - and in Ozai's case, it simply isn't. Insisting otherwise doesn't make the story and characters more mature, it just means you couldn't understand a cartoon aimed at 7-year-olds despite being a grown-ass man.
And I won't even get into Bryke approving of this bullshit otherwise I'll start tearing my hair out in rage at how badly they seem to have lost touch with the message of their best work, so let me just use a simple statemet to make everyone understand just how much of a disaster this is:
Even M. Night Shyamalan didn't misunderstand ATLA to the point of thinking Ozai wasn't actually wrong, but Bryan, Mike and Yang did. The comics understand the show less than M. Night Shyamalan did.
I rest my fucking case.
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yeah so uh, Shadow Joker eh?
this whole thing started with me thinking about a PhantomThief!Mishima, and then i started drawing stuff based off this one fic i read and then we got to here. oh well
i might turn this into a comic maybe??? depends on how hard finals slaughter me, but I’ll cross that bridge when i get to it
also here’s the lore on this guy cuz i legit spent too much mental energy scraping through the wiki figuring out how shadows and personas work and then coming up with a way it could work for joker
Basically, since someone’s shadow is a manifestation of their distorted desires, then a Shadow Joker, would be the manifestation of the protagonist’s (I’m gonna call him Ren from here on. cool? cool) distorted desires. What might those be? Well, during his awakening, Arsene notes Ren’s strong desire to help people and makes him think about whether the resolve he’s shown in the past was valid or not. This becomes the basis of the rebellious will that allows him to forge a contract with Arsene. But now with Shadow Joker, that desire to help people has been distorted into a kind of mix of hero and savior complex. So instead of just helping people in need, on some subconscious level he has started to see himself as the only one that can help and save people.
In personality he’s about the same as regular Joker. But that’s only at first glance. He’s much more unpredictable and dangerous, basically taking the whole “wildcard” thing very literally. I’d also like to think that all of Joker’s theatrics become even more emphasized with Shadow Joker.
For his palace I was thinking of him seeing the whole of Tokyo as his stage, wherein he’s an actor in a play of which he is the hero. For this I was kinda looking to the “The show’s over” on his all out attack screen, as well as hero = play, play = theatre, theatre = stage, and all that jazz. I’m still not exactly sure on how it’d look; maybe just the city as it is at night with open stages everywhere, spotlights floating through the dark nigh sky both as aesthetic as well as acting as traps for the thieves to avoid, so if you step into one of them the security level goes up. Or maybe each area that they go through would be like a different part of a theatre, so the treasure room would be Shadow Joker’s changing room and the final confrontation would be on a grand stage, idk. One thing is though, I think that his Palace Tokyo would feel really empty. Like there’d be people, but they’ll be more like faceless ghosts kinda milling about, so not at all like the ATM-guys or robots in Kaneshira and Okumura’s palaces. Also probably no cognitive versions of the other thieves or anyone else he knows, as I was thinking that Shadow Joker would be going by an “I don’t need anyone but myself” idea, and since he’s the all-powerful hero he doesn’t need “sidekicks”.
His treasure is his Phantom Thieves mask, as that would be the source of his distorted desire to help, cuz it’s the thing that represents him getting his persona and being able to help people on a larger scale in the first place.
When the other thieves first enter the palace, they won’t be in their thief outfits, as i think Shadow Joker’s desire to help would still outweigh him seeing them as a threat -- plus they’re people he knows. He’d talk and interact with them like regular Joker would, but maybe a bit more openly and with more theatrics, so the other thieves will have some trouble with thinking of him as a legit threat and not just their pal who’s a bit too quirked up. But when Shadow Joker realizes that they’re here to steal his mask, the switch flips completely, and the others have to really scramble to get out with their lives.
Then follows the general infiltration thing and blah blah blah. For the infiltration I thought it’d be neat if they go through all the different districts (that are walkable in-game) and the safe-rooms would be the areas where confidants hang out -- The Untouchable in Shibuya, Crossroads Bar in Shinjuku, Gigolo Arcade in Akihabara, Takemi Medical Clinic in Yongen-Jaya, etc.
There might also be a progression reason for which the gang will have to go into Shinjuku Academy, wherein the safe-rooms would be Ren’s classroom and the roof. Maybe there’s something in the school that they need to clear before they can progress through Aoyama-Itchome and go to Shibuya, idk.
The treasure room would be in the Leblanc attic (because ofc).
For the boss battle, when the other thieves try to steal his treasure but get caught on the way out (cuz that’s what always happens to these fools), Shadow Joker takes the mask from them and actually uses it in the battle, which allows him to switch between a number of different personas as a mechanic. Their levels and attack would be comparatively lower that the thieves’, but the sheer number of skills at his disposal as well as his unpredictability would be trouble enough.
there might also be a phase two, where he rips off the mask he’s wearing and replaces it with his original phantom thieves one, and ends up transforming into a fusion of himself and Arsene, so now he’d be technically using only one persona, but with higher stats
(also i was entertaining the thought of this being the general theme of the palace and this being the theme of the final confrontation. i feel like the first one’s just kinda eerie enough to suit prowling through your friend’s subconscious)
and then pertaining to the design itself, i was basing it off of the regular Joker outfit but spiced up with more flamboyance, because to Ren, Joker would be like the epitome of him feeling like a hero. I kept the mask on to also keep that Joker vibe going, however i made it a more extravagant variation on the original, to kinda push the theatre vibe. I also gave him a cape -- i think that one’s self-explanatory. The walking stick is to give him even more flair, but also uh, concealed weapons is like the perfect Shadow Joker thing to do. Basically think of Lucious Malfoy’s wand-walking stick but with a dagger instead of a wand.
anyway I want it to be clear for the record that I have never once looked up the shadow joker tag on here before i started drawing this but i’m glad we all share the same braincell when it comes to his outfit, fellas
(also holy FUCK @waifujuju‘s Shadow Joker design is so fucking clever, i am in awe)
that PhantomThief!Mishima thing is still in the works by the way, though i’ve hit a roadblock trying to come up with a persona for him. So far i’ve been thinking of something along the lines of Merlin but idk, it doesn’t seem rebellious enough so the only thing that fits is the vibes, and even that’s a maybe. this whole process has also been exacerbated by the fact that i’ve got a really cool costume going for him that involves a bolt-action rifle which i am very fond of and very reluctant to let go off. all this to say, if you’ve got any ideas please shoot me a message or write a comment cuz rn my brain is kinda frying itself trying to think through this. ty
#shadow joker#persona 5#p5#akira kurusu#amamiya ren#joker persona 5#persona 5 protagonist#man is joker fun to draw#all you do is sit down and draw a flamboyant little bastard (affectionate)#p5 joker palace au#joker palace au#p5 arsene#p5 protagonist#p5 protagonist palace au#can't get enough of joker's heels#my art
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