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#the DC universe
kebbopulos · 1 year
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I FINALLY DID IT
After hours of work I have compiled a chart of Tumblr's top 100 ships according to Tumblr's "Year in Review 2022" ships and organized them by fandom.
So! Here's how much of the top 100 each Fandom takes up!
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angelkissiies · 2 years
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Closed hand or open fist
the joker x reader
TW : massive trigger warning for most things in this story. implied non-con. male masturbation. blood kink. extreme violence. trauma kink. stockholm syndrome development. glorified abuse. cutting/stabbing. branding in a sense. im sure there’s more im forgetting but please proceed with caution! minors dni, 18+ please.
part 1/?
word count : 2709
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The breath caught in your throat, chest heaving with enough force to send you to the ground if you hadn’t been strapped painfully tight to the freezing metal chair. What was just a normal night shift at the hospital turned into everyone in Gotham's worst nightmare, as you clocked out and headed out to your car- you were chloroformed and stuffed into the trunk of a nearby Cadillac. Which brought you into the moment now, half aware and half filled with terror at the sight of the man in front of you. You knew of him, seeing as his men had hired you for a job and by hired, you meant that they threatened to kill your family if you didn’t follow through with his orders. That being said, you had never actually seen the man. As you took him in, your eyes lingered on the harsh protruding scars around his mouth. No amount of describing would ever be able to properly illuminate the aura of darkness that shrouded the man, from head to toe he exuded terror.
His voice carried through the desolate room, devoid of all signs of human life. You'd have thought this was hell if you didn’t know any better. The smell of standing water and moss filled your nostrils as the door swung closed behind him. Well, well, well.” He licked his lips, giving a rugged smile as he bent down to your height momentarily. “I thought... No, I know... I told you.” tsk, tsk, tsk. In the same fashion a parent would scold a child, his words were filled with something more than disappointment, regret if you didn’t know any better.
“Please, I messed up. I’m sorry.” You whispered, words hanging helplessly in the dim light of the nearby window. From the island, you could hear the noise from the city. Honking, sirens, things you'd probably never hear again. It had been your one job, to get your hands on the interface for WayneTech. The interface would’ve given his men the ability to find the signals The Batman was working off of and take him down, that was if they could even get their hands on it. That's why it was your job, from the outside you were just a nurse- but over the past couple of years, you had begun to secure a gig as a house call nurse for Bruce Wayne himself. That gave you the access, you just had to manage to pull it off. Obviously, you had failed.
The Joker was known for his thin patience, which only made sense now as you finished your sentence his fist made contact with your jaw, sending the chair and yourself teetering backward. He managed to snag it before it fell, jerking you upright at a nauseating speed. “Nuh-uh, nope. Not this time, doll.” He chuckled, cracking his knuckles as he stretched his fingers out. They were covered in bruises and dried blood, his movements opening recent cuts. He didn’t seem to care, his eyes focused on the blood that had begun to pour from your mouth. It was an unnatural red, like the red he painted his lips searching for the dopamine rush that followed fresh blood.
You felt dazed, in all honesty- you’d never been hit before and god, it was much worse than you could’ve imagined. Your head spun, the iron leaving a sickening feeling on your tongue as it fell from your lips to stain your scrubs. “Pl..-” You tried to form words but the ache in your jaw was too painful, sending shooting pain as you opened and closed your mouth. Was he going to kill you? Maybe. He was known for playing with his food and toying with his victims before finding the worst possible way to end their lives. You could only imagine the horror awaiting you as he paced back and forth, his eyes never leaving your mouth.
He bent down close to your face, hand grabbing a chunk of your hair and yanking back to make you look him in the eye. He inched closer and closer until you could feel his breath fan against your face. The proximity made your stomach churn, moving your eyes from his in an attempt to distance yourself. “You…” He muttered, barely audible as his tongue flattened out against your jawline, lapping up a stream of blood that trailed to the corner of your lips. A guttural sound left his lips as he pulled away, now tinted a darker red than normal. “You taste almost too good to kill.” He smirked, using the pad of his thumb to smudge the blood along your obviously broken jaw. It hung bruised and limp, trembling slightly due to your anxiety.
“Do you know what you’ve cost me?” The man prodded, moving to grip your chin roughly. That itself prompted a painful scream to fall from your lips, the striking ache in your jaw magnified by ten times. It was enough to make you begin to cry, the tears had been fought off for so long because of the shock of it all but as the pain sank in, that all changed. There were streams of hot tears running down your face as the man watched in pure delight. Your pain was a drug to him. Every scream, every whimper, every tear. It was orgasmic.
You gave him a feeble nod, spitting blood out of your mouth to avoid choking on it. “I’ll.. fix.. It.” You manage, shuttering as you feel the blood run down your neck. It was a disgusting feeling, even though it was your own blood. It was thick and hot, mixed with saliva to some degree. It just felt violating to be marinating in your own bodily fluids. “I… I swear.” You meant it, if he let you live, you’d do whatever it took to get the interface. Hell, you’d even sleep with Bruce if that's what had to happen.
The Joker licked his lips, smirking lightly as he jostled your face slightly before jerking his hand away. Soaking up the look that crossed your face as you bit back another scream. “Oh yeah? You mean that?” He took a step back from you, eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of you. A disheveled mess, but not nearly as black and blue as he liked his women. What a shame, he could surely fix that with no problem, right? Before you could even suck in a breath, his fist made a home in your eye socket with the force of god himself.
The pressure was enough to make you almost vomit, the chair shaking erratically on two legs as it fought to stay upright. Your vision went in and out, blurring due to what you could only assume were a couple of broken blood vessels in your eye. Ragged gasps left your mouth, your body trembling as the throbbing began. It took only a few seconds for your eye to swell up enough to make it impossible to open or close. Your hands pulled at the restraints, wanting badly to curl up in a ball and comfort yourself.
“Look at me.” He demanded, wiping away some sweat from his brow that in turn wiped away some of his face paint.
Barely able to lift your head, you looked at him. One eye was swollen shut and turning a sicky blue, your jaw hanging limply with a bruise the size of a peach blossoming, you were covered in a thick layer of sweat and blood that stained your work scrubs and tinted your skin. If he’d hit you anymore than he had, you’d probably look like a walking corpse. The thought almost made him giggle, that was, if he wasn’t thinking about the way your blood had tasted on his tongue. His thoughts had strayed from pure torture to his own form of torture porn. His brain was developing sick fantasies of ways he could utilize you. With a broken jaw, he thought of just how wide your mouth could open. Of the pain you’d feel as he throat fucked you as rough as he could, getting off at the sound of your cries as his cock hit the joint that had cracked under his pressure.
The man pushed your shirt up, until it rested on your chest- uncovering your stomach only. The exposure made you shiver slightly, goosebumps rising on your skin as you watched his movements. From his pocket, he pulled something silver that glinted in the light the window provided. “Have you ever wondered how farmers figure out which cattle are theirs when they share communal fields with other farmers?” He asked, the question seeming completely random at such a time.
“No?”
“Well, they use something to mark their cattle. Some farmers like brands, others use tags. Understand? It’s not about making the cattle comfortable, but making them noticeable. You have to know it as soon as you see them or else it's a failure.” The man was so close you could feel the way his hands shook, and telling from his expression it wasn’t out of fear or pain, but out of excitement. Pure adrenaline coated joy was the source of his tremors, which didn’t make sense until you felt something sharp and cold press into your ribcage.
The tip of a knife.
From his pocket, he had drawn a switchblade which he now held to your warm skin- a nagging temptation to just end it now. The ache in his hands begged him to plunge the knife in, to watch the horror on your face as life drained from your body. The idea made his body tense up, blood flooding his cock as it grew in his dusty slacks. The images flashed through his head, fucking into you as you slowly bled to death. Your last living memory of being used by The Joker himself felt like the ultimate sin, it was something he could barely get his mind off of as he pushed the tip of the knife into your skin.
A feral groan left his mouth as blood began to pour from the open wound. It was so fresh, the warm liquid coating his fingers as he tore through the flesh. Every movement made you cry out, adding to his mental store of mastubation material. Your body shook under his touch, cringing away from the pain as he kept going. He was taking his time, going slowly to draw out the raw ecstasy he felt listening to your pathetic whimpering. “You are my cattle now, doll. Understand?” He grunted, chest heaving as he pulled the knife away. On your ribcage sat a capital ‘J’ as a claiming brand, you now belonged to The Joker. One of his many pets, someone he was going to manipulate for the rest of your days on this earth. God help you.
“Y-yes.” You sputtered, taking shallow breaths as the blood loss began to set in. Black spots clouded your vision as you swayed in and out of consciousness. On the floor around you was a large puddle of your blood, more than the amount that was healthy to lose in one sitting- you knew that for sure. Even if you weren’t a nurse, that was still way too much. If you could look in a mirror, you were more than sure that you looked like death itself. A walking reminder of who ran this city.
A sinister smile took to his lips as he nodded gently, “That’s a good girl.” He praised the faux care in his voice causing a knot to form in your stomach. You hated him but you were made to worship him. From the moment you’d begun to work for him, all other things dissolved away. Your life revolved around him now. “Oh boys!~” He sang out, his voice echoing through the empty halls of the old Arkham Asylum.
Was it over?
Two large men in masks came through the door, guns strapped to their hips. They said nothing as they moved across the room, avoiding eye contact with their boss as they unstrapped your arms from the chair. They were the same men from earlier tonight, the two that had haphazardly tossed you into the trunk of a car to bring you to this hellhole. They brought you to your feet, hoisting you up as they drug you out of the room. The ache had begun to settle in your bones, exhaustion coated terror clouding your mind as your slipped from consciousness- left to the mercy of two masked goons.
The Joker watched them take you away, jaw clenching as he saw the way you slumped into their arms. As the door closed, he released a shaky breath. He was alone now, the building had only occupied him and his two men he’d requested to work tonight as his sole goons. Usually, he’d have his entire group here, but he was beyond happy for the solitary confinement of it all. It gave him time to think, it was disgusting- he knew that. That’s why he liked it so much, he was much more of a sicko than most of Gotham knew. He knew one thing for sure, he couldn’t stop fantasizing about the way your blood would coat his cock like a makeshift lubricant. How he could fuck your throat no problem with how much blood had collected in your cheeks, how he didn’t even have to get you wet to take his cock. All he had to do was rub your blood down the shaft and force it in. You’d loosen up eventually for him. You’d grow accustomed to his size and the pain would subside, though he wasn’t sure he wanted it to. He was dying to hear the cries for help that would leave your lips as he bent you over the window seal- pushing you dangerously close to the edge as he took advantage of you. So far from the city that no one could hear you, but so close you could hear the distant sounds of life.
He stepped toward the chair you had been taken from, sitting down in the puddle of your blood that had begun to dry on the metal surface. It seeped into the material of his pants, the now cooled liquid dripping down his thighs as it searched for its home on the floor. His hand trailed down to his crotch, his slacks painfully tight. The man pulled his belt off, discarding it absentmindedly as he made haste to pull his cock free from its restraints. The cool air made him tense up, goosebumps arising on his exposed skin. A deep groan left his mouth as he spread the precum that accumulated on the tip, the sensation sending a jolt through his body. His hand dropped down onto the floor, fingers dipping into the puddle of blood before reconnecting with his stiff cock. The dark red liquid dripped down the shaft, the sight itself enough to make him come unraveled.
His free hand searched his front pocket, pulling out his phone. He turned the camera around on himself, hitting record as he began to pleasure himself. Hand pumping up and down on his cock, elicitng the most erotic noises he’d ever made. The blood was so slick, he could almost imagine how fresh blood would feel. His stomach contracted, head falling back as he recalled those noises he drew out of you earlier. Every whimper you’d let out from his touch, the way your screams sent a thrill throughout his body. He wanted that again, he wanted you back. If he didn’t stop himself, he probably would male his men bring you right back. The idea of locking you up here with him, no escape and no way to say no. A moan slipped through his lips, abs tensing as strings of hot cum shot from his cock. He kept stroking himself, milking every ounce of cum he could. The phone trembled in his hands slightly as he stopped the video, letting himself slump back against the chair. He looked no better than you did, coated in cum and blood as he thought about his next moves.
“Fuck.”
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THE RIDDLER // The Batman {2022}
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littlewriter19 · 1 year
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The Justice League Of America.
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mckinlily · 5 months
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Plot armor but it’s Bruce Wayne’s wealth.
Bruce is one of the richest men in the world. Bruce does not want to be one of the richest men in world.
He starts by implementing high starting salaries and full health care coverages for all levels at Wayne Enterprises. This in vastly improves retention and worker productivity, and WE profits soar. He increases PTO, grants generous parental and family leave, funds diversity initiatives, boosts salaries again. WE is ranked “#1 worker-friendly corporation”, and productively and profits soar again.
Ok, so clearly investing his workers isn’t the profit-destroying doomed strategy his peers claim it is. Bruce is going to keep doing it obviously (his next initiative is to ensure all part-time and contractors get the same benefits and pay as full time employees), but he is going to have to find a different way to dump his money.
But you know what else is supposed to be prohibitively expensive? Green and ethical initiatives. Yes, Bruce can do that. He creates and fund a 10 year plan to covert all Wayne facilities to renewable energy. He overhauls all factories to employ the best environmentally friendly practices and technologies. He cuts contracts with all suppliers that engage in unethical employment practices and pays for other to upgrade their equipment and facilities to meet WE’s new environmental and safety requirements. He spares no expense.
Yeah, Wayne Enterprises is so successful that they spin off an entire new business arm focused on helping other companies convert to environmentally friendly and safe practices like they did in an efficient, cost effective, successful way.
Admittedly, investing in his own company was probably never going to be the best way to get rid of his wealth. He slashes his own salary to a pittance (god knows he has more money than he could possibly know what to do with already) and keeps investing the profits back into the workers, and WE keeps responding with nearly terrifying success.
So WE is a no-go, and Bruce now has numerous angry billionaires on his back because they’ve been claiming all these measures he’s implementing are too expensive to justify for decades and they’re finding it a little hard to keep the wool over everyone’s eyes when Idiot Softheart Bruice Wayne has money spilling out his ears. BUT Bruce can invest in Gotham. That’ll go well, right?
Gotham’s infrastructure is the OSHA anti-Christ and even what little is up to code is constantly getting destroyed by Rogue attacks. Surely THAT will be a money sink.
Except the only non-corrupt employer in Gotham city is….Wayne Enterprises. Or contractors or companies or businesses that somehow, in some way or other, feed back to WE. Paying wholesale for improvement to Gotham’s infrastructure somehow increases WE’s profits.
Bruce funds a full system overhaul of Gotham hospital (it’s not his fault the best administrative system software is WE—he looked), he sets up foundations and trusts for shelters, free clinics, schools, meal plans, day care, literally anything he can think of.
Gotham continues to be a shithole. Bruce Wayne continues to be richer than god against his Batman-ingrained will.
Oh, and Bruice Wayne is no longer viewed as solely a spoiled idiot nepo baby. The public responds by investing in WE and anything else he owns, and stop doing this, please.
Bruce sets up a foundation to pay the college tuition of every Gotham citizen who applies. It’s so successful that within 10 years, donations from previous recipients more than cover incoming need, and Bruce can’t even donate to his own charity.
But by this time, Bruce has children. If he can’t get rid of his wealth, he can at least distribute it, right?
Except Dick Grayson absolutely refuses to receive any of his money, won’t touch his trust fund, and in fact has never been so successful and creative with his hacking skills as he is in dumping the money BACK on Bruce. Jason died and won’t legally resurrect to take his trust fund. Tim has his own inherited wealth, refuses to inherit more, and in fact happily joins forces with Dick to hack accounts and return whatever money he tries to give them. Cass has no concept of monetary wealth and gives him panicked, overwhelmed eyes whenever he so much as implies offering more than $100 at once. Damian is showing worrying signs of following in his precious Richard’s footsteps, and Babs barely allows him to fund tech for the Clocktower. At least Steph lets him pay for her tuition and uses his credit card to buy unholy amounts of Batburger. But that is hardly a drop in the ocean of Bruce’s wealth. And she won’t even accept a trust fund of only one million.
Jason wins for best-worst child though because he currently runs a very lucrative crime empire. And although he pours the vast, vast majority of his profits back into Crime Alley, whenever he gets a little too rich for his tastes, he dumps the money on Bruce. At this point, Bruce almost wishes he was being used for money laundering because then he’s at least not have the money.
So children—generous, kindhearted, stubborn till the day they die the little shits, children—are also out.
Bruce was funding the Justice League. But then finances were leaked, and the public had an outcry over one man holding so much sway over the world’s superheroes (nevermind Bruce is one of those superheroes—but the public can’t know that). So Bruce had to do some fancy PR trickery, concede to a policy of not receiving a majority of funds from one individual, and significantly decrease his contributions because no one could match his donations.
At his wits end, Bruce hires a team of accounts to search through every crinkle and crevice of tax law to find what loopholes or shortcuts can be avoided in order to pay his damn taxes to the MAX.
The results are horrifying. According to the strictest definition of the law, the government owes him money.
Bruce burns the report, buries any evidence as deeply as he can, and organizes a foundation to lobby for FAR higher taxation of the upper class.
All this, and Wayne Enterprises is happily chugging along, churning profit, expanding into new markets, growing in the stock market, and trying to force the credit and proportionate compensation on their increasingly horrified CEO.
Bruce Wayne is one of the richest men in the world. Bruce Wayne will never not be one of the richest men in the world.
But by GOD is he trying.
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randoparody · 30 days
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Local babysitter allows having vegan combo once
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xxxcxcxx · 6 months
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3-rats-in-a-doublet · 1 month
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I've recently fallen back in my DC Robins Era and everytime I see a reference to Tim's photography my first thought is "nice I love photography being mentioned in popular media"
However, my second thought is "how big is his fucking camera lens"
This child is taking presumably high quality photos of Heros In The Middle Of Fights/Patrol AT NIGHT WITH A VERY SMALL AMOUNT OF FLORESCENT LIGHTING FROM THE BUILDINGS
That lens would Have to be At Least 600 dollars (on the low end) (he is rich so I'll let that part slide) but there is no fucking way a 9 year old is lugging that giant ass lens around all night
Pov: You are the 2nd Robin, it's 2am and you turn around to see a Child 2 rooftops away point this shit at u
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lovesick-joey · 1 month
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fyi your dad is a whor—
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comics-centalx · 5 months
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That's right. You better run.
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arguablysomaya · 6 days
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he's well-adjusted now
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mothmoth0 · 1 month
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Silly boy 💖
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angelkissiies · 1 year
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Open hand or closed fist
(the joker x reader x bruce wayne)
part 3/?
CW/TW : paranoia, fear, mentions of trauma and injury, some fluff and bonding. other things I can’t remember so please read with caution because this series is not for the faint of heart or minors.
word count : 3136
a/n : my deepest and most sincere apologies for how long this took, im so sorry if it’s not what you expected. I hope you enjoy ! Also I did not proof read bc damn this is long.
part two here
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Sharp chills ran down your spine as you hesitated at the door of Bruce’s car. The weather had taken a plunge into the negatives as you’d been recuperating in the hospital, yet the chills weren’t from the harsh cold. It came from the realization that your life would be coming to an end, that you were walking directly into the hands of the man who wanted nothing more than the interface. One life to him meant nothing.
“(Y/n)?” Bruce spoke, hand coming to rest on your shoulder. He’d been with you through the entirety of your hospital stay, making sure you weren’t bothered by the GCPD during your recovery. He wished he could say that was his only angle, to be the support you needed- but if he did that would be a lie. He knew there was more to the story, more he needed to uncover to understand what The Joker could want with you. Was it just a random selection? Or was there something else locking you to the clown, something he couldn’t see. Despite everything, he was the perfect company. Card games and movies every night, lunch and dinner provided by some caterer that was much too expensive, and enough understanding of women to know when you needed some time alone.
His voice washed the intrusive thoughts away, like a bucket of cold water had been poured over your brain. “Yeah, sorry.” You apologized, ducking into the car. It was a nice contrast, seeing as you had begun to go mad at the endless off white of the hospital walls. His car was black, the interior a sleek gray- and it was made by some manufacturer you’d never even heard of. Typical though, he was, after all, a billionaire- it would make sense for him to have something expensive.
Bruce nodded gently, closing the car door with a soft click before coming around to the driver's side. The time with you had been fun, but not at all what he’d hoped. No new information could be expelled from you, nothing he didn’t already know so to speak. His only hope was the time you’d spend at the manor, somehow he needed to get you to confide in him. It made him feel guilty, he cared for you more than he’d be willing to admit and what he had planned felt like a massive betrayal. Some things required a filthy conscience. He slipped into the car, quickly closing the door to fight off the cold breeze. “All ready to go?” He asked, sending over a smile.
It took everything in you not to jump out of the car. “Yeah, we should hurry. We might be able to get there before the snow does.” Your body was ridgid, despite the warm air circulating through the car. You thought of the sleepless nights, jumping at every bump in the night. The persistent feeling of impending doom that had yet to subside in the weeks you’d been away, been safe. Something within you knew that you’d never really be safe, even within the fortress that was Wayne manor.. “I heard from the doctor before we left, they think it might turn into a blizzard.”
The car lurched forward, sending the two of you onto the main road. It was slick with patches of black ice, though that stopped nobody from speeding. The city was more alive than usual, the sound of sirens carrying through the streets as more and more people were bested by the elements. “Good thing Alfred stocked the pantries this weekend, or else, I fear we’d be reduced to cannibalism.” He joked, nudging you gently with his free hand. It was his best attempt, you had to give him some credit.
A light laugh fell from your lips as you threw him a smile, “I don’t suppose Alfred and I stand a chance against you.” It was true, the man was much taller, much faster, and much stronger than the butler and yourself.
“Oh definitely not.” The man boasted, taking a sharp turn onto the desolate road that led away from Gotham and towards the Arkham bridge that would take you directly to the main island. The road was barely ever used now, so much so that the Mayor considered closing off the road completely to avoid vandalism to the old asylum. It was pretty much immediately shot down, considering the other islands surrounding Arkham island would be almost completely inaccessible by car. Bruce was one of the voices opposing the shut down, more or less for the fact one of his family's homes sat on the land. “I don’t think I’d eat you though, you know too much about anatomy- you’d be too useful. I don’t think i’d be able to figure out which parts you can eat and-” He paused, letting out a slight laugh. “And I think I might be thinking about this too much. I promise I'm not a cannibal.”
You looked at him incredulously, letting out a deep belly laugh that sent a shooting pain into your ribs. “Bruce, I don’t think you could hurt a fly. Let alone eat someone.” It genuinely was one of the funniest things you’d ever heard, the man was probably the last person you could see yourself being scared of. The only hindrance in your joy was the aching that followed. Your ribs had taken to a steady throbbing pain, worsening with every deep breath- somehow, no matter what you did or even didn’t do, the constant reminder of the joker nipped the joy you felt.
Bruce had a content look on his face, biting back the urge to make a comment that might out him as the city's vigilante. It felt different after all this time, even though you were still the same person you were before the assault, he could feel something pulling you away from him. A nagging savior complex wanted to fly you away, somewhere far from this shithole of a city, though internally he knew The Joker had no limits to his insanity. He’d scoure the earth until he found his prize heffer. “So, have you been to Arkham Island before?” He asked, filling the silence that had settled thick between the two of you.
The trees passed by in a blur of white and green, the land around the cursed asylum finally beginning to heal. “Once, a long time ago. Wasn’t pleasant.” You responded, hugging your coat tighter as the frosty pane of the window came into contact with your hand. Even after all of this time, even after setting on the fact that Bruce could never know, you still had to resist the urge to confide in him. He’d stuck by you the past few weeks, sparing no expense to get you the best care, the best entertainment, the best company. He’d become a better friend than you’d imagined was possible, yet there was no way you could trust him enough to endanger his life.
Was anything really ever worth a life? Was your life worth this much effort? Why couldn’t you just end all of this? Whatever that might entail. Whether it be seeking The Joker out to live your life as he saw fit or taking matters into your own hands. Both were equally horrible outcomes, though they both seemed to be endgame. Which was the both of two evils, and would you ever be sure?
From the road you could make out the silhouette of a looming fence, the dark silver poking out of the snow like a sore thumb. It looked old, dated in style- which solidified your fears. This house wouldn’t be as protected as Wayne Manor would've been, sub par security from back before the Wayne’s were murdered and a lock and key gate made for a bad situation. Your eyes focused in on the tire tracks that laid ahead, the snow packed down where Alfred had arrived a day earlier. You had to admit, the idea of seeing the old man again lightened your heart. He had become a close friend during your stays at the manor, offering you tea whilst you worked on repairing the millionaire or steaming your coat without asking to make sure it would be warm for you before you left. His kindness was unmatched for the most part.
As Bruce parked outside the gate, he dug through his pockets- pulling out a key the size of an iphone before pushing his door open. “Just one second, the locks on the place haven’t been changed in awhile, so key it is.” He smiled, stepping out into the nippy winter air, the car door closing behind him. The man felt uneasy, though he played it off to his best ability, the creeping feeling of uncomfort being chalked down to your curious eyes that peered at him through the windshield. His hand shook slightly as he pushed the large metal key into the lock, turning it with a great deal of force before it gave way the the locking mechanisms yielded. The smell of copper filled his nostrils, making him cringe before pushing the gate inwards, as he mentally noted the fact that this place needed an upgrade. Truth was, he hadn;t been back here in years. The old place had been left to the elements, and with the sight of the manor, he definitely could tell the wear and tear was taking over the exterior.
The manor looked much larger than most would’ve imagined, built of stone and dark oak- it resembled that of a hunting lodge in the mountains. The rough stone had been left to the forest as moss began to creep up the sides of the building, creating a beautiful entanglement as if the history of the island had not tainted it yet. As you squinted towards the house to see more, a figure in the window caught your attention. The small lengthy frame belonged to Alfred, who stood waving the two of you in from the warmth of the manor. The sight brought a small giggle to you, imagining how long he had been there trying to catch the attention of the billionaire.
Bruce returned to the car only seconds later, causing a huff of freezing hair to rush in- violating the pleasant warmth that had settled on your skin. His hands were shaking slightly and his fingers had gained a bright pink hue from the harsh cold of the gate. “So, what do you think?” He asked, shifting the car into drive as he began creeping down the driveway.
You gave a small nod, letting your eyes explore the property. It was different, to say the least. After being stuffed inside of a dreary hospital room for so long, this was like being in a completely different country. The snow was pristine white, untouched. Unlike the melting, blackened snow you’d seen on your way out of Gotham. The air held silence, thick and looming in the absence of life. From the moment you;d crossed from the bridge onto the island, you’d heard nothing but the soft hum of the engine and Bruce’s voice. It was almost as if Arkham had become completely different in the weeks since your ‘visit.’ It was scary anymore, you could see every abandoned driveway and empty house. Hell, even the snow reflected that nobody else had been out this way, no tire tracks or footsteps as far as the eye could see. “It feels serene out here, It’s really lovely.”
A small smile tugged at his lips as he came to a stop at the front entrance, “I’m glad you like it,” He said, turning the car off with a slight twist of the ignition. “It’s you and me, roomie, till further notice.”
As if on cue, Alfred scurried out of the manor bundled in one of the largest coats you’ ever seen. Anything you might’ve thought had completely vanished at the sight, the poor man could barely bend his arms in the thing making it a rather funny sight as he attempted to open the car door. You let out a small chuckle before opening it yourself, allowing the man the chance to step out of the way.
He graciously took it as he held the door open, “Welcome! I’m glad you two made it safely.” He spoke, offering his hand as you stepped out onto the half frozen ground. The snow crunched under your feet, prompting a small smile from the man before you. “Isn’t it lovely? I’ve been trying to get Master Bruce here to visit for ages.” Alfred let his eyes move to Bruce, squinting as he poked fun at him.
Bruce groaned in annoyance, the hint of a smile evident on his rosy cheeks, “Yeah, yeah. Thanks for that, Al.” He moved around the car, ushering the two of you up the stairs like a cattle dog before the conversation went on any longer. He knew how carried away his butler could get, which would lead to the pair of you getting hypothermia. As the two of you disappeared into the home, he lingered at the front door for a moment, he could feel something. Though there was no reason to, he found himself looking over his shoulder, peering back to watch for a threat. Something didn’t feel right, though maybe it could all be summed up to the feelings that arose in connection with his family's manor, but he couldn’t be sure. After all, the whole reason any of you were here was to ensure your safety. The Joker could be around any corner, watching through thousands of hidden eyes, awaiting the perfect moment to strike- so if there was one thing he knew without a doubt, it’s that he couldn’t get comfortable here.
Upon entering the home, you were hit with the strong scent of apples. It wafted through the hallways from the kitchen, the smell alone was enough to make your stomach grumble.”Alfred, It smells incredible in here, what are you making?” You wondered, taking in the decor of the house. It was definitely fancy, but it looked as if someone had a strong affinity for artwork as more than half of the walls were filled with beautifully painted pieces accompanied with framed family photos.
Alfred chuckled, turning briefly to make eye contact with you. “Apple strudels, they’re one of Bruce’s favorite sweets.” With that, he turned back and led you through a confusing labyrinth of a corridor. After a couple minutes of following the leader, he stopped before the bottom of a staircase which led to the left wing suites on the second floor. “I would accompany you up to your room, but I don't want to risk burning our snack. Your room is the third door down the right hall.”
You could tell he felt guilty, so you gave him a smile, nodding complacently. “Thank you, Alfred. Are my things up there by chance, I was wanting to maybe grab a shower.” During your hospital stay, the doctor was very adamant about keeping your stitching dry- so you’d only been able to shower three times, which left you feeling incredibly gross. The idea of being clean again was enough to make your entire night.
“Of course, The bathroom is also stocked with some things you might need.” He confirmed as he began back towards a door adjacent to the one the two of you had come through. He seemed to know this place better than Bruce did, which didn’t seem as much of a surprise- as he’d been with the family for more years than you could count.
The silence began to set in as you began up the stairs. It was reminiscent of your trek up to your apartment in Gotham. You’d spent months making the most out of the six floor hike up to your place, as the elevator had just completely given out randomly, so this was a piece of cake. Before you knew it, the landing was a few feet away littered with boxes filled with what looked like more framed photos. It was peculiar because the boxes looked old and worn, as if the Waynes had begun to pack up the house long before their deaths had transpired. ‘Not your business.’ You had to remind yourself. The topic had always (and would always) be a tender spot with the duo downstairs. You wrapped your arms around yourself tightly, taking the right turn down the hallway you’d be staying in. It wasn’t hard to pick out the door that now belonged to you, as it was the only one not covered in a thick layer of dust.
Upon first glance inside, you took note of the two bags that sat in the middle of the king sized bed. Undoubtedly, they were filled with fresh clothes and the other miscellaneous things you’d asked to be picked up from your apartment. As you gazed around you noted that the room was warmed by a fireplace, which sat burning behind a grill to keep the debris from entering the room. It all was incredibly beautiful, as the room took a rich red hue. Linens and decor alike were painted in shades of red and black, giving the room a gothic feel. You moved inwards, allowing the door to close behind you with a thud.
You sat down on the edge of the bed, moving to grab one of the bags. As you pulled it to yourself, a small box fell to the floor by your feet- seemingly after being wedged somewhere between your belongings. “Now, what is this?” You asked aloud, to no-one in particular, as you used your foot to bring the thing closer. Once within reach, you took it from its resting place on the floor. It was a small red box that had been tied shut with a white ribbon. It held no markings or branding, which is why you spared no time pulling the ribbon loose and gently removing the lid.
You felt yourself choke, letting the box fall to your feet once more. There was no way, this place was safe. It was Bruce Wayne’s house for Christ's sake. It hadn’t been empty since Alfred arrived yesterday, which meant that whoever snuck this in- was here when Alfred was, how else would they be able to get the box into your things? Your heart was hammering in your chest, eyes jumping down to land on the contents of your supposed ‘gift.’
A small silver chain with a dainty ‘J’ charm attached lay almost hidden in the carpet, the red hue enveloping it like a pool of blood. Inside the lid, which remained on the bed, was a note. With shaking hands, you unfolded it.
God, how you wished you’d never read it.
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THE BATMAN [2022]
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brucewaynehater101 · 1 month
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When a Robin sheds their uniform to uptake a new role, the goons and Rogues cry out in fear.
Robins are absolutely feral demon spirits that cause unparalleled levels of chaos. Batman may terrify criminals, but Robins are more likely to steal your actual soul. They aren't as bad as the Dark Knight, but somehow that shadow creature is the only reason Robins don't obliterate everyone and everything. Somehow, those traffic light colors prevent the kids from becoming worse. Robin is a symbol of hope, and the child in the costume tries to live up to that.
After the current Robin sheds the mantle?
Now, there's a "new" vigilante with less rules and less supervision. Also, chances are extremely high that another Robin will pop up by the end of the week.
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pichichu-studio · 3 months
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Inspired by this video 💀
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