Strange

;-;

Marcel/Compass *on his first week on the team*: why is there blood everywhere???

Cheis: i may have aggressively poked someone with a knife

Marcel: yoU STABBED SOMEONE

Cheis: no no no, i aggressively poked them with a knife

Princess of Gotham

Summary

Extra1: The First Night

Chapter 1: Eclipse

Chapter 2: Wayne Manor

Chapter 3: Family

Chapter 4: Batcave

Chapter 5: Blackbird

Chapter 6: Shadows

Chapter 7: Scorpion and Poison

Chapter 8: Warriors Society

Chapter 9: Plan

Chapter 10: Red Robin

Chapter 11: Father & Daughter

Chapter 12: Sunday & Moral Codes

Chapter 13: Photographs & Warnings

Chapter 14: Meetings & Snakes

Chapter 15: Fear & Secrets

Chapter 16: Heroes or Vigilantes

Chapter 17: Clown Without Jokes

Chapter 18: News in the Woods

Chapter 19: Coffee with Friends

Chapter 20: Bad Days & More Plans

Chapter 21: A Dark Soul

Chapter 22: The First Encounter

Chapter 23: Confidence Movements

Chapter 24: Troubled Family

Chapter 25: Truths & Problems

Chapter 26: What A Bullet Destroys

Crazy

I think I'm crazy. Since yesterday I'm hearing things and I don't know where these sounds come from.

Yesterday was a piano, with a lovely melody, but my pc had the earphones plugged and I was in the kitchen, and the radio was playing another kind of song, with another rhythm.

And today, in the middle of my economy class, while everyone was with their microphone off, I hear a whistle through my right ear. My parents were in the same room as me, and neither of them seem to be doing the sound, and the TV didn't have enough volume to be heard so clearly, and in the case it had, wouldn't hear it only through my right ear.

I remember trying to contact Apollo, but instead, I think I contacted Hermes, it's great, but know these sounds are confusing me

jason: bruce, mataste al joker, ¿verdad?

bruce: ¿cómo te explico?

jason, haciendo su plan de secuestrar al payaso: mamaste

normalmente no hago posts en español pero se me acaba de ocurrir un headcanon de jason: (si hablara español) sería el wey que le diría 'mamaste' a cualquier delincuente que lo hiciera enojar jsjsj

like,

jason: podemos hacer esto por las buenas o por las malas, dime quién es tu informante

delincuente: *escupe en el zapato de jason*

jason:

delincuente:

jason: mamaste *procede a dispararle en la pierna*

no necesariamente se lo dice solo a delincuentes y villanos, la usa en todas partes porque es su maldición fav, le gusta como suele intimidar a las personas:

jason: dick, ¿sabes dónde está mi barra de granola que guardé en la mañana?

dick: ¿la que estaba en la barra de la cocina? ¿una con arándanos??

jason: si.

dick, sudando frío: a

jason: mamaste

dick: *huye por su vida*

probably gonna get shot on site for this but oh well

it is okay if you don't know literally every single detail about canon. It's okay!!! Its okay if you haven't seen every movie. It's okay if you never read the books. Its okay if you haven't seen every episode. Its okay if you haven't read every comic. Its okay if most of the stuff you know came from reading fanfic. Its okay if you have literally never touched the source material. Its okay if all you do is interact with tumblr posts or fanart. Its okay if you decide to make up your own version of events even if they contradict canon completely.

Fandom spaces do not exist to be policed. Fandom spaces do not exist to be gatekept. If you don't know each and every detail then its okay because fanspaces exist for you to fill in the cracks with whatever it is you like. You can literally headcanon whatever, no one can stop you. you have my permission to go crazy

Inspiración

La creatividad me pesa.

Despiertan tantas ideas que no puedo plasmar.

Y plasmo ideas a medias que nunca llegaron a mas.

Me siento pesada.

Con tantas ideas y tan poca habilidad.

Necesito tiempo y organización.

En ocasiones siento que tengo todo el tiempo del mundo

Pero otras siento que todo se me viene encima

Tengo tanto en la cabeza y tan poco tiempo.

Quiero hacerlo todo y a la vez no puedo hacer nada

Incluso si la inspiración vaga por mi mente no puedo expresarlo

Las dudas asaltan mi cabeza.

Se responden solas o simplemente mueren ahí.

La inspiración me llega diario.

Y a todas horas.

I only saw you once

I only saw you once, and I was already dreaming of you.

You only spoke to me once and I was already imagining your hand against mine.

You only greeted me once and in my mind wandered all the topics we could talk about.

And the more you talked to me the more I felt my mind wander through those scenarios.

And then anxiety would strike.

What if you only talked to me out of guilt?

What if you only said hello to me because you needed something in the end?

What if this is all just your way of getting something out of me?

Your way of manipulating me until I'm at your feet and do everything you tell me to do.

Your way of proving that I'll always let you walk all over me.

And then your message comes through and everything seems to cease to exist.

The anxiety, the imaginary scenarios.

Am I falling in love with you or with the illusion?

The one I like because it makes me feel good.

It makes me feel that I'm finally worth something.

That I'm not just one more in the system.

And then you ask me to help you with something.

You ask me to do homework together and I don't refuse because finally having someone else's company makes me feel good.

But the same thought comes back to my mind.

I imagine again the pain of rejection.

What will my life be like once you stop talking to me?

And if you hear those rumors from people, what will you think of me?

Will you stop talking to me or pretend you never heard them?

Or will you accept them and tell me to my face what a shitty person I am? And you'll leave and I'll be the same as in the beginning, alone.

Cold in my professions and in my friendships.

Modifying a little bit Hamilton's famous line.

And like him, pretending to give minimal importance to personal relationships.

Trying to keep myself free of any particular attachment.

And keep my happiness independent of the caprices of others.

If you ever leave I'll again be wondering when a person will come along who will truly stay with me.

I will be called manipulative at the end of this text

But believe me that midnight is when I become the most sincere.

Because my mind is so weak that it doesn't rest.

And I think about it so much that I don't sleep peacefully.

And I hope that after all this if you ever find out who wrote this, and that it was meant for you, don't leave.

Stay and assure me that you will never leave.

Just make me believe for a few seconds that I am no longer alone.

And let me see you one more time

Midnight Thoughts

UwU

Oswald/Scorpion: [is choking]

Jared/Poison: Help! I need to call 911 but the 9 button isn't working!

Rai/Hakan: Just turn the phone upside down and use the 6!

Jared: Genius!

Oswald: [stops chocking momentarily] what the fuck

Troubled Romantic who is Heir to a Great Fortune (yes please, i need the money)

For anyone who’s ever wondered who they’d be in a 19th century novel

The wait is over: 19th Century Character Trope Generator

I'm "Meddlesome Bachelor with 2,000 pounds a year" yes please sign me up

Princess of Gotham

Chapter 10: Red Robin

I went out into the street, making sure there was no one on the street. I sat down on the sidewalk, leaning my back against a lamppost. Assana and Olive had already left, and it felt rude to ask them to come back for me.

Being the good sister that I am, I had to wait for James and Jim to finish talking, but apparently, they had a lot to tell each other, as it took them a long time to leave. When I noticed that I was falling asleep I decided to call my father to pick me up and take me home. But when a motorcycle parked in front of me, I noticed it wasn't Jason.

"What are you doing here?" I asked the boy standing next to his bike. I got up from my uncomfortable seat, shaking off my clothes and shaking off sleep.

"Your father sent me. Apparently, something happened in Arkham while we were patrolling." Timonthy replied, approaching me and inviting me to get on his bike.

"I prefer to go alone, thank you very much." I said, trying to be polite and that my nerves of being next to him would not be noticed. I started walking down the street, towards the main avenues, without noticing that he was following me.

"My brother trusts me to get you home safely," he said, grabbing my wrist with his hand, not only making me stop, but also making me turn around and stand too close to him. "You're still angry about what happened the last time we talked."

"We weren't talking, you were yelling at me in front of my team. You embarrassed the hell out of me," I said, as I tried to break free from his grip, unsuccessfully, as he squeezed my wrist so hard I was afraid it would leave a mark.

A few months ago, he and I had had a loud argument in the Wayne Manor library, when my partners joined us for a study session. We had started out arguing about my responsibilities as team leader, it came to a point where he threw my father's identity in my face, telling me that I had the thief gene in my blood. That time I couldn't resist and hit him in the face with my shadow. He was about to hit me back, but we were interrupted by the arrival of Tim's then-girlfriend, Stephanie Brown.

The two of them also started arguing, one of the many reasons they broke off their relationship. And that was the first of many fights we would have, and in the future, would cause situations like this.

"I already apologized, but you didn't want to listen to me," he said, almost shouting, while he kept squeezing my hand.

"Let me go, you're hurting me," I shouted, trying to get out of his grip, but to no avail. "I said let me go!" I panicked when I noticed that his grip was getting stronger. I didn't have to think much about my next move. My shadow grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him to the ground. Finally getting him to let go of my hand.

When the shadow completely returned to my hand, I started to run back towards the building I had come from. But as I was almost at the door, someone from behind put his hand on my shoulder stopping me. Like an instinct, my body tensed and the shadow went to that hand.

"You have a right to be angry, but at least let me take you home," Tim said in a peaceful voice, trying to calm his breathing.

"I'll sleep in the apartment, thank you," I said, letting go of his hand, starting to walk, this time, in the direction of Jason's house.

After adopting me, Jason asked Bruce for some money to buy an apartment in a central area, at first he refused, but after a few months, he accepted. Sometimes we used it, but usually, we stayed at Wayne Manor or, in Jason's case, at a hotel.

"No. You're not sleeping there," he protested, stepping in front of me and carrying me like a sack, "Guys, I'm taking my niece. I'll see you another day, good night," he shouted, trying to make sure those still inside could hear him.

We could still see the reflections of the lights in the windows, so we could tell that someone was still there.

"Put me down. I can walk by myself," I started kicking and hitting him on the back in an attempt to get him to put me down.

"After not sleeping all night and running on sugary drinks, I don't think you can even tell the difference between a horse and a donkey," he said, sitting me down on his bike.

"Because of some people I couldn't even drink that. And I'm not that sleepy, I haven't slept for almost a week, this is nothing. I am capable enough to stand in front of my team and give them orders." I replied, rather angrily, when he sat down in front of me and started.

"Hold still," he said, as he put on his helmet and started to move forward. And even though I didn't want to, I had to hold on to him to avoid falling out of that vehicle.

The trip lasted a little more than half an hour, and during that time neither of us said a word. When we arrived at the Batcave, I didn't even wait for him to stop and I got off as fast as I could.

I quickly greeted my father. I stood next to him, looking at one of the computer screens. As I looked closely at one of them, I noticed that the Scarecrow and Joker files were open.

"Why do both files say they are free," Timonthy asked, standing behind me.

"They escaped in the wee hours of the morning, a changing of the guard that took a few seconds too long," Batman explained, tapping the keyboard.

"Why didn't we find out sooner?" asked Assana, approaching me, and then placing her hand on my shoulder, apparently trying to reassure me.

"I didn't want you to worry too much," answered Bruce.

"My life is a mess," I muttered.