briannaprisca-blog

[briannaprisca-blog]

Young God Chapter Four

“Hey it’s Angela! Leave a message.” 

“Hey,” pant “It’s me Lydia” pant “I would just like you to know that I’m trying to continue our tradition of running at 4 A.M., except it’s 11 A.M. and I’m actually just running to go get food, so it’s pointless. But call me when you can, Angel!” 

As I finished the call, I hung up stopping to catch my breath. I felt like an idiot in my bright blue sports bra and sports leggings on. My hair was curly and pulled up instead of straight. I was really sweaty and before Alfred could leave to get us groceries, I offered cause I needed the exercise. But thinking about, I realized I’d have to walk back home with bags of food or 

I could feel the stares on me as my sweaty self went down the freezer isle, looking for pizza. Chuckling to myself when I realize that Bruce and Alfred may not like what I have to get. I made a mental note to myself to get rich brand stuff, whatever that meant. 

“Hey.” a nervous voice came from behind me and I swiveled around to see Ben McCoy, a guy I worked with. I pretended to be thrilled that he was seeing me outside the office and probably smelling all my BO. 

“Hey, Beeeen.” 

He was smiling at me nervously and wearing an over sized black jacket that covered what little body fat he had on him. He was skinny and about the same height as me almost. 

“Hi, um. This is gonna sound weird, but would you like to go out sometime?” 

My eyes widened and I felt awful cause I almost laughed. 

“Um.. Ben-”

“I can take you out to that new restaurant they have on 21st Avenue?” 

I stared at into his hopeful eyes feeling guilty. He was really cute. Really cute. He looked like a nerd and his hair was blonde, slicked back, and his eyes were a pretty green. But, my heart belonged already to someone else. 

“Ben, I’m married already to someone-”

His sweet and innocent, happy look turned dark all of a sudden. 

“You wear no ring.” 

I was taken back and I could feel my face turn from faking happiness to a mean scowl. I could see him gulp and almost see his dick go between his legs when I put my hand on my hip, cocking my head to the side.

“No. I don’t wear a ring. But I’ve had this necklace since I was 15. It says J. That’s my soulmate’s name from me to you. And my last name is Napier. My name is Lydia Napier. Which is his last name. So don’t come at me with wearing no ring, I’m loyal.”

His face went through a very funny process of emotions; scared, sad, mad, and now defeated. 

I could tell he was still mad and if he decided to touch, the poor gallon of milk next to me would be my weapon. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it and then walked fast away from me almost hitting an elderly woman on his way out the door.

“Dickhead.” 

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Staring down at my old, black converse I thought about what I said to Ben. 

Married. 

Dumbass. You never said you didn’t meet him yet. But he does exist, so that counts for something. 

Dammit I better get brownie points for staying a virgin this fucking long Jack. 

I was wearing high-waisted blue jean shorts and a Jack Daniels tank top, which was just an ironic inside joke on my part. My hair was now clean and free of sweat and extra curly. The black curly mess was laying down my back and I had a pink band holding it back from my face. 

Bruce didn’t approve of my attire, but I simply said that Lydia Napier doesn’t care about how rich she is and how she should look. 

We were getting on each other’s nerves lately and it had to do with my previously approved and published work about The Joker. When asked about my sudden anger towards him, I never said anything about him being my sworn enemy, but we had a very heated argument about how stupid I was for wanting to start a project on a man who doesn’t care about going on killing sprees of groups or individuals, and that if I find even a speck of dirt on him, he’ll come hunting for me. 

He was right, but we’re both stubborn so we’ve been assholes to each other like we were when we were 15. 

Leaning back in my chair and putting my legs on the table, I stared at Bruce being the old man he is, reading through the newspaper. 

“I’m gonna try to get an interview with people from Arkham about The Joker.” 

As I said it, I almost regretted it but seeing Bruce getting annoyed only made me smile at him. He slapped the newspaper on the table and then looked at me seriously, his eyes showing no emotion along with his face. 

“If you do this, there is only so much I can do to protect you.”

I scoffed at him, watching as he smacked at my legs to come off of the table. I hopped up and started skipping to the door.

“Oh, little brother you do enough by housing your older twin, ya know the one who’s very far right now, in Seattle?” 

“Where are you going??” He yelled after me, this almost becoming a tradition. 

Throwing on a green and black checkered flannel little thin jacket, unbuttoned on, I turned to see him looking at me with raised eyebrows. 

“An adventure. I wanna go sight seeing.” 

I smiled at him as I grabbed a motorcycle helmet. He glared at me and then smirked. Looking me up and down he then said, “I hope you know nothing you’re wearing matches.” 

“Cool.” I threw my pink headband at him, no longer needing it. “Maybe I’ll meet J and he can see all he has to look forward to!” 

Let’s just say while running out the door, I got hit back with my headband. 

I ran down the little path that lead to a row of lovely cars and then when to a carport that had the beautiful row of motorcycles. 

The one I bought when I was 15 was still there sitting next to Bruce’s bright red one. Mine was a custom made chrome light blue and by now it was heavily out dated, but I could care less. I hadn’t ridden a motorcycle for several years so the fact that I could roll it out onto the driveway was a damn miracle. 

I put my helmet on and hopped on the motorcycle, swinging my short legs to the other side. I put my rusty key in and turned it, then pressed the red button sitting next to the handle bars. The bike turned on, which was good and while holding the break in and reviving the engine up, I smiled the biggest smile I’ve smiled in a while. 

I raced forward and pretended that my short form wasn’t having any trouble holding up the humongous bastard of a bike. 

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I drove around for about 30 minutes before I my butt started vibrating and I realized sadly it was my boss after checking the screen of my phone. 

“Hello, Lydia Napier?”, I reluctantly said, shutting the engine off of my bike. 

“Hi Lydia, I need you to come in for a short while.” 

I looked down at my attire before nervously speaking to him, “But, uh Mr. Furn I’m not really dressed for work and I’m not at home right now-” 

I was interrupted, rudely I might add. 

“Lydia that doesn’t matter, just come here for a short while. It won’t take that long and I don’t care if your clothing is not office or work approved.” 

And before I could speak another word, I heard a click , and then the familiar sound of someone being an ass; hanging up on you. 

Ughhhhhhhhh 

I let out a horrible sound of either grief or annoyance or both. 

I really wish I would’ve brought that headband now. 

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Parking very, very far away from any co-workers, I got out and took my helmet off. I decided that in Gotham, it’s better if I just carry the damn thing on my hip along with my keys. Can’t trust anyone not to steal anything now a days. 

I flipped my curly and now ruffled hair over my shoulder and hated how it was ten times worse now that the thick air has hit it. 

I groaned and stomped my way up to the entrance, watching as two of my co-workers came out, Stacy and Sara. Bitches. They were scoffing at me in front of my face, but I didn’t care. 

You can see your black bra on the side of your tank top Lydia what the hell do you expect. 

My eyes widened and my face reddened with embarrassment as I walked past our nice receptionist, Julia, but even she was speechless. 

My attire wasn’t that bad, but when you work here it’s different. 

“Ly-”

I put my hand up to stop any words coming from her mouth.

“Don’t, Julia.” 

I all but ran to the elevators, happy to be away from everyone, then realizing I was gonna be on my floor. Where literally everyone knows me. Because. I. Work. Right. Next. To. Them. 

Oh, great. 

As soon as I heard the familiar ding of the doors opening, a lump formed in my throat. 

When I stepped out though, it was silent. Too silent. No typing, no phones ringing. Nothing. And the lights were half out on one side of the room. The blinds were all shut, too. 

I looked for other co-workers, but I only saw the top of their heads, and taking a peak in one of their cubicles, I got starred at by the one and only Ben McCoy who was sitting in his chair. He was staring at me in...fear? His face was white and he was hunched over like he wanted his oversized jacket to swallow him whole. His computer was off and he wasn’t doing anything. He didn’t say anything and he suddenly stopped looking at me. 

I could feel my legs starting to move to the bosses office, which was at the front of the room, separated from any of our cubicles. His door was closed....his door was closed. It was never closed. 

I knocked. And I could hear shuffling behind the door before my boss’ voice filled the air. 

“Co-Come in?” It sounded like a question and the scary part about it was that he gagged after he said it and suddenly I felt like I was in a horror movie. I didn’t know what to think about the situation and it was as if my brain just shut off. 

I closed my eyes as the door creaked open slowly after I opened it. I could hear myself starting to breath heavily and despite my inner self telling me to run, it also felt like I wasn’t even in control of my body anymore. 

“Ha Ha He-He HA Haaaa.” A nasally, deep voice filled the air and shivers went down my spine. 

Opening my eyes only confirmed the only thought rushing through my mind right now. 

The Joker. It’s The Joker. It’s The Joker. 

I could hear myself involuntarily whimper at the site of him in a long purple trench coat holding Mr. Furn by the neck and a knife to his jugular. He had a vest on underneath and he turned his head from my boss to me. 

Make-up. His red smile and white smeared face was looking at me. His black eyes were looking at me. 

“Hello, Lydia. You, uh, wanna sit down?” His voice was weird. The way he said it every single word was weird. He was weird. 

Mr. Furn stared at me with fear in his eyes and just as he started to shake his bald head at me, the Joker tightening his grip. 

“Sit down, or I’ll slice his throat. Do you really wanna, uh, stain the carpet?” He laughed a high pitch giggle and I cringed away from the sound. I rushed to the chair that was in front of the huge desk, only realizing in doing what he asked, I had made myself come closer to him. 

The Joker tilted his head at me and then walked towards me, letting go of Mr. Furn, who looked like he had just pissed his pants. 

He got closer to me and just as he growled, leaning downwards to my face, I turned my head. 

He laughed again. 

“Look at you, not soooo confident now huh? So, uh, were you planning on getting your information on um interviewing me for the paper or...what!” He growled the last word into my face, making me close my eyes, and wish I just never came. 

I cowered away, wanting to cry when I felt his breath fan over my cheek. 

“Look. At. Me.” He said it so quietly, but it was menacingly enough that I opened my eyes and slightly turned my head just enough to see his yellow teeth and his big red smile looking at me. He liked seeing me scared. 

“What do you want?” I heard myself say quietly and if I wasn’t the one who said it, I would’ve cringed. I spoke to him. I spoke to him. Oh my gosh, I spoke to him. 

Looking up at his eyes, he chuckled in his chest, an ugly laugh. A creepy one...

Then, grabbed my face and put the knife to lips. He wasn’t cutting into them, but it was enough for to let out a whimper of fear. I looked past him at Mr. Furn to see him completely ignoring the situation I was put in, happy he wasn’t the main target anymore. 

“Well, Lydia Napier,” He said the name with such disgust, I flinched. He licked his lips, it made a loud noise in the quiet room, and I grabbed onto my necklace because I was so scared.

“-if you uh cooperate like a good little princess, then well maybe you’ll live. But, seeing as I’m not really in a caring mood right now, you better hope you’ve already taken care of funeral bills.” 

He laughed again as my face went white and I felt sweaty, and dirty with his face so close to mine. 

I’m sorry, J. 

His laugh stopped suddenly when my boss interjected finally. 

“Her name is Lydia Wayne. Not Lydia Napier. She can give you all the money you want. Just let us go.” 

My mouth dropped and my boss seemed pleased with himself. 

The Joker didn’t look so pleased. But he displayed a blank expression as he slowly turned from me to my boss, then back to me. 

“Lydia Wayne? Huh?” He tsked at me and licked his lips once more before gripping my face harder. 

“Then, why go by Lydia Napier? Mhm? Mhmmm.” He lifted my hair up on both sides with his knife before caressing the side of my face with it. His stare glared down at me and I could see him running his tongue over his scars on the inside of his mouth. 

“I-It’s my soulmates last name.”, I told him hushingly, feeling his tight grip loosen on my face before he let go completely. 

I heard a growl come from his chest before he broke the window with a gun I didn’t know he had until now. The shot rang out and outside the door, you could hear a few gasps and quiet yelps. 

I felt him come closer to me and I opened my eyes to stare at him. He was standing over me and wasn’t crouching anymore. His emotionless glare was unwavering as he asked me, “What’s your prince’s first name? Huh?” 

And when I didn’t answer, cause I didn’t want to answer, he hit the desk with his fist, making me jump. 

“What. Is. His. First. Name?” And as he said it, he got up next to my face again, holding the knife to my cheek. 

That only made me grip my necklace harder and as if he could sense me gripping it so tightly, he looked down at my hand over the shiny, lilac diamond necklace. 

I let go of it slightly, so he could see the shiny ‘J’ resting on my chest. That’s all he would get. Or I would say his name is Jay. 

Suddenly, he pulled back from me all together and started to howl in laughter. I looked at him in shock. I didn’t know what he found funny besides maybe me lying to him, and I knew he knew I was lying to him. 

He didn’t stop laughing until there were police sirens heard from outside. 

He groaned as he held the gun up to my boss while looking at me, “Always going to be traitors huh princess?” 

He shot him. 

Then, he knocked me in the head with the bottom of the gun. 

Darkness. 

[briannaprisca-blog]

Young God Chapter Three

“Lydia Napier?”, the gruff, very annoyingly tall boss of The Gotham Paper muttered at me, flipping through my portfolio. 

Highly doubt you’re reading that fast good sir

I cleared my throat, sitting straight up, and smoothing down the grey dress I wore.

“Y-Yes that’s my professional pen-name-”

“But your legal name is Lydia Wayne?”

“Yes, Sir but-”

“So, because you’re the estranged twin sister of Bruce Wayne I should hire you?” He said, very loudly I might add, walking around his desk, carelessly throwing away my portfolio. 

I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

“No, sir. That’s why I want to go by Lydia Napier whether it’s for my work or beyond a pen-name. I prefer using Napier as my last name. And I don’t wanna be reminded that I’m the Wayne daughter that runaway at 16. Now, if you’d like to send me out then start a tabloid about how Lydia Wayne is back, then go ahead but you’ll be talking to my lawyer as soon as you publish anything about me.” I leaned closer and closer glaring my icy eyes at him.

He looked angry almost, almost. He chuckled as he set down rubbing his face. 

“So, Lydia Napier, when can you start?” 

I smiled as I told him, “Anytime Mr. Furn.” 

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“Lydia Napier. Napier, Napieeeer.” 

My brother kept repeating the last name almost angrily and I knew he was waiting for me to say something about it at breakfast as he read the new article I wrote in the paper and I rolled my eyes. 

Clutching my necklace before getting up to grab my coat, I said very loudly, “It’s J’s last name, Brucey. No need to get upset!” 

I could hear him chocking on his milk as I slammed the door behind me. 

I shook my head jiggling my keys all the way to my Nissan Altima, chuckling at Bruce’s cars compared to my one and only. 

I didn’t care though, money meant nothing to me. 

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Driving to work was the longest 20 minutes of my life, I started to notice every morning since I’ve been in Gotham and it was mostly because between 6 A.M. and 6:30 A.M. all the radio stations wanted to play was the morning news and podcasts, but of course no music barely ever. 

“Fuck. My. Life.” And as I said that, I spoke too soon. Because as I wasn’t really listening to the radio and was waiting for the dickhead in front me to realize the light had turned green two minutes ago, the woman on the radio said something that made me almost have a stroke. 

“...We are just getting reports there was another robbery by The Joker and this time he left no survivors and if you had any money in Gotham’s Golden Life Bank then you’re money is sadly gone, and coming up in the next two minutes we’ll tell you ways you can prevent you from losing your life’s savings! Now onto the weather-” 

HONK HONK HOOOONK 

I got out of my head for a minute to realize I was being a dickhead and I pressed my foot on the gas a little to hard, forgetting that there was indeed laws to abide while driving on the road. 

Suddenly, I couldn’t breath and I felt my throat closing up. I was suddenly reminded that I have a horrible thing called anxiety. 

Pulling over, I started to cry in my hands as my vision was tunneling. 

The Joker. The Joker. The Joker. 

Most of the time, people had people’s name or even themselves. Sometimes it would be something as simple as Money written on their enemy wrist. 

Mine never changed. It always said The Joker in messy, red lettered handwriting, and I never really liked looking at it cause it looked like blood almost. 

Jack’s side was neat, but messy his handwriting giving me a sense of calming down but as I looked down at J’s all I could notice was that on the other wrist was my enemy. 

Gotham. 

The Joker. 

I was always destined to come back here and when I did, I’d soon face my enemy. And maybe even without my soulmate. 

I grabbed the wheel as the last of my tears streamed down my face. 

“Man up, Lydia. Man the fuck up and grow some dick.” 

And with that I headed to work, pretending that my hand wouldn’t stop shaking unless I tightened them until they were white around the steering wheel. 

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At work it was no better. I was left in a private cubicle and my computer faced away from everyone. So naturally, I looked up The Joker. 

The result only made me want to stab my eyes out and it made me sick cause some of the crime scene pictures came up. 

I decided that, that’s what my next article would be on. 

The Joker. 

It was crazy, but I didn’t care. I wouldn’t reveal he was my enemy, but what I would reveal is that I wanna know who he is and how he got the way he was. I wanted to go in deep and maybe it would break The Joker if everyone knew the truth. 

It was like, I wasn’t thinking, and truth was is I wasn’t. 

Making a start of an article on The Joker was the start of a war between him and me, but I didn’t care as I angrily and carelessly typed away, forgetting there is such a thing as editing your words and making them sound better, instead of angry or even threatening. 

“Who is The Joker? A mystery man with a Glasgow smile? A criminal who just showed up in Gotham out of nowhere? No, no I think he’s someone and I intend to find out. I, Lydia Napier, will start a project on finding out who exactly The Joker is. Finding out who this villain, this insane criminal will be my mission from now on beside other works...” 

I wasn’t going insane or going to obsess over him, but I was going to find out why he’s my enemy and who the hell he is underneath the mask of disgusting greasepaint. 

I stopped writing five minutes before clock out time and switched to the other tab, staring at his very dark brown eyes that showed no emotion what so ever. 

It almost made me sick. But it didn’t. 

I printed out the piece of work on The Joker and decided to just leave it on Mr. Furn’s desk. 

I didn’t feel like getting shot down by my idea just yet. 

[briannaprisca-blog]

Young God Chapter Two

Oh, how I hated Gotham City. 

I hated it with a passion and I can never pinpoint why. 

Maybe it’s because my parents died there or my relationship with my twin will forever be twisted because when I was 16, I decided running from everything would cure it all. 

I wondered what it would be like now. 

Is it better? Is it worse? Is it just the same old Gotham? 

The answer is all of the above. 

Gotham is always changing and the newspaper I was scanning over in the back of the cab on the way to Wayne Manor proved just that. 

“So, you gotta name?” 

The man who picked me up from the airport stayed hunched over and kept looking at me through the mirror with beady eyes. 

I smiled politely but on the inside I really wanted to bite this guy’s head straight off. 

“Yep.” 

“So, what is it? You must be important to be directly invited to Wayne Manor by Bruce Wayne himself?” He said it in a way that sounded like he was awestruck but the tone and his facial expression led me to believe he was mocking Bruce for his wealth and playboy status. 

I snorted and decided to humor the man. 

“Lydia.” I glanced at my left wrist. “Lydia Napier.” 

He scowled and I could tell her never heard of me. And no one would know Lydia Napier. And no one would want to talk about Lydia Wayne, so why not become a new somebody for a while. 

“So, uh what’s your business with Mr. Bruce Wayne?” 

Do you ever stop saying “So”? 

“He’s an old family friend. I missed him back where I live, so I decided to pay him a visit.” 

I was getting annoyed and my blood pressure was going up.

I saw the driver open his mouth once more, most likely going to say a sentence starting with “So”, but he shut up when we started pulling in the road leading straight to my childhood home. 

I was completely find setting foot in Gotham, but as soon as I saw the familiar mansion in the distance, I could feel my eyes filling with silent tears. 

The man hit the break hard, sending me forward, before he stared at me with his beady, asshole looking eyes. 

“So, you wan-”

“Fuck off.” I quickly said, while grabbing my suitcase, and running up the path to the manor. I could just feel him seething behind me and the squealing car sounding as well behind me only confirmed my thoughts. 

I laughed as I jogged up to the door and suddenly I was 16 again and I could feel the child in me show as the fear of seeing Bruce again reached into my heart and pulled at me. 

Before I could even think of lifting my hand to knock on the door, it opened up fast and wide to reveal Bruce Wayne. 

“Lydia Shasta Wayne, haven’t seen you in quite sometime.” He was smiling and he looked all grown up. 

I was all grown up. 

“Hey.” was all I could say before I was engulfed in the biggest hug I’ve received in a long time.

And before I could help it, my body was shaking, and the tears started falling onto Bruce’s very expensive black suit. 

I almost felt bad. 

I pulled back and smiled at him, just looking at him. 

His hair was like mine, but almost a little lighter. His eyes were almost black, too. Mine were a deep bright blue. His skin was tan. Mine was pale. 

We were both different, but we were family. We were twins and thoughts of our relationship being messed up went out of my mind as quickly as they entered. 

“So, you still have my bedroom right?” 

And at that Bruce threw his head back mockingly and laughed at me as we walked inside. 

I wanted to cry as I looked at everything that stayed the same and everything that has changed since the years I’ve been gone. 

“You were always one for jokes Lydia, but if you wanna see for yourself. Go take a look.” 

I looked behind me at him with surprised eyes and quickly ran up the staircase to my old bedroom. Letting my feet carry me, I lead myself to the bright lilac room. I wanted to cry, again. I could hear Bruce carrying my suitcase up the stairs and while picking my old fluffy, white teddy bear and setting it back on the purple comforter I heard a beautiful, British accent. 

“Well, Madame Shasta, I can say your parents would be very happy to find all their children under one roof again.” 

I gasped, spinning around to see a smiling Alfred with my suitcase. 

“Alfred!” and I ran forward to hug him and without having to see his face, I knew it was turning from a smile to chuckle, and after shoving my face under his chin I could feel his chest rumble under my ear. 

“I’m happy you’re finally home with us Shasta.” Finally, pulling back and smiling at me. I stared at him as he did me and studied just how much he aged. I smirked mischievously. 

“Well, you’ve aged like a fine wine haven’t you!” 

And after pretending to look offended, he led me back downstairs saying there’s lunch on the table, and that unpacking can wait. 

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“I know you probably don’t want to talk about it Lydia but-” Bruce stared shortly after Alfred had collected our trays of a gorgeous lunch, that I hadn’t had in so long that I wanted to die. I sighed, biting my lip as I watched my younger twin look almost unhappy 

I would be to if what it took for my sister to come to Gotham was trouble in paradise. 

“Bruce, do you remember when I ran away?” 

He stopped and seemed almost taken back, but he rolled his eyes at me nonetheless, “Of course I do Shasta, sometimes that’s all I’ll think about.”

“When I was 16 and stupid, I ran off with that idiot of a friend Michael Perino-”

“Perino!” 

“-Yes, Perino, and we were just kids. We didn’t know what we were doing and what we were gonna do when we got there. Let’s just say to stay alive Michael did a lot of things I didn’t know about until it was too late and while I played housewife in our horrible one bedroom apartment in Ruelle, he was being a worse criminal than some of Gotham’s. You already know I almost got arrested, and I said it was a DUI just so you wouldn’t worry too much, but Michael wouldn’t leave me alone. So, I put a restraining order on him and to be contacted if he ever got out for all the things he did. This morning, I got the call that he was released and when they asked him where he’d go, he said to find me.” 

I didn’t look up the whole time and I didn’t until a tear I didn’t know I was holding fell onto my hand. Looking up with sad eyes I could see Bruce sitting hunched over with his lips between his fingers, pursing hard, and looking very pissed off. He looked at me and immediately everything that told me he was going to yell at me faded away into pity and his eyes softened. 

Instead of continuing the conversation like I thought he would, he looked at my chest, and smiled slightly. 

“So how’s J?”, he was smirking now and he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. 

I smiled and pretended to be annoyed. 

“Woooooow, nooo Bruce.”

“Oh, come on! Just tell me, what do you think he’ll look like, be like, and he better treat y-”

“Bruce Thomas Wayne stop!” 

We were laughing and then it got quiet as I started to think, lifting my glass, tilting it back in forth watching my undrinked orange juice slosh back and forth. 

“I think he’ll have nice eyes.” I say quietly, causing Bruce to snap his head up to me. 

“Nice eyes, nice smile. I hope brown eyes. The kind that always looks like melted chocolate, then the sunlight it’s their eyes, and they look orange almost.  That or the kind of brown eyes that stay so dark until they look at you and you can see so much emotion in them that it doesn’t matter that their eyes are almost black.”

I knew I sounded like a high school girl and my theory was only proven right when Bruce laughed at me, joking about how love struck I was, then he left me in my thoughts and orange juice. 

Suddenly I frowned. 

Bruce will never have a soulmate. 

He would never have one, he was born with no soulmate name. It was even worse that his enemy was someone he’d never defeat.

Cause on his wrist, written in beautiful cursive letters, in his own handwriting was something that would no doubt destroy him in time. 

Bruce Wayne 

[briannaprisca-blog]

Young God Chapter One

(Heath Ledger Joker x OC) (Will not follow the Dark Knight movie at all) 

Eh EH EH EH EH EH 

My alarm blared into my ears as I tried opening my crusted over eyes. 

I never woke up with a beautiful head of hair or eyes that were a brilliant blue.

It was never like the movies and after smacking my alarm as hard as I could, I glanced at the mirror beside my bed to see that yep, I was right. 

The sun was barely awake, but you could see it waking up, trying to beam through the buildings and my curtains annoyingly enough. 

“Okay, jog with Angela, come back to write that piece on Zero Waste for work, get coffee, and shit...”, talking to myself as I walked in the old Nirvana T-Shirt and black underwear hoping I could somehow forget how cold it was every morning, especially since installing hardwood floors. 

I patted my horribly pale and cold feet down the hallway and into my very blue bathroom. 

I grimaced whenever I looked up at myself, deciding it would be a shame if you met your soulmate today looking like a damn hobo. 

My black hair that was usually straight and touching my waist, was in a frazzled curly mess that seemed to stick up everywhere. 

I don’t want to straighten my hair. And I don’t wanna go jogging this morning.

It was something I always said to myself, while I turned the faucet on, and started brushing my teeth 

I’ll shove it up in a bun. Just this morning. 

Flipping my hair over, I tied it in a messier mess, and laughed in pain as I hit my head on the sink 

“Real nice Lydia, Really fucking nice, you donut.” 

And after putting the 5-HTP vitamins back in the medicine cabinet, I caught my eye on my wrist. 

Jack Napier  was written in a weird cursive pattern that I’ve never seen anyone use.

My lips curled up in a mile thinking about him. 

“Love you, J.” I whispered into my wrist as if he could feel it and kissed the beautiful lettering, like I always did. 

--------------------------------------------------

“Don’t you ever think about dating?”, Angela asked me. She’d been doing that a lot lately, mostly because she thought it was concerning I’d talk to my wrist sometimes as if he’d actually hear me. 

“Nope.”, popping the ‘P’ and pretending I wasn’t almost out of breath after we just went up a big hill while sprinting and we haven’t stopped jogging after that. 

I looked over as Angela’s blonde hair whipped her in the face and squinted when the sun burned my fucking corneas. She was scrunching her face up and I couldn’t tell if she was annoyed with me or the fact that for the first time in weeks, the sun was brightly fucking with us today. 

She stopped suddenly, making me stumble as I stopped my shaking feet. 

“Do you- lord. Do you ever think maybe you’ll never find your soulmate?” She asked, attempting to catch her breath. 

I leaned over, wiping the sweat off my forehead, thinking for a moment. Avoiding eye contact with the sun, I looked up at her. 

“Sometimes. Sometimes I think I’ll never find him and I’ll die alone.”

“But...there’s other people who won’t have soulmates.”

“Yeah, I know. But I love him. I’m in love with him and I wouldn’t think of anyone else to be with.” 

Angela’s face stayed scrunched, but after a moment she stood up straight, and smiled at be jokingly. 

“Can you tell me his name then?” 

“Nope”

“Oh, come on you looooove him, show him off!”

“I’ve never told anyone his name and I never will!” 

_________________________________________

The sun stayed shining for a minimum of two hours before the clouds of Seattle claimed their rightful spot again. 

Typing the last few sentences on my laptop for work, I decided it would be best if I just got some rest before I passed out again. 

I closed the grey laptop and crawled into bed. 

Folding my arms into an ‘X’ across my chest, I kissed my left wrist once, before drifting off to sleep. 

“Goodnight Jack.” 

----------------------------------------------------

Rinnnnng Ringgggg Ringgnggggg Rinnnnnnng

Groggily opening my eyes, I looked into my usual dark room to see that my phone was lighting up on the desk on my nightstand. 

“What the fuck?”

I sat up quickly realizing it’s not close to 4 A.M. after seeing the angry numbers in red on my alarm clock. 

Picking up the phone hastily and clumsily almost ignoring the call, I looked to see it was Ruelle City Police Department. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Ruelle was a town in California, and I haven’t been there in forever. 

“Hello?”

After a few seconds of silence, I heard a deep, male voice come through.  “Hello, is this Lydia Wayne?” 

Sitting up on the side of the bed and shivering to the cold floor, I answered. “Yes, this is she?” 

“Ms. Wayne, 7 years ago you filed a restraining order against a Michael Perino, correct?” 

I felt dizzy, but I stood up. The wind knocked out of me and I could see my face in the mirror beside my bed mirror only horror and a pale washed out look. 

“Yes. Yes, I did. Why are you asking?” 

“Well, you see Ms. Wayne, Mr. Perino was released yesterday, and on his list of people to contact that he’s been released is your name at the top. We would also like to tell you that he did threaten and stress that he was going to see you, as we always ask where are released prisoners are off to, but we didn’t think anything of it. But this morning, his card was seen to have activity buying a bus ticket to Seattle, and we felt the need to tell you for common protocol. Now, you can let us call Seattle po-” 

I dropped the phone from my grasp and felt my breathing become increasingly shallow. 

no no no no no no no

“This isn’t happening, Lydia. No. No” 

I fell to the cold floor and curled up in a ball of unshed tears. 

So many thoughts were bouncing in my mind and I couldn’t think straight. 

Nausea lifted itself into my throat and I knew I’d get sick if I didn’t calm down. 

“Okay, come on. Come on get it together!” I whispered to myself and slapped my cheek. 

I got up, grabbing my phone, and running to the closet for my suitcase I never use. 

Grabbing clothes, my toothbrush, brush, and anything I could fit in the compact sized suitcase was hard, but I made due. I was freaking out and I could feel my heart racing like it’s never done before. 

Last but not least I grabbed a shiny, silver necklace that laid on the top of my mirror for safe keeping. 

It was custom-made and would changed from silver to light purple in the light. It has a single ‘J’ on it. 

Grabbing the suitcase, kissing my left wrist, and locking the door, I ran out of my apartment faster than I ever have before. 

And while I hailed a cab to the airport, I dialed a number I rarely ever used.

It was picked up on the second ring. 

“Hello?” The voice came through. 

“Bruce, I’m in trouble. I need a place to stay in Gotham for a while an-”

“Yeah, Shasta, anything for you. Just call me when you arrive and if you need me to pay for anything, please ask.” 

“Thank you, Brucey.” 

“Always, Sis.” 

And just like that, the conversation was over. 

[briannaprisca-blog]

Young God (OCxLedger!Joker)

Lydia Shasta Wayne has always hated living with a bunch of money weighing on her back and so, at 16 she decided to run away from the Wayne name with a friend who at the time was loyal and the most trusted person in her life...

10 years later, at 26, she’s living her life as normal as she can in Seattle, far from where people will know her as Wayne Enterprises’ second heir next to her lovely twin brother Bruce Wayne. 

She usually gets up around 4 A.M. as always, taking a jog with her neighbor, then doing some writing from home for work. 

But she was awoken an hour early then usual when her phone wouldn’t stop ringing.

It was the police and they needed to tell her that the ex-friend from all those years ago got out of prison yesterday...and they believe he’s coming for her. 

So with no choice, she finally comes to the conclusion she has to see her younger twin in Gotham to live with him until she can figure out if her old friend is really after her. 

But besides a lunatic coming after her, she has more to worry about because in her world you’re born with your greatest enemy’s name on the right of your wrist and your soulmate’s name on your left wrist. You and your soulmate are the only one’s allowed to see their name on you and your enemy can only see their name on you. 

For as long as Lydia can remember, Jack Napier will be the love of her life. And “Joker” will be her enemy. 

Let the games begin...

[briannaprisca-blog]

Imagines & Series

This is a list of what I’ll do imagines on (I will take requests) and do series on. Most of them will be stuff I will randomly think about, but if anyone likes my writing style, and wants me to write an imagine or series for them, then just message me! 

I won’t do an imagine if it seems out of character, but I might just tweak to make it like the character!

The Joker (Leto, Ledger, Jerome Valeksa) 

Harry Potter characters

 Twilight

 The Gallagher Girl series (Zach and Cammie, Joe, etc.) 

 The Originals

 Marvel

 DC

 Supernatural 

Criminal Minds

Ghost Adventures

 Star Wars

The Walking Dead  

Riverdale

American Horror Story 

The 100

Heathers (J.D.)

The Breakfast Club 

Merlin 

Miss Peregrine’s Home For Peculiar Children

Pride & Prejudice (& Zombies)

Hemlock Grove 

Grey’s Anatomy 

Gotham

Avengers’

Bucky Barnes 

Arrow

The Flash (Ezra & Grant’s) 

Celebrities From ANY of these

Black Panther 

Guardians of The Galaxy 

Z Nation

Some of the things I’m a fan of and have knowledge on will not be listed above, but I will happily do it if you just happen to ask for it! Don’t be afraid because I probably will know what you’re talking about!

Thank you! 

[briannaprisca-blog]

I’ll Be Good - Chapter Two

Author’s note: I would like to state that this does NOT in anyway follow the Harry Potter series and things will be adjusted to fit the story, so if it seems like things are wrong, they probably are! But for the sake of my series, they’ll be right. But thank you to anyone who enjoys my series I’ll be doing. 

-----------------------------------------

“9 3/4 Platform. Come on Letha, you dumbass just find it, and-” I was cut off, hitting into someone like an idiot. 

“Ouch, excuse you!”, a woman’s voice hastily said, obviously late for something, because she ran off with her ridiculous purple, feathered hat, as it almost fell off her pampered head. I didn’t bother saying sorry, she was already lost in the crowd by the time I looked back at her, while grabbing my bag I had dropped. Which only caused my books that were supposed to keep me company on the train to topple out onto the ground.

Rolling my eyes, I shoved the books I had into my bag. Ignoring the cold of the train station and ignoring the rudeness of the people surrounding me.

“Ms. Evans?” a light, but low voice said above me. Pausing on standing up as my knees decided to not work in that moment, I looked up sheepishly, not expecting Hogwarts to send out someone for me. 

It was a man with red hair, kind looking brown eyes, and an almost silly looking mustache. Looking more closely, I could see he has a few scars on his face. 

“Yes, unfortunately I am Ms. Evans, but you may call me Letha. And you are?” 

My black, curly hair was unruly today, so it naturally fell in my face at that exact moment. 

He stared at me oddly, but his eyes widened, and he held out his hand quickly. 

“I’m Professor Lupin, I teach ‘Defense Against The Dark Arts’ at Hogwarts. Dumbledore asked for me to accompany you from the train to Hogwarts so you wouldn’t be as lonely...” He trailed off it seemed with a distant look in his eyes, but he was staring at my face like he was searching for something. 

Opening my mouth to say something, I was caught off by a train’s shrill whistle next to me, making me jump. 

“Ah yes, the 9 3/4′s platform is this way. Follow me.” 

He didn’t grab my hand, probably thinking it would be inappropriate, which it would, but he grabbed my wrist instead. It caused me to get nervous immediately and I was starting to dread this trip all more than I already did. 

I had covered up my mark with a long sleeve navy blue sweater, but I still hated knowing it was there, right where easily anyone could see it if my sleeves brushed up even the slightest. 

I was not ready for this, but I knew if I wanted to forgot my old life that I had to accept my reality. 

-----------------------------------------

I’m short. I’m somewhat skinny. My hair is more wavy than curly. It’s black and goes down to my bottom. My eyes are an icy, deep blue. My face is heart shaped. My skin is really pale. And if you look closely, you can see a scar on my chin from when I tripped at the age of four. 

These are facts. But staring in the dirty mirror on the train heading to what you’d think would be my death, all I could think about were the facts that scared me.

My soulmate is Tom Riddle. He’s Voldemort. You have a dead mother. You have a father that is alive. He doesn’t even know you exist. 

My skin was really pale today, deadly. The scar on my chin stood out because of it now. My hair was messy now from my hands constantly touching it within the last hour. I was now really skinny, as for the past month, I wasn’t eating like I should. 

And then there was something you hadn’t thought about until a few moments ago that had caused you to practically run to the bathroom. 

You’re Letha Evans. Daughter of The Lily Potter. You have a half-brother. His name is Harry Potter. He doesn’t know you exist. And he’ll hate you. 

I wasn’t crying as I had no tears left to cry. I wasn’t going to cry over something I’ve known since my orphanage decided a five year old should know that they were not wanted or needed, cause my mother messed up, and had made a mistake that she only named then sent away without a second thought.

So I decided that Harry Potter would not know I was his sister. I decided my father would not know I was his daughter. I decided that I wouldn’t make friends at Hogwarts. I decided to make sure no one knew who I really was. I decided to make sure that no one knew about my soulmate.

[briannaprisca-blog]

I’ll Be Good - Chapter One

Tom Marvolo Riddle 

It was a name I knew well. It was also a name almost all wizards feared, if they knew who it really was behind the name. 

Voldemort. Fucking Voldemort. 

A month ago I had finally come to terms that on my 16th birthday, I would wake up with my soulmate’s name plastered on my body like an unwanted, forbidden tattoo. 

What I didn’t know is that it would be just that. 

A week ago, I cried myself to sleep on the bathroom floor, and ignored my roommates pounding on the door that morning...and that afternoon...and then Mrs. Blu unlocked the strong charm I had put up, to find me with a red blotchy face, and tears still streaming down my cheeks. She didn’t help me up after she glanced at my mark.

I had tried to cut it off, but it only came back minutes later. 

Tom Marvolo Riddle

It was beautifully put right on my wrist. An unusual place, as soul tattoos were usually where no one can see them. They’re hidden and unless you wanted to walk around half-naked, there’d be no way of knowing someone else’s soulmate. 

Tom Marvolo Riddle

The font was his handwriting, I knew, which just made this whole thing worse. 

3 days after that, everyone in Ilvermorny knew about it. My roommates wouldn’t come close to me, I ate alone, and sometimes I couldn’t eat. 

Everyone feared that Voldemort would come hunting for me and it didn’t take long before even professors started to ignore me, not answering questions, and my work would go ungraded. 

A day ago, An owl landed next to me while I was laying outside on the grass, attempting to forget everything. 

It carried a sealed letter.

Hogwarts. 

I’ve seen what they looked like. The acceptance letters, I mean. And it was an acceptance letter, but it was personally addressed in many ways with an extra parchment of paper from a Headmaster Dumbledore. 

Dear Ms. Letha Evans, 

My name as you may have guessed is Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. I know you are currently in the magical school of Ilvermorny, but I would like to accept you as a transfer student. 

This almost never happens here at Hogwarts, but I know who you are. It is my upmost pleasure to say to you that after years of trying to find you, I have located you. 

I knew your mother, as well as your father. 

You must know that although this is a heartbreaking topic of discussion that you will find a home here at Hogwarts. 

I wish you all the best, nonetheless, and that you will be traveling here soon.  

Please respond when you feel is best for you and all will be arranged.

Dumbledore 

The man seemed nice enough and even now, sitting on my bed, trying to form many responses on paper, I just couldn’t get anything out. 

Dumbledore invited me to be a transfer student at Hogwarts. 

Dumbledore knew about my parents. 

Dumbledore didn’t know that I already knew about my parents. 

And Dumbledore didn’t know that Voldemort’s birth name was written on my wrist in his stupid, beautiful handwriting. 

Fighting everything in my body, I wrote what I thought he’d want to hear. 

Dear Headmaster Dumbledore of Hogwarts, 

I’ve received your letter a day ago and didn’t know how to respond until now. 

Truthfully, things here at Ilvermorny have not been the best lately. 

I would love to be transferred to Hogwarts. 

But I must confess that I know about my mother. And I know my father’s name. 

My mother was a woman who did not want me or she just couldn’t keep me, so the story goes. She was with another man at the time and did not want anyone to know of her mistakes. 

Not even my own father knows about me, and if he still doesn’t know, then I’d like to keep it that way. 

Sincerely, 

L.E. 

I wrapped a ribbon around the piece of paper after attempting to roll it 3 times, and I tied it to the owl’s leg, who had been patiently waiting at my window overnight and this morning. 

Petting it while it cooed at me, I sent it on it’s way.