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simpingwriter · 9 months

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Jerome Valeska

Faith Wayne/Phoenix

'All you need is

a bit of Faith'

pt.9

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Phoenix takes Jerome for a ride and soon after beats in some faces, to be able to give the pretty ginger his second lesson of the day.

And does the boy slowly start to find his voice again thanks to Phoenix's lead?

Enjoy! :)

Word Count: approx. 3.600 Words

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You left through the front door of the Apartment with Jerome, like a decent human being for once and not through the window again. Once out of the apartment building, you enter the most recent, possible addresses into your watch, activating the GPS of it that's connected to your personal "Batcycle". Though Dick is right with his opinion, that it's less a BATcycle than a Phoenixcycle. But the latter sounds incredibly stupid, so you stick with your dad's version for it until you're grazed with the right name during a warm shower.

Wordlessly, you start to cross the street, Jerome following close behind, tagging along with blind trust. Of course you pulled out a different pair of your shorts beforehand, still having been unable to find the strength to NOT stare straight downwards when he isn't looking. And if even you lost this battle, how would other women or certain men without your training of self-control react??

Jerome is just about to ask you where you're taking him, until with the press of a button on the screen of the same watch, you uncover the hiding spots of your previously cloaked vehicle.

"Wait…we're taking the Batcycle?!" Not THE batcycle, one of them, but yes. That's why you made him take the helmet, because while you gave two rat's nasty shitholes about helmets, you didn't want him to hurt himself in case his grip grows weak or you accidentally forget he's on as well and take a corner too sharp. Has all happened before and with every time something along the kind happened, you loved helmets more and more for existing.

You and Damian still have a secret that you keep from your dad, preferably taking it to each of your graves, about how you two went on Patrol together and he practically begged you on his knees – yes, you're still talking about Damian, the Gremlin you call your half-brother – to take him for a ride during it, since he of course wasn't allowed to drive himself yet, having been 12 years only at that point of the event.

And since he weighs basically nothing while on the bike, you…well…you kinda forgot he is on there and while you took a corner so tight it turned into you drifting, you only heard him shout your name a few meters already behind you.

Damian fell off your motorcycle that night, thankfully besides a few scratches nothing happened, but damn, you BOTH almost shat your costumes that patrol, yes even Damian, the kid that argues that he fears nothing. He fears your driving style since then.

"Yes we are, that's the helmet for. Put it on and hurry up. The longer we wait, the more time he has to find out that nothing happens to him…well, law-wise. A broken rib or two? Yeah, he won't escape THAT." He is quick to nod and follow your instructions, letting you get on first, watching with constant interest as you sit down on your cape. If you didn't, chances were high he gets smacked by it…and falls off. And still, you wanted to avoid that.

Once you give him the okay, he carefully sits behind you, but you help out a bit when he hesitates about holding onto you. "I don't bite…too hard...i mean, unless you want me to leave a mark." You tease, looking over your shoulder with a toothy, mischievous grin after you made sure that he held on tightly. "Do NOT ease your grip, if anything, hold on even tighter if you're worried. And tell me when I'm going too fast for you." While you couldn't see it, because of the helmet, the shaking of his hands and his nod told you enough of his current mood: two inches away from shitting enough bricks to remodel Wayne Manor. But you didn't know if it was because of the ride alone, since the Batcycle isn't exactly slow – Your Dad's, yours and those of your siblings all got equal Speed – or maybe even from the close proximity right now?

He did after all even flinch from you just touching his thigh as Faith back in Jim's Car yesterday. Was it that far off to think that he simply isn't used to getting touched, or at least, getting touched without it leaving a bruise or a cut afterwards? What a depressing thought and possibility...but you could understand it. Been like that when you were still young and had only recently been taking in by your Father and Alfred as well, flinching and dodging at every moment you felt their hands coming even close to you. It took a whole year for you to lose all your physical restraint, to actively hug Dad or Alfred, and respectively your adoptive brothers as well.

"Relax, everything is going to be fine." But no matter how serious and honest your words were meant, they wouldn't just erase all the former pain he went through like that, and you knew that, it didn't erase all of yours back then either. You wished they had, that you would've let dad in earlier. Because now that you knew of the dangers of not only his but also now your...life...you were made aware of how quickly you could lose the people you cared for the most.

You still remembered the day the Joker killed Jason, like it was yesterday, the pain of hearing the news from Dad...

Following the GPS through the streets, you kept your eyes out for anything of similar suspicion in different alleyways and so on. After all you're still on Patrol either way, though Day-Patrols usually were much much calmer than the more common night ones. Since Gotham's Criminal Underworld Slime more often crawled out of their holes at night, so it wasn't much use to do Patrols during daylight. With more and more time spent on the bike, you felt Jerome slightly relax into it. And with that, you didn't mean the ride itself, no, that clearly still had him on the edge.

You meant the close body contact. He seemed much more alright with actively holding onto you now, pressing himself into your smaller back, his arms wrapped around your waist, presumably to not have to witness the actual levels of speed your bodies currently traveled at. Good news for him and "his" underwear – thank the gods for you owning some boxershorts for comfort's sake – then that you reached the first address, and from the noise coming from one of the warehouses, it seems like you had hit the right spot on the first try. Unusual but you wouldn't turn your nose at that. "You good?" You turn to ask him once you get off the motorcycle, concealing it once more like earlier. Despite the jacket you gave him, he shook. So he couldn't push onto the fact that he was cold.

He was probably scared shitless from the whole ride, so you were quick to pull the helmet off of his head with some gentleness that was rare for Phoenix, placing it into the nearest bush for departure later before coming back to the ginger, watching him try to tame his now wild ginger locks, "You drive like a maniac..." Well, duh…you got places to be, you don't have the time to stop at red lights or remember traffic rules, "...Would you rather drive then?" That made him slightly frown at you, crossing his arms, "Me and which driver's license?" Which made you laugh almost too loud for the current situationand place you're in, throwing your head back before you calmed yourself down again, "Good…good fucking joke. You think I got an official license?? Never made one...yet, but the GCPD knows that I can drive and that it's the last thing on my list of intentions to hurt innocent people while driving." Plus, while you ignored some basic rules for driving regularly, like driving on the wrong side and so on…you knew them, you knew them very well.

You drove like a normal person when in Gotham as your normal self too, you just don't get pulled aside because the Police knows you – still meaning Faith in that case – that you're basically the left hand of Gordon. And someone who works for the Commissioner has to have a license, right?! Nah. You're lucky that they are that naive, and at the same time, it worries you about the general intelligence the officers have…

"You don't have one?" "Learned how to drive from my dad, Red Hood and Batman." One of the "three" was a horrible teacher for driving. No, it's not Batman.

Usually it was Alfred who taught every Robin how to handle the vehicles you get to use during Patrols, but when it was your turn, Alfred had just broken his arm due to a soapy mistake from Jason trying to clean up in the kitchen. So of course, as punishment – which indirectly ended up being one for you as well, as one might deduct from your driving skill/style – it became Jason's stand-in job to teach you the basics. Worst decision…well one of them…your dad ever made.

The absolute worst was fucking your hellspawn of a mother nearly 19 years ago, creating you in the process, but that's a different kind of subject for a different kind of day. Definitely not fitting for today.

"I'm guessing your connections to the GCPD kept you on the street for that long?" Jerome went on to ask as you two crossed the street to get to the warehouses lined up at the riverside, "Hit the nail on the head, yeah." Then, you signal him to keep quiet from now on, to stay back further until you gave him the sign that he could come in. You didn't need him to get hurt because you dragged him into gunfire and overly aggressive Gang Members. To that came that you needed all your focus on defending yourself already, having to split your attention on keeping him fucking alive would put you into danger as well.

Once you have managed to stash the boy away behind some crates outside the warehouse, you pull out your grapple gun from the tool belt, aiming at the roof's edge. "See you in a bit, pretty boy." Of course you had to drop that nickname again, who would you be if you didn't tease him every five minutes to watch the blood shoot back up into his face and his dark green eyes widen with shock.

Though this time you didn't get much time to admire the effect your words had on him, already getting pulled up to the roof when you finished speaking to him, using your hands to pull yourself up the edge at the end before slowly making your way over to one of the few roof access hatches. You had so many encounters in so many building types and places, that you knew some of the ways they were built better than you knew what kind of clothes you owned. The latter was getting out of control anyways, you need to clean up again soon-

Shaking your head, you get back to the actual problem at hand, dropping down through the hatch onto one of the horizontal metal beams holding the warehouse together and stable during storms. From up here, you had the perfect view downwards to the culprits of all that noise, two separate groups in the middle of a deal.

And with them? The suspect, visibly anxious from his body language. He still thought that he was in danger after the day you caught him at the crime scene. Why the hell did he return anyways if it was a crime related to Penguin and not a personal one? Usually these types of murders don't result in the killer returning, but instead in reporting his actions to whomever he worked for, for protection in case of repercussions. Repercussions in the form of a vigilante's fist, foot or weapon.

…

What if it wasn't a Penguin-related murder but actually personal?

Just because he worked for that short, stumbling umbrella obsesses prick, doesn't mean every crooked thing he does is for the Penguin, as Cobblepot had a thing for taking henchmen that already weren't "innocent little boys" to begin with. Usually they had their history with law enforcement before, or even the Vigilantes if they and their bones were unfortunate…

The deal itself was common, but currently doing its rounds at the many riverside warehouses again more than elsewhere: Gun Trades, of course. Let's hope only the ones they're holding are loaded. Then again, whoever the second group is from are from and the Penguin are not exactly friends of their henchmen using the guns, "the precious ware", in trade without explicit Permission from either one of the "Bosses". The day you take fucking Oswald Cobblepot serious is the day your life takes a healthy turn, you'll start a family and all. Fuck, as of you get to settle down, ever. Especially with the conscious knowledge keeping you awake that these criminals will have field day with the day you "retire", just like with anyone else that was part of your crime-fighting family.

But that will never happen, so no kids pulling at your pant legs, constantly endangered by your second life at night. At least something you can be certain of is that Cobblepot will always stay a goddamn joke in your eyes. One easily killed Joke, but your Dad of course doesn't let you, because it's against the rules he taught you all, even Jason. While he is right, and you kept to that rule...mostly, it was also such a goddamn…Bore.

Spying out the deal from above, you pinned down the actual number of threats, and calculated how many would potentially run away. The suspect would belong to that group, from what you watched, as he was obviously still very jumpy as you previously deducted. But you couldn't have that, he was the main target in all of this, you needed him here, you needed him conscious.

So a smoke bomb it was.

As soon as it hits the ground, dispersing the light powder inside all around its usual area, you put on your mouth guard against it. "Well hello there, boys! So sorry I had to blow up your little get-together…by the way, you still know each other from school by any chance?!" Was your witty remark, having jumped down to take out the first two with your feet, their short lived grunts your good to go before you continue with the others.

From the corner of your eyes, you saw the main target of yours trying to slip away by using the chaos that now broke out, which was quickly hindered by a quick hip-aimed fire of your gun. Non lethal rubber bullets, just like Jason, of course. But they were still very much capable of fracturing bones and internal bleeding if used right or…"wrong".

The howl coming from the target indicated a fracture though, or at least, he wouldn't be able to run anymore when you checked up on him and he still laid in the same spot, whimpering to himself while holding his hit leg.

Reholstering the gun, you turned back to his friends, immediately getting to dodge their blind attempts at swinging their fists into you or with their makeshift weapons of…oh yeah…yeah…crowbars. Everyone's not favorite.

Swiftly you kick some of them out of their hands, the metal clanking across the warehouse floor. Can't they just give up for once? You're not here for them anyways!

Not two minutes later, the smoke bomb finally settled again, you had incapacitated every one of them, using some zip ties for now to hold them here till you had informed the GCPD. That left only one.

"...seems like you're the last one for me to deal with, huh?" You call out with a lazy grin, taking your time walking over to him as you re-pocket the flare you didn't need, knowing there was nowhere to run for him. "Jerome! You can come in now!!" Was the next thing you shout, already dragging the complaining man behind you to one of the other metal beams that support the weight of the roof.

Turns out, he was already watching anyway, coming out from behind the massive warehouse door, mouth hanging wide open as he stared at the aftermath of your fiery encounter, the smellof singed clothes and plastic hanging in the air. "Holy shit…that was so fucking badass!" He exclaims, unfreezing from his shock, covering ground while stepping unfazed over the unconscious bodies of the criminals. "Didn't I tell you to stay behind the crates?" "Well…yeah.. but-" "You got too curious?" He nods sheepishly, expecting you to stay angry at him, just like his mother would have probably. But why should you, it wasn't too dangerous, they didn't have any guns besides the ones in the crates. If anything: he finally seems to find his own free will in himself again, something that was stripped away forcefully from him when he grew up. Curiosity is important to an extent, especially for self growth. But usually that's a lesson for kids...not an almost 19 year old boy.

"It's fine, come here and help me, we need to tie him against this beam…" you order, motioning him over with your head and holding out another zip tie to him. "W-what do you fucking want from me?!" The man asks with a stutter in his voice, clearly very aware of how fucked he was the same moment he knew it was Phoenix who blew up whatever weapons deal was about to happen here. "Eh…just some answers to some questions. In exchange…hmm…" you act like you're thinking about it for a moment, until you grin at him, menacingly. Because who are you shitting here, you and Jerome knew exactly what you would press against him.

The sole reason you looked for him, this pain in the ass!

"In exchange, I won't drag you with my bike all the way across the pavement of Gotham to the precinct for the Commissioner himself to deal with you…I know what you did, you're behind the murder at the Asylum two weeks ago." With a tone that erased any chance of him suspecting that you were technically just guessing. But to be fair, it was pretty certain it was him. "W-wh-what?!" Here comes the denia- "How did you find out it was me?!" Or not. Huh.

Then he scoffs, grasping his last bit of confidence it felt like as he looks you directly into your masked white eyes, "You work with Batman, you're nothing but one of his stupid Sidekicks, you can't- AHHH!" Okay, so maybe mild intimidation won't pull here today (plus no one calls you a sidekick), so without much of a warning, you had pulled back your leg quickly. And kicked with full strength into his upper ribs, watching him ring for air in his lungs now, spit dripping from his mouth as he coughs. Soon the tears followed and you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, getting close and personal.

"With the help of a little bird, saw you at the crime scene about…three days ago? They were kind enough to give me your description to…deal…with you." Cracking your knuckles loudly at the end, starting the mild intimidation for now as he was already breathing heavily. Hyperventilating and passed out, he would be of no use to you.

"Listen, you small fry fool, never think that just because me and the others aren't the Bat himself that we can't deal the same terrible cards as him. Now I recommend following my rules by spilling what your tiny little pea brain has stored up there…and I won't indebt you with a mile long hospital bill after I'm done with you." Was your hissed threat, throwing him back against the ground and metal beam, his head bouncing off the latter.

You would be here for quite a while if he was as stubborn as he made himself out to be-

"Fine…fine…i- i-i'll talk!" Booo, what a boring ass show, next channel...

Frowning, you kneel down to his current height, shaking your head, "You guys really know how to ruin one's fun, damn. Well fine then, I will take you for your word…" looking up to Jerome, you stand back up, take a few steps back and cross your arms. "I'll start with an easy one: Was the murder Cobblepot's order? …or was it personal?" Because if it actually turned out to be because of a personal dispute with the victim, you could still bring him in to Gordon.

Sure, you just said you wouldn't. But that was in case it's the first option you gave him with this question…plus that meant you wouldn't drag him behind your batcycle. It was a huge mistake to take everything you specifically said at face value, having taken a liking to be a bit of a deceiver and trickster towards people that had a negative standing with you. Yeah okay, you did that with your Brothers too every once in a while. Just to mess with them though.

Jerome first looked a bit surprised at the second question, since he thought you were certain that it was a job done for the Penguin. But clearly that wasn't the case anymore as you glare at the man.

"...That man was my brother."

Oh dear. Fratricide. Flavorful murder.

Didn't answer your actual question though, so with one boot getting placed on his already hurting ankle, you lean over him against the beam, "But was it for the Penguin, fucking hell!" "NO! That…that bastard fucked my sister!" Wait, wait, wait...what? His sister? But they were brothers. "You mean-" "He was ADOPTED! Now please...my foot!!!" Following his pitiful plea, you take your own foot off of his, still glaring at him, "Fine…"

What could you ask nex-

"Is the Penguin having any other similar deals like this soon?" Was that just…Jerome? Eyebrows pulled up as high as they possibly could be, you half turn towards the ginger, who looked like he tried so hard to seem tough. He did a bit, but he still looked like a partially kicked puppy, standing a bit awkward behind you. But unexpected or not, it drew a smile on your formerly cold, more calculated face. Once you knew that he saw your silent approval of his sudden decision to speak up, you're facing the man again.

"What he asked. Speak, or I fuck up your second ankle and make you walk a mile or two." Maybe ten. Depends on your mood to hurt criminals without killing them. That must've sounded anything but fun to him, you don't even know why, and he shook his head violently, "N-NO ANYTHING BUT THAT! I...rather fry in Blackgate …Penguin...he made some of his higher men plan a heist on Gotham's Main Centre Bank. It's supposed to happen any week next month, but nothing specific has been dated yet…please…p-please, I don't know anymore!" More? He knew of a planned heist, even if not exactly when, but it's going to be enough for the Batcomputer back home. That and hearing out some more of the said higher-ups in Cobblepot's ranks. An easy job for everyone.

"Jerome, call the GCPD, to come pick up the crooks around us." You tell the ginger while kneeling down to take the man off the metal beam, throwing your phone into his fumbling arms. He did so immediately, explaining the situation, and without having to tell him, he let's it sound like he is a civilian that came across these men already out cold. Such a good boy he is. Don't good boys deserve a little treat?

"Wait? Where are you taking me?" "The Precinct." Was the only thing you said for now, re-doing his zipties once getting him onto his one healthy foot, dragging him forward until you reached Jerome. "You thought ahead, didn't tell them you're with me, pretty boy." And before he could reply to that, you pull him down by the old baggy t-shirt of yours he wore now, placing a near feather-light kiss on the corner of his lips, his eyes widening like saucers, before getting back to the main task at hand and walking past him to get back to the Batcycle.

"Are you coming or not?" "...O-of course, Phoenix!" Not just a good boy. A good boy that's pretty and smart.

#jerome valeska x batsis!oc #jerome valeska x oc #jerome valeska x batsis #dc x oc #batfam x oc #batfam x batsis!oc #batfam x batsis #Innocent Jerome Valeska

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simpingwriter · 9 months

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TBF...all of them, Kyra because of unbridled rage and need for vengeance. Faith because she is literally a Vigilante in Gotham for fuck's sake, if she didn't, she'd be doing a bad job all Patrol long. Another, still unrevealed one is just very hot-blooded and would start (just like me) a fist fight for a blue Raspberry ice pop while still becoming putty with her unconventional boyfriend.

New Question:

Because it fits my usual theme of Fanfics alot, Which one of your characters is most likely to kill for their significant other?

OKAY!

WRITEBLRS if you're seeing this, you're legally obligated to reblog with an answer, and then a new question for the next person!

Here's the start:

Which of your OCs is most likely to punch somebody in the face?

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simpingwriter · 9 months

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Wayne Fam Podcast: talking about the stupid shit they pulled as kids.

Faith: "So one time, when I was 8, I farted into a Gatorade Bottle, locked it up and smelled it like six weeks later."

Jason: *has a whole ass vietnam flashback to that day* "..."

Dick: "Was it there?"

Faith: "No doubt, no fucking doubt-"

Tim: *keels over laughing on the couch, fighting for air*

Jason: "...I almost threw up...it was so...vile."

Dick: "The fuck you eat those six weeks ago??"

Faith: "THE SAME AS YOU ALL!"

Jason: "I highly fucking doubt that!"

#batfam x oc #batfam shitpost #batfam shenanigans #jerome valeska x batsis!oc #source: Some Ordinary Podcast Number 6

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simpingwriter · 9 months

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Jerome Valeska

Faith Wayne/Phoenix

'All you need

is a bit of Faith'

Pt.8

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Gonna have to start using Ian GIFs soon because unfortunately Jerome in the actual series doesn't have that many...innocent...scenes. So yes...I know that the future GIFs aren't Jerome but Ian. I know.

Jerome doesn't know how to take care of himself, gets to wear Faith's old clothes and in the meantime Phoenix starts what she does second-best: scheming.

Enjoy! :)

Word Count: approx. 3.400 Words

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You look at the kitchen with a tilt of your head, squinting behind your mask. It didn't look like he ate anything till now, even though he said he was awake for hours now.

"Why didn't you eat anything, aren't you hungry?" He sighs, scratching the back of his head before also looking at the small open kitchen, "I mean, I would've…if Faith had any food here." Fuck, that's right…

You don't have anything in the fridge besides water bottles, for the simple reason that you're barely here, so it would only rot away while you're gone. But…

"Wait, I know what she has though…" what you have, to be correct. Walking past him, your unique cape trailing behind with a nearly enthusiastic bounce in your step – thanks to your newly designed boots that had different soles built in to help you with scaling buildings more quickly now – you targeted the small pantry cupboard above the counter and sink. Opening it, you reveal various cans and opened as well as fresh Cereal Bags, both able to be edible for years if stored in the right conditions, cold and dark.

Unless it's a nut-based Cereal, they get very disgusting once the nuts' oils turn rancid. Thankfully you prefer Fruit Cereals. A regular reason for fights between you and the rest of your siblings, since they rather eat chocolate based Cereals...so much to a protein rich diet. They eat like pigs in the wild.

"Damn, I didn't even look there…I thought that's the cabinet for plates." Yeah, you had a habit of putting shit where it doesn't belong, the plates are in the cabinet that's supposed to be used for food storage, something you also pointed out immediately for the ginger. He was more than thankful for someone at least finally explaining the kitchen to him, which you doubt Jim took his time for yesterday. Somewhere it's understandable though, Jim must've been tired too after a long day at work.

"How come you know all these things about Faith's Apartment?" "She lets me use it as a safe house when she's not here. Oh, as a warning beforehand, I have a second set of keys…so try to refrain from running around bare ass...Or don't." You don't mind, to be fair. You're not going to lie about the elephant in the room to yourself, the boy was very attractive in your eyes. Hit all the right spots for your taste, specifically the unfortunately still very muted freckles.

And Gotham isn't exactly the best place to catch some sun rays to help them get more defined again, the buildings and the smog keep most of the streets in shadows or at least, did not let through enough light to have it affect your skin.

He'd have to learn to travel across the roofs like you and your family for the sun to reach his face. And predicting from his current predisposition for anxiety, or at least it felt like he had one, he probably won't do that anytime soon. Well, you could always test it out while you're taking him along for the training you planned to give him.

"Eat something real quick then, I'll start looking into the description Faith gave me in the meantime. Come join me once you're done…" you pat him on the shoulder, leaving him standing half-frozen to his spot in the kitchen to find the stuff you needed in the office you stashed your equipment for non-physical investigation parts in. Dragging the whiteboard out, you can hear hkm halfway choke on the Cereal he chose to eat. Fruit Loops, nice.

"Where did you get a whole ass whiteboard from?!" "The office??" He probably didn't investigate the apartment that much himself anymore either last night, perhaps just happy to have found the bedroom and to fall down onto the bed in exhaustion for the stress of leaving Arkham behind himself again. "By the way, how is the mattress feeling?" For a moment you swore you saw a thought flicker through those dark greens before he stuttered in his words, "I-I…I slept on the couch, actually." Why would he do that??

"Why? The bedroom is yours while you're here, until Faith found a better place for you, your own apartment." Putting the brake into the small rolls at the bottom of the board, you turn back to the couch, placing down the small box of markers and magnets along with a pack of papers and sticky notes. You doubted that you would end up needing all that much, not for such a simple process. But you could never be too sure.

"I didn't want to make a mess out of it, my nightmares…they make me toss and turn." Yeah, you get that too, even without nightmares, as you're quite the animated sleeper. Meaning, even if it did bother you for some stupid ass reason, high chances you wouldn't even have noticed what he did with the sheets.

"I doubt she cares, she sleeps like that too. And boy does she have a kick in her sleep, almost broke my nose once." No, it was Jason's nose and it was actually after you slipped into his bed from a nightmare. No, it wasn't when you were a kid, but only a few months ago. Yes, you know how mature that sounds, being a vigilante and all but you don't care.

You also don't tell a living soul and Jason will die a second time if it slips out from him, that doesn't matter now though.

"Are you sure?" "Yes, of course I am! Where did you sleep tonight then anyways?"

His gaze went to the green couch you stood at, and then you saw the blankets too, wanting to facepalm at how you, daughter of the greatest Detective alive, didn't see them before. "On this old thing?! It's still from her room at the Manor! That thing is uncomfortable to sleep on as hell!" This was the first time you actually noticed some kind of strength in his "words" and his actions, rolling his eyes as he sent you a look of 'Yeah, no shit. I slept on it, I should know by now.' before going back to eating the cereal. Damn, so he can be sassy if he feels comfortable enough.

And you liked it a lot. You wanted to see more of it, the Jerome under all of this fear and trauma.

With protest from the old springs below it, you throw yourself onto the cushioning of said green couch, throwing the two throw blankets he must've used aside. Couldn't he at least have used a warm blanket, to make you feel less horrible for not having been here yesterday to explain everything? Especially to get him some food into the small fridge, he stills looks quite a bit miserable right now with dry cereal only. So you told him, "I will remind Faith of taking you to buy some clothes and groceries after this is done, so probably tomorrow. Until then, maybe try to find one of her more neutral, baggier t-shirts in the closet, they should fit you."

You continue without having to look up from your papers, knowing he stopped to start standing behind you – due to the more clear and louder crunch of the Fruit Loops he was eating – watching you work with interest, but not with the balls in his pants to give his two cents of opinion. Or maybe he didn't have any, opinions, you meant of course. "...And a pair of sport shorts from me are in there too, lent them to her once, never got them back. They're these Unisex ones, so don't worry about giving everyone a showcase of your ass cheeks…" Because it's hard giving back items to yourself of course, but hey, you're in a need to be creative and currently all of that actual talent went into drawing the features of the suspect.

It took not long, you hear his naked feet pad over to the kitchen again, placing the bowl into the sink and then disappear wordlessly into the adjacent room, the bedroom. It gives you a bit of a smile, knowing he listened to your words without thinking about them like…ten times over in his head, like usually. He needed to know and believe that you wanted anything but to harm him, to hurt him like he was by everyone around him before. You wanted nothing but the best for him, the same chance you were given. And you would keep that promise close to heart, reminding yourself of that as long as you had to, until he recovered to some extent.

Nearly done with the base of the sketch, you hear now socked feet return from the bedroom, calmly turning around to look at him. And while you said that they were…neutral, the shirts, it was still somewhat obvious that they once were supposed to be worn by a woman, especially one with a bigger chest, the gray melange colored cotton fabric stretched and worn out much more at the upper chest section from many previous times you wore it. Most of the clothes in your safehouse were older ones that you didn't wear anymore but thought to be too well kept still to just throw away.

But at least the shorts should sit rig-

...well…no, they don't.

He shouldn't wear THOSE on the street, unless he likes people staring at his crotch…damn. Damn…

Focus, Faith!

Shaking your head free of these inappropriate thoughts, like a fucked up etch-n-sketch drawing, you nod at Jerome with approval. It wasn't perfect, hell, it wasn't even a good fit – mostly becauseof these damn shorts! – , but it was miles and miles better than the disgusting Prisoner Uniform. At least now people wouldn't stare because they think he escaped Arkham or Blackgate, but just because it looks weird on him.

"Nice pink socks you found there, Buddy." You teased, already looking back to your sketch on the coffee table though before you saw his face's reaction to it. The cushions dipped down next to you, with quite the distance, basically the other end of the couch, as he kneaded his hands once more in his lap.

"It's not like I had much choice. The others are pink or purple with glitter or lace…" It's not like you expected to stash a boy in these four walls anytime soon, so yeah…of course the clothes and the underwear will fit to the taste of a 18 year old girl that has her own Credit Card. "Again, I will inform her that she needs to take you clothes shopping, but to bring a set of…street-friendly clothes beforehand." Instead of texting anyone though, you simply opened your Notes and Calendar Apps on your phone.

'Take Jerome shopping for clothes, Tomorrow/ASAP (steal some of Tim's Clothes as well, the bigger ones) ALSO: GROCERIES!!'

Just having put down the phone again, Jerome saw your sketch of the Suspect, mouth falling open slightly, "Holy shit. That's a really good sketch! Did Batman teach you how to sketch these Suspect portraits?" No…not in the slightest, your Dad can remember faces, but he can't draw for shit. One of the few flaws in the Bat, one that you erased in yourself by challenging yourself with new faces every week. Or perhaps it's the photographic memory, though it has a bit of a "life of its own", as Dad calls it. You just call it moody.

It doesn't always work out for you, sometimes you remember things to a T...usually the map of a videogame...

Sometimes you remember just as much as anyone else who looked at the scene, and there have been plenty of times your siblings looked at you with hope, hoping your memory played along but it just didn't in that moment, causing you to shrug, not able to help any more than them.

"No, I usually draw them for him or the rest if they remember enough of the person." Or Alfred. Alfred is quite good at drawing faces too, being the only source of a person that you could turn to and trust with teaching you to hone this skill.

"So you drew all this just from Faith's description…that's mental!"

"And that's just the start of everything. Though I doubt it will be much of a challenge to find this man, from what I can see."

You return matter of factly while going to the whiteboard to put up the drawing with a magnet, looking over your shoulder to wave the ginger over to you, pointing at the sketch, "...But I want to hear it from you. What is the important detail? What tells me where to look for this man?" "M-me?" Yes, from you Jerome, or do you see anyone else behind yourself?

He hesitates at first, then comes to stand next to you, a head taller than you with ease as he looks at the sketch as well, though rather confused instead of enlightened like you, then down to you. "This is the first thing I'm going to teach you as my Aide, Jerome, finding clues and hints on the already existing and cataloged evidence of a case…" you went on, almost feeling put into your father's spot when he first began to teach you and the others how to master the arts of investigations and the work that stood behind being a Detective while also a Vigilante.

You just hope Jerome isn't as dense as some of you were with some subjects.

With Hawk-like eyes, you watch him fall into surprisingly deep focus, scrutinizing the sketch you made. He would need to become faster with deciphering some things in the future, but that's why he is still learning, he will take years to get even close to mastering some of these things. Some of these things, you struggle with to this day, but not to a point that you can't forward your current knowledge and know-how to him.

Then something lights up in his eyes, a smile growing on his pale face. A smile that still could melt you to the ground, something you wouldn't even dream of telling him, not as Faith, not as Phoenix. You wanted him to become more confident in himself as a person, not cocky!

"Is…is it the scar?" …

"Correct. It is the scar. A very familiar pattern to one very familiar type of weapon. A trick umbrella, specifically one with a mini harpoon that can be launched from its tip with the press of a button that's placed down at the handle." And there was only one person that used such intricate, special weaponry the largest amount of times…

"The man we're looking for either works for the Penguin…or a rival Group?" Jerome was right with the first guess, which is unfortunate for one simple reason: If Cobblepot wanted one of his men to walk scott free, he would find his ways, that's how Gotham works.

That's how it has always worked: the corrupt are like slimy leeches that slip through every crack the law has left behind, never really staying in one's grip for long. The only way to stop these people was to cut the main leech's head off. Literally.

But, unfortunately, your dad doesn't allow such "drastic" measures, rather dealing with them by stuffing them back into Blackgate…over and over again. If he would just let you or Jason handle all these criminals, it…it wouldn't even take a night to ease some of the pressure on the normal, working class Gothamite.

"...Your grimace tells that's not good news, either way which guess was right, was one even ri-" "The police won't be able to prosecute this man, at least the chances are very slim. Even if I catch him, Cobblepot will, if this man is important in some way – which he will be, to cover up the crime he committed in the Penguin's name or order – he will find a way to get the suspect an attorney and out of the law's grip. We got…used to it, in a forced way of thinking." Jerome frowns at your bitter observation, crossing his arms before looking back at the sketch, grumbling under his breath.

"Yeah, but…you're PHOENIX, dammit! When did you, or Red Hood too, listen to the law! You killed criminals before for what they did!" Yes you did, and for most cases, you were determined to stay on your opinion that it was the right choice.

But only with the worst scum you crossed paths with. Rapists, Serial Killers, anyone doing harm to children in any form – which often includes the first two examples as well – human traffickers and terrorists, but mostly those that tried to use biological weapons like Anthrax and so on. So you and Jason followed a similar pattern, just that your set of rules sometimes fell onto deaf ears with yourself if a criminal got onto the wrong foot on the wrong day with you.

Or if your butterfingers slipped on the trigger-

"...Red Hood and I have ethics and rules about that. We don't just kill any small time criminal that crosses our path, like some pathetic shoplifter or bank Robber. Because I personally, I don't know how Red Hood sees it, still believe that such crimes can be redeemed after Prison if they want to redeem themselves." You sure hoped that he didn't connect Faith's and Phoenix very similar Philosophies to each other, otherwise, well, at least he would be smarter than you took him for.

But it would also be bad news for your priority rule: Keep your secret identity safe, in turn, keep Jerome safe.

"So…what can we do?" He asks with some desperation in his voice, even some glimmer of annoyance in his eyes. Though you were sure it wasn't directed at you, but instead at the man "in front of you". Did he see it as unfair that he was caught and detained for what he did and this man most likely won't even see a Blackgate cell from the inside? "Well, while he is still afraid of losing his freedom, I can weaponize that fear to press some information for other things out of him." And you have a knack for interrogations, to a point your dad suspected by now that you maybe had a bit too much fun with it. But can someone blame you, even if an asshole can't be taken behind bars, you can make them wish they were from the amount of secrets and info you often salvaged from their pitiful, begging forms.

Ruthless enough to kill a potentially innocent man, following orders like a trained dog, not a single brain cell in those heads used to think about the things they did for the already dirty, laundered money.

But if a nearly less than 5ft tall girl comes along, beats their ass into the asphalt or cement, commands them to speak up about their crimes and that of their group, they shit their pants and act like they are the victims. Too bad that you're wearing the costume, not them…

"...so we're still going to find out where he hangs around? And how much do you think you can get out of him?" Doesn't surprise you that he isn't against interrogating the suspect, as despite his overall fearing and overly filled with respect for you and Gordon, he still had this obvious side to him. A side you can't pinpoint that well, was it just plain anger? Or something more calculated that he himself had a hard time controlling?

" 'course we are. What kind of vigilante would I be if I left it at that? As for how much, i don't know yet. But i won't leave empty-handed, that's for sure." You ask, motioning at the portrait with your open palm before uncapping the black whiteboard marker again, the conversation finished in your own eyes so you tried to return to the focus of the mission.

Beginning to scribble down the current, potential sights the Penguin's men were seen at recently, you were quick to fill half the board, switching out for the green or red markers whenever you knew you needed a bit more contrast to find certain places or information more quickly again. Done, you cap all the pens once more, throwing them over your shoulder, too focused on one specific location to care much for where they ended up. Unlike Jerome, who followed the trajectory of them with his eyes, from what you caught from the corner of your own eyes, walking after them to pick them back up and put them down more carefully.

A vigilante and a former Arkham Inmate are in the same room and the inmate ends up being the more calm, collected one. Sounds like a bad joke, and yet here you were.

"Because then we can stop whatever else he and his buddies are planning. In my…profession…you have to learn to see something good, the positive, in everything. Even a potential setback."

If you don't, the amount of inevitable failures you witness and make in your line of work, they have the potential to drive you insane, drive you into a mad need for perfection.

And perfection isn't possible. But one can always thrive to make the best from the worst scenarios, that was what made you you. What made you take on the moniker of Phoenix, never let the bad and awful win, mentally and physically, keep going and keep pushing till you win, but never lose your true self in the process.

#jerome valeska x batsis!oc #jerome valeska x oc #dc x oc #batfam x oc #batfam x batsis!oc #batfam x batsis #Innocent Jerome Valeska

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simpingwriter · 9 months

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MORE BATFAM QUOTES. HELL YEAH.

_______________________

*the siblings are in a bar for a mission*

Tim, wasted after one Pina Colada: I am the left brain, I am the left brain. "I work really hard until my inevitable death" brain. You've got a job to do, you better do it right and the right way is with the left brain's might!

Jason: Nerd-

Dick, more drunk than the rest: I LIKE OREOS AND PUSSY-

_______________________

Jason: What doesn't kill me better start running, because now I'm fucking pissed.

_______________________

Faith: Dinosaurs aren't extinct. I mean, Dad is walking in this room.

Barbara: *wheeze*

_______________________

*Faith ate Damian's Cookie*

Damian: I’m gonna kill you.

Faith: Get in line like the rest!

_______________________

Bruce, bragging to an acquaintance: I’m telling you, my kids are extremely smar-

Faith, rushing in: Dad! Dad! Damian tried to make pasta in the coffee pot and now it's broken!

Damian: Snitch...

_______________________

Damian: I have a 1:30 appointment for the flu shot with Alfred tomorrow...

Faith: Which doctor?

Damian: No, with the regular doctor.

_______________________

Faith: Social distancing says you shouldn't be within an elbow's distance of each other.

*later, in a barfight, same as the one before*

Faith: Social distancing doesn't say nothing about feet! *kicks opponent in the face*

_______________________

Faith: This food is too hot... I cant eat it.

Jerome: You’re very hot, and I still eat you. So stop complaining.

Everyone at the table: *silence*

Jason: YOU GUYS ARE DISGUSTING!

Dick: One dinner... I just want ONE DINNER!

_______________________

Barbara: Hey, Bruce you're smart, tell me...what would happen if I chugged 3 gallons of chloroform.

Bruce: Have you ever been to a mortuary?

Barbara: Yea, my dad's mom lives there.

Alfred: That is the worst response to that question.

_______________________

*Jason chugging milk from the container*

Dick, drinking some coffee: "Aren't you lactose intolerant??"

Jason: "This isn't lactose, it's milk."

Tim: "you're a fucking idiot."

Dick: *spits coffee everywhere*

#batfam shitpost #batfam x oc #batfam shenanigans #incorrect book quotes #batfam incorrect quotes #batfam x batsis

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simpingwriter · 9 months

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Jerome Valeska

Faith Wayne/Phoenix

'All you need is

a bit of Faith'

pt.7

___________________

...but in exchange, I got TWO chapters done! Wooo yeah baby~ 😎

First time of the family in the story, MediNait Blackout Fest, then hitting up the ginger the next morning as Phoenix.

Enjoy! :)

Word Count: approx. 3.410 Words

___________________

When you park your motorcycle in front of the garage, you can already see the light coming from the living room and kitchen windows of the Manor, and it wasn't weird for the time of day either, it's 7PM by now and that usually meant it's time for dinner.

Unfortunately you were absolutely out of spare clothes in your backpack, so you had to literally decide between driving home dressed like an escapee from Arkham or go through the exhausting troubles of getting into your Phoenix-costume until back home.

Dad and his reputation can thank you for having enough cells in your body left that know what shame is and what it feels like to a certain extent which in the end practically forced you into the tight costume.

Add to that that you were absolutely losing your literal mind with the cold clogging up near all holes available to your airways, you were grateful that you could drive home relatively safely in the first place. "God I hope I got some MediNait left in my first aid cabinet, that no one raided it…again, while I was gone." You mumble to yourself while turning the main house key in the lock, though before you can finish turning it, the door gets pulled inwards, close to dragging you along had you not some sense of balance left in your limbs.

On the other side, the culprit of opening the door was none other than Jason, brows pulled up when he looked you up and down, "You look like you died and came back as well." Probably because you're starting to feel exactly like that, more and more by the hour too. "...Cool. Now let me in, Jay…" Pushing past him, you rip your Mask off first, then your gloves, then your boots. The worst things first.

Then you lie down with a groan, feeling the tiled foyer floor cool down your skin, wondering how there wasn't steam rising from you by now already. "The hell happened to you??" your older "brother" asks, poking your side with one socked foot before crouching down next to you at the height of your head. "Gotham River… that's what happened." You cough out, rolling onto your back just in time to see the rest fill into the Foyer. "The cat brought in a dead firebird?" Damian jokes, doing the same thing Jason did, poking you with his foot. This family was mostly not by blood, that didn't mean that you all didn't copy or learn stupid shit from each other, this being one of the many examples.

"How is the River the reason you look this shi- bad? Dad informed us that you're doing undercover work for the Commissioner in Arkham." Well, the river is right next to that shithole. "Does that really matter now, Master Jason? Clearly Lady Faith is not in the condition to argue with you as usual."

You were, you just didn't want to. Too tired and exhausted…okay…maybe you weren't in the condition, point taken.

"You're getting a cold, aren't you, Lady Faith?" Full course into one, yes. "Alfred, how do you know it's a cold?" At that, Dick needs to laugh, pointing down at Damian now, "Damian is sick too, since this morning, that's how." Of course it's always the siblings connected by blood that end up sick at the same fucking time, it's somehow always like that, but never Damian first. He just follows up and immediately everyone goes: "Faith, since when have you been carrying that shit around without asking for help?" You refuse to ask anyone but Alfred for help, because everyone else is absolutely helpless in these situations. So why ask in the first place if you know you only end up getting half buried alive again like last time??

A shiver runs down your spine, incidentally so did Damian shake, glaring at you, "You're a curse, sister." "And you're a brat…that refuses his Jacket even in a blizzard, obviously a…a damn skill issue." More coughing later, Alfred and Bruce are done watching this miserable scene, one of them helping you back to your feet while the other escorts everyone back to the Dining room. And the sight would almost bring tears to your face: Hot, steaming Chicken Noodle Soup, most definitely cooked by Alfred, taking it from the way it looks basically perfect. "Since young Master Damian had a cold, I thought it was best to make one not just for him but for everyone. A type of prevention for the rest of us. Plus, I got a kind of feeling it would've hit you too."

After Alfred explained, he hurried back into the kitchen to ready a bowl for you as well while you sink into your chair. It was just a week, but it felt like an eternity to not have felt the nice cushions on these chairs, or the generally inviting interior of the Manor. It was quite literally worlds that differentiate this all from Arkham. And something inside you wished you could've taken Jerome here as well instead of just the apartment.

But you knew how your family ticks and what makes them tick specifically, bringing Jerome here? All hell would break loose. You won't even mention him and you meeting if they ask you about this Undercover Mission, and they will definitely ask, it would be weird for them to not be interested. Even Jason and Damian usually wanted to know what happened on the missions or Patrols of the others. You talk and think about the two like they are your least favorite siblings of them all, but if anything it was the polar opposite: You had the closest connection to Jason of them all. And Damian? Even though he avoided it at first, and so did you, you both quickly realized you have quite a lot in common due to your shared father, so you often train and hang out together despite the age difference.

But it was only natural, the closer siblings were, the more brutal the teasing and "insults" would become.

"The damn cold, I'm freezing like hell…" It makes Bruce hum, looking outside, "It's mid-autumn already, it's getting much colder, much quicker again. So I wouldn't just push it onto your cold alone. I will start the fireplace in the living room with Alfred after dinner. If you're still cold after, maybe we should start the one in your's and Damian's rooms as well..." Damian, sitting across from you, grunts out in disapproval at that, partially stopped by a cough, "I'm not cold! I'm not as weak as her!" Shut up, you shivering too, Garden Gnome. He shook just as much as you, it just didn't show as much through him already wearing some thicker, warmer clothes than you. After all, your Costume is uninsulated unlike the Cold-Weather one you usually started using towards the end of Autumn Season. Perhaps you should switch them out sooner this year…

When dinner was finished, along with some Pudding for dessert and you all started to migrate to the living room after helping to clean up the mess, well, excluding you and Damian in your clumsy conditions, Bruce clears his throat, crouching over the right side of the fireplace, placing some dry wood pieces in. Right. Here it comes, he will ask about the mission now-

"So. The undercover mission. I take it as having ended positively if you're back already?" Already is not the word you would've chosen. One week was already more than enough for your probably relatively short lifespan – in comparison to other People – as Phoenix. The others settled into the couch cushions as well, getting much more comfy than you, as you didn't plan on dozing off on it at all. You need to be fit again till tomorrow afternoon at least, if not earlier.

"More or less, the day I caught the suspect for Gordon was also the day I took a bath into that dank river. And they ended up tossing me right back into those freezing cells, not even bothering to think about a new set of clothes for me..." They could imagine for themselves how that would feel, when you feel the cold of the walls bite at your skin and bones already and then you add a dripping layer of dirty River canal water to the mixture. "In that case I am pleasantly surprised that you got away with just a cold, Lady Faith." Alfred was right about that, you could have as well gotten the flu or worse…pneumonia.

Had that once and never again. Mostly because you dragged Damian into that mess as well, as expected. And you hated having a second person sick in the Manor, why? Obvious reasons: Just you sick, Alfred can pay enough attention to your sick ass so you don't waste away in your own used tissues for weeks, just a few days maybe. But TWO? It's going to be WEEKS of two Robins completely taken out of the equation and Patrols. Mostly because despite his intelligence, and stupid "gEnEtIc AdVaNtAgEs"...he is still a stubborn little brat that refuses to take the bitter medicine when needed.

"How did you even end up in the river, darling?" Bruce asks worriedly, pulling his hand away quickly before the fire got to it when he threw more lumber into it. Feed it and it wants to bite you for it, ...feral Fire, ha ha. Stop it, Faith.

"...saw the suspect...and...climbed over the Courtyard fence?" Your siblings first stare then laugh, probably a mental image of you basically throwing yourself like a this time legitimate madman over the barbed wire at the top. "You broke out of Arkham…because it was an inconvenience to you, you're basically saying?" Basically, yeah. Had you known that the fucker would just return to sender (the crime scene) like that, you wouldn't have done all this shit and would've just posted up nearby, preferably in a car that has heating installed.

But you of course wouldn't have met and talked to Jerome that way. He would've still been…there. Wasting and rotting away more and more mentally, until not even the world's best therapist and psychologist could shake sense back into him.

Just like his very unfortunate origin of blood, his father the Joker, there would probably be nothing left to do but put him in a straight jacket and hope he doesn't accidentally kill himself while trying to escape that certain "clothing" article.

Who knows…three more months? Would Jerome have gained some unhealthy confidence through someone or something else and broke out? Killed people on the same day, caused havoc? Who would you be to not stop that from happening AND save a boy from becoming someone he doesn't even want to be at this point of time?

"Still with us?" "Huh? Y-yeah, just sunken in thoughts. Not so important though." "If you say so. I asked how you want to continue with what you have thanks to seeing the suspect? Did you give Gordon's men the description of the man?" You shake your head, already having set aside a plan for Phoenix to follow once you feel at least a slight bit better. "Well, Lady Faith, if i'm correct and you're going to do this yourself, you need to be fit again. I recommend drinking a lot of water, even more than usual. Preferably the same Electrolyte Water you and your siblings use during training sessions." Alfred notes loudly from the kitchen, placing two two liter bottles of said water onto the counter, the heaviness of them underlined by the sound they made, a deep thump.

Heavier than Jason's self-loath.

All that in ONE night?? You’re never getting out of the bathroom at that point…

But Alfred usually was right when it came to any of you getting sick, so you didn't have much of a choice than to trust him. "O-okay. Guess I should start then, and go to bed to be rested for tomorrow…" grabbing the bottles, one in each hand, you trotted back out to the living room, giving your Dad a hug and wishing everyone a unified goodnight before slipping away fully for the night.

Once in your room, you steer into the bathroom and before you hit the hay, you grab the rest of the MediNait left from last time. You had thrown away the instructions when you unpacked it a few months ago, so you don't remember what the right dosag- eh. fuck it, down the hatch!

The green liquid burned like medicinal honey, smooth yet disgusting as it moved down your throat, many big gulps of Electrolyte Water getting sent right after to clean your pallet of the nasty green magic liquid. While it tastes absolutely awful and at least half of your family doesn't feel better through it either way, it was half a miracle potion when used on you.

So it wasn't far off for you to believe that if you both downed half that left-over bottle – already sitting on your bed while doing so, knowing it's side effects of making everyone and everything sleepy with just the fumes it creared – and followed Alfred's advice for the Wat-

When you wake again, you are in a different spot on your bed than before, you also weren't in the confines of your Costume anymore, the main part of it thrown haphazardly over the chair of your desk, your underwear missing entirely and the water bottles both empty…

Did you mentally blackout the last hours yesterday? If yes, congrats to yourself for drinking all that water and not just yet wetting your bed…but it was just about as your struggle out from your bed. The very bed that you missed so badly while in Arkham. You don't even remember what bed and mattress you had in the safe house that Jerome is using right now, but you hoped it was something similarly comfortable. And if it was, you wanted to imagine him lying in it, too comfortable and lazy to move even one muscle once he lies in it. You doubted that the bed in his old trailer from the Circus was all that comfy either, so if past-you was as smart as today – oh...she definitely wasn't – and it's the same mattress as here, this might be a welcome change to his back.

Standing up, you're quick to notice the missing dizziness and the ease on your lung trying to breath in Air once more. Fuck, you love MediNait.

Knocks you out, like your allergy meds, and does the rest while the lights are out.

After quickly using the bathroom in your room to take care of the mess you left behind on yourself, you went to pick up your strewn about Suit, first putting on fresh underwear and immediately throwing yourself back into your Costume. There is never a day you don't have to wear it for some reason or another, so you need to remember to switch out for one of your spare ones on washing day…

You barely had found your way into garage when you felt something akin to a tension or stress headache forming all around your head, great so the medic-

"Where are you going so early in the morning?" Never fucking mind, the headache is just Damian…

"Good morning to you too, head- i mean, Damian… If it matters to you, I need to finish the promise I gave to Gordon and catch his suspect." The boy squints and shakes his head with a sigh, "Do you even know where to start with that? I thought you only got his description." Yes, you do only have that, but that alone can give you enough hints to at least shrink the search radius for him. "That's why I'm leaving now already. And you get back to bed, unlike me you still sound like death molested you…" Even when he scoffs at your actually serious recommendation, himself not done with you, you grab your helmet from the rack at the wall and get onto motocycle that Phoenix used, it was black and Grey with orange and yellow accents unlike the dark purple sportbike you yourself used as Faith. This one was similar in design to the Batcycle and drove just like it.

"I wasn't done talking!" "I was! See you and the rest for dinner! And take your cold medicine!" Damian was smart enough to not jump in front of the motorcycleas you started it, clearly it wasn't that important to him anyways as he rather chose to childishly pout at you while you started the bike and drove off towards the city, your cape flying behind you.

It was a ten minute drive usually, in your case six as you had luck and the highway you and the rest used to get into the city was still relatively empty, the morning rush not yet having started and giving you the thrill of speed to wake you fully now.

On the way, you still had to decide whether to drive to the Station and Gordon, to your safe house and Jerome or to just investigate on your own for now. But unfortunately your curiosity got the best of you, drawing you in like a magnet in front of the building your safe house, or "Faith's Apartment" is located at, hiding the motorcycle with its invisibility cloak setting. At first, you wanted to use the second set of keys you had of them, luckily the only other set, otherwise who knows who of your family would suddenly decide to check in your apartment only to find a stranger living in it. And then you remember that you're here as Phoenix, not Faith. Phoenix doesn't own this apartment, in Jerome's eyes.

Slightly disgruntled at that, you throw the keys back into the small satchel on your tool belt before getting your gloves to good use, unsheathing the metal claws hidden inside the mechanism on top. With them, you quickly could scale most walls around Gotham, if that didn't work, you still could use the grappling gun everyone of you had. Within half a minute, you slipped onto the balcony in front of the living room window of the Safe House.

You couldn't fight it as quickly as it came, the smile once you saw the redhead walking around in…oh dear. Still wearing the dirty Prison Uniform. Did Jim not give him at least one different set of clothes??

You really need to change that, but you don't know if you're going to have the time for such "miscellaneous" deviations today. Plus, Phoenix isn't exactly the kinda person to suddenly go shopping with someone and walk among the rest of the Gothamites like a normal person, she's a brutal, often feared, Vigilante for God's sake! That's a job for Faith!

Well, at least it looked like he took a shower, a fulfilling one at that, his hair did look much nicer than you expected when not coated and crusted with his own blood and the cement dust of the cells.

You can't help but chuckle at the little jump going through his whole body once you knocked at the window, feeling the smile growing into a smirk when his eyes widen, seeing you at the window, unable to react at first.

"Could you let me in please?" You knock again to throw him back to his senses, a quick nod followed by him almost falling over his feet to get to the window and open it, watching you as you leaned against the windowsill with your forearms. "It's…it's really you…you're Phoenix!"

"In the blood, yeah. First of all, good morning, Jerome, second of all, Faith asked me to check up on you, since she couldn't stay all that long after getting you to the Precinct." Climbing in through and into the living room, you stretch out a bit from the climb up the wall, still keeping your eyes on Jerome either way. He looked not as well rested as you expected.

"...I'm guessing you didn't sleep that well, so we can take that one off the list of 'Yeah, doing good', huh?" He averted his dark green eyes, something in the mix of shame and annoyance in them, nodding, "You could say so…i.I…had a nightmare. But that's nothing new to me."

Nightmares?

You doubt they are of Arkham, as he knew them to be nothing new to him. And from what he had told you, you could believe that opinion. You had a pretty good idea where these nightmares actually come from and why he has them anyways: His mother and the abuse he got from her, his twin and from the rest of the people working at the Circus. Maybe even of the Circus itself if his trauma constantly was fed and built in that very place. Or perhaps even of the day he killed her?

No, you doubt that. While he seemed spooked about quite literally anything that moved too quickly or he didn't know, you were very certain that Jerome…that he didn't exactly regret what he did. Maybe someday he will see that his abuse could've been ended in different, legal ways, but regret will probably never come to his mind, and if, not for very long.

But: No matter what the cause is, you, both Faith and Phoenix, will attempt to get this out of his mind as well.

You knew all too well how nightmares could mess with one's head, the repeated memory of Jason's death back then, the funeral, being an example...

#jerome valeska x oc #Jerome Valeska x batsis!Oc #jerome valeska x batsis #dc x oc #jerome valeska x batsis!oc #batfam x oc #batfam x batsis #Innocent Jerome Valeska

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simpingwriter · 9 months

Text

Jerome Valeska

Faith Wayne/Phoenix

'All you need

is a bit of Faith'

pt.6

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Took me a moment, bought Gotham Knights and have been very...VERY...realistic by doing Patrol Rounds for hours in the night. I now know what the Batfam must feel like doing that every night, because DAMN the miscellaneous crimes are NEVER ENDING. And I hate leaving stuff undone, especially in games.

Anyways:

Car ride, "what is a cookie?" and they finally get to the station!

Enjoy! :)

Word Count: approx. 3.800 Words

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"Oh thank fucking god, my backpack, you thought about it." Was the first thing that you managed to say when you opened the door to the left side of the backseats, grabbing it to look for something.

"And no Lighters, as promised…" Jim told you, eyeing Jerome cautiously even now, surprised at how awestruck a person could be at the outside world after just one month of Arkham. But Jim missed the part you knew about: Before Arkham happened, Jerome knew only the near surroundings of where the Circus ended up going that month, rarely getting to see the Towns and cities like many of the other workers of the Circus.

"...But where are we going now?" He asks once you all sit in the car, nearing fresh but much milder panic from not finding his seat belt until you helped him with it. His hands still shook like leaves in the wind, which your sudden close proximity to each other didn't seem to help with at all, brushing his warm thigh on accident. You could basically feel the shiver that ran down both of your spines at the close contact, but you kept up the act of not noticing it yourself. Sitting down in your own seat correctly, you dig back into your backpack. You felt relief fall off your shoulder in forms of boulders when you not only found your medication but also that whoever had your Backpack last was smart enough to remove your Costume from it as well.

Would've been very awkward in front of Jerome, having your mask or your tool belt tumble out on accident. And it would've caused a whole new series of questions for you to answer one way or another, not to forget the earful you'd be getting from your dad and the rest if they found out you blew your cover in the most ridiculously, avoidable way possible.

"There’s a bottle of water under your seats somewhere, for the pills." Gordon informs you, quick to notice the familiar orange pill bottle in your hands through the rear view mirror. A small thanks on your lips, you begin feeling around for it while pushing the pill bottle into Jerome's hand for a moment. "Got it."

Of course they wouldn't immediately do their job, like most medication if they weren't made to have a quick working function, it's not magic after all. But alone the knowledge that you were able to take them again calmed you down immensely, leaning your head back as you sank into the seat. All felt fine, until a certain noise ran through the closed space of Jim's private car.

The rumbling and growling of two stomaches.

"I take from that the food they serve isn't that good?" It's probably better that you didn't eat at all in that whole week there, but you knew if you said that, it would reach your dad's or more specifically Alfred's ears in less than a day and you really didn't want to deal with both of them telling you something you already knew: Food is important, even if it tastes like the bottom of a garbage bin, eat it for nutrients, blah blah blah...

How could you possibly still do that with your tastebuds spoiled to hell and back by Alfred's and your own cooking talent? "...No, not really." You tell Jim instead, Jerome just nodding with profound agreement, his eyes telling you without having to ask that he isn't missing that stuff. "Do you think we could stop at Subway on the way to the station?" "Fai- " "Pleaseeeee?"

Back in the car, with two bagged footlongs under your arm, one for you, one for Jerome, you grin from ear to ear. Though it was very much incredibly awkward for both you and Jim when he walked into the Restaurant with his badge visible and you still dressed in these dirty, river water stained Rags they make you wear in the Asylum. Even though it was the very reason you wanted to leave Jerome in the car – so not everyone immediately realized who he was just a few minutes after he is out – you absolutely erased the fact that you ALSO wore the "uniform" still, from every corner of your brain. Worth the sandwich.

Spoiled Taste Buds or not, Subway stayed your most precious, favorite fast-food option. Mostly because of the huge array of actual options. And the Cookies, most importantly the Cookies. A love that went so far that you scoured the entire internet with the Batcomputer for the very best rendition of these damned cookies with Alfred. The latter having gotten forced into trying out all these recipes with you, baking and eating you mean.

"And give Jerome his cookie, Faith." Quick, you gotta play dumb! "...What's a cookie?" Not that dumb…

Grumbling slightly, you reach into the plastic bag around the sandwiches, fishing out two small paper bags, faning the two bags out in your hand. Holding them out, you turn your head towards Jerome as well, "Macadamia White Chocolate or Raspberry Cheesec- " But you stop yourself when you take in his confused look at everything like it's the first time he saw-...wait. How high are the chances that Jerome never had Subway before…very high, thinking about the fact that he was not much anywhere else than the Circus, still.

Well, today is a first for him then, for many things.

"Which one do you want?" He wakes from the daze he had on them, shaking his head slightly. "Whichever you don't want…" How sweet and kind of the prettyboy…but they are both your personal favorites, that's why you choose them, you don't give Jerome the lesser good option if you can have a good one. You don't have a favorite between those two. "Realistically then, you wouldn't get eit- " "FAITH." Just like your old man, DAMN…

Rolling your eyes, you hand the Cheesecake one to Jerome after he pointed at it with a smile. "I hope you're a fan of spicy double cheese double beef Philly Cheese with Truffle Sauce?" Stupid Faith, STUPID, he doesn't know Subway-Language. But he either way nods slowly, flabbergasted at the train of words for one sandwich, almost making it obvious from how he stared at it that he was just as starved as he made it sound back in Arkham.

"Please don't make a mess out of the backseats…" Jim begs, already feeling mentally exhausted from you two, starting to drive towards the Precinct once more. Not without cursing at his unlucky wave of red lights of course. But that way you and Jerome at least had more than enough time to shove both Sandwich halves down your gaping maws. Something the older man could only follow with shock on his face, two 18 year olds basically inhaling such an amount of calories and all it had around, finishing off with the Cookies and the Soft Drinks you got for you two. "What?? We're still growing!" "Yeah, in width if you keep going like that, geez, puberty ends at around 17!" Although Jim knew very well that, even if Jerome was not…yet, you were constantly on the move when not rotting away in Arkham for him!

Dumping the wrapper papers and the bags in the nearest trash can on the way out of the car, Jim enters the precinct with both of you in tow. While some officers only noticed you at first glance, greeting you, waving at you and welcoming you back…some noticed Jerome first.

And boy was them remembering him from about a month ago evident, inching away from the three of you, either staring or glaring at the ginger. Once you caught onto the obvious hostility in the bullpen towards Jerome, you pull him towards you, wrapping an arm around him to signal something subtly for all the people around him: He is here from your decisions. And most of the time, your decisions can be trusted, having helped way too many times, so often that half the officers can't even count that high.

"Faith…I think they still hold a grudge..." "Not a grudge. The greatest amount that do indoor work are too doped up on caffeine for such refined emotions. But they are wary, yes." And from all patrol officers and the Detectives he should probably...stay away, which is concerning, taking in the fact that Jerome is supposed to be an Aide for exactly the latter.

With your and his luck, he ends up in the very team of two Detectives that had his case a month ago. And Jim must be thinking about it too to some degree, reading his face once he got him and you into his own private office. "...So the mood dropped about ten degrees into the negative ever since your ginger set foot into the station, since clearly my men still remember well and probably read the news that day…like their families and nearly every other Gothamite…and even then you really want him to work here nearly every day now? With two of these very people?" It was the plan at first, but Jim was right, even though he didn't utter a word about it, you both shared the same idea: This wasn't going to work out too well, and the problem didn't even come from Jerome's side, he promised on his life to both you during the car ride that he would do his best as an Aide, during therapy and so on. But from everyone else's side…

"...In that case I got one last option, one that would benefit you, Jerome and that other person…Make him the Aide of Phoenix." You need to pat yourself on the back for that idea later, you Cold-ridden Faith. You really do. Jerome's posture changed at the name drop, surprising you once more with something you apparently didn't know about him yet. "Ph-phoenix?! She works with the GCPD?? She's so cool as a Vigilante, more than Batman even! She isn't afraid of beat-" Jim clears his throat, motioning a time-out with his hands before rubbing his temples, making sure none of you two would interrupt him while he talks before giving his own opinion, "As much as I like to see you be so enthusiastic about Phoenix, especially since she is, along with Red Hood, among the more...controversial heroes this town has seen grow among their streets…Faith, I doubt Phoenix has time to deal with Jerome while he still needs training nearly all day or night?"

Yeah true, when you're dealing with patrol, you couldn't twaddle around at the Precinct with paperwork or with small crime time shit. Who knew what would happen during Patrol – this is Gotham, there is small crimes happening at every. damn. corner – so even if you took and bit the bullet by just bringing Jerome along for said Patrol, it's plain and simply way too dangerous for him, untrained in absolutely everything that is important to even join, not even talking yet about participate in one. "She will find a way, she is a smart cookie." Jerome tilts his head at your statement, mostly because your nose was still clogged up from your more than obvious cold symptoms, making your words sound very nasally, but also something else, "You talk so casually about Phoenix…"

Oh…oh God, did he already-

"You know her personally, don't you, Faith?! Holy shit, that's so cool!"

Nope, nope he didn't…thank God he is NOT as good at reading clues as almost any other person you talked with on a mostly weekly basis. Yet. Phoenix could definitely spend a few hours teaching him the basics of your work. And especially how to fight back himself without...without accidentally killing someone again, for the days neither you can be at his side from a call of either of the names you listened to.

"I do, you're right. I think I can go as far as calling us good friends, we talk a lot." You claim, telling him the mother of lies with a grin as Jim hid his face in his hands, but once he recovered, he pulled a stack of papers from a file cabinet behind him. The same contract you signed for your cover-up profession as an Detective Aide.

More of a Commissioner's Aide at this point, but bringing that up anytime soon would short-circuit the little patience the older man still had for your or your heroic alter ego.

"Jerome, read through these and sign accordingly, everywhere where I made an X just now, okay? I need to talk to Faith in the meantime." Jim said, explaining Jerome's next steps while handing the papers to the ginger and walking back around the desk to put a hand on your shoulder. The grip it had could mean only one thing: You're gonna explain yo shit right now, kid.

In the next room, nearly an interrogation room from the design and the fact that it's probably more sound-proof than the rest of the Precinct – excluding the actual interrogation rooms of course –, Gordon sits on the table with a sigh, "Really? Phoenix? That's your best way to handle it? By just making it even more of your fault if something happens??"

If he knew you in any way, he would know that the answer is yes. It will always be yes, especially for Phoenix. Both Faith and Phoenix may do stupid, risky or reckless plans and ideas. But once you start them, once they roll into action and there is no way out or back, you will stand by said plan till the end. Whether it ends good or badly for you. And while you always accept another party wanting to join in on the plan or idea – after of course making sure they are capable of keeping themselves and others safe during that – you never, and you mean NEVER abandon a plan mid ride, leaving to watch from a distance as it crashes with them into a wall.

"Give me any better ideas, you know where to hand in your business inquiries when I'm not physically available. Though Jason and Damian like ripping them up, so maybe not them." You sass at him, pulling up your nose, grimacing at this small bodily problem. One you needed to get rid off as soon as you could, otherwise Jerome might actually find out this charade sooner than you wanted. And you would prefer keeping it out of his already messy life, the knowledge of your identity would paint a massive target on his back if someone less nice found out that he knows. "You know I don't have any better ideas, but ALL of this wasn't my stupid idea in the first place. You should've just left hi-"

"Never. And I won't start THAT argument a second time, Gordon!" Whenever you started using Jim's last name with that tone, he knew that you were reaching your own limits of patience for certain subjects. And the fate of Jerome, whether you should've left him where you found him or shouldn't, was already a sore spot for said limit. It almost sounded like Jim treated his presence like a pesky stray that you could just have left in a dumpster…knowing said stray could've died the next morning or even night.

"Fine…fine. But a different problem then: Where the hell will you have him sleep? I sure as hell won't take him home with me if you made him your problem." It all really had its uncanny similarities with comparing the ginger next door with a stray.

A feral ginger Cat? Nope, Jerome is too held-back still to be a damn cat…

A Vizsla…that's what he is, a red coated Vizsla. Separation Anxiety and all, yeah.

"Are you even listening to me anymore?" "Yup." "What did I just say then??" Wait, he actually said something? Fuckkkk. "Uh, about me having to think about where Jerome will stay because he is my problem?" "That was five minutes ago…I think your cold is getting to you."

It probably is, have you really been thinking for a whole five minutes about what damn dog breed Jerome would be?! You would have to raid the first aid cabinet in your bathroom at home tonight if you kept getting worse, you needed to be near symptom-free until tomorrow at least. You can't go on Patrol feeling like that! Or especially thinking like that…

"I will refresh your mind then. I was talking about the various safe houses you and your family have around Gotham. Didn't you mention just two weeks ago that you finally got your own?"

Yes you did and you can see what Jim is meaning about it, nodding in quiet approval. The keys to it are somewhere in your backpack, so you could give them to Jim before you left for the Manor. "Can you bring him there later?" "You can do that yourself, and don't even think about detaching yourself already for today either, Faith. You still have the description of the Suspect for me…"

Oh right, the sole reason you're here again so…"quick". As long as you don't have to…wait, you have a much better idea.

"I got a deal for you instead, Jim." His brows pull up at the familiar words, crossing his arms, "...You said very similar words about two hours ago and now the Joker's son is currently filling out the papers to become not even an Aide for just a Detective…But Phoenix herself. I'm starting to grow wary of your damn deals, kid." You would too, but that wasn't the point you're trying to talk about. "How about you leave capturing your Suspect to me, and you…" you pull around in the side-pocket of your backpack before finally grasping what you wanted and pulling out a set of two inconspicuous keys on a keyring, "...you get Jerome to settle into his new four walls for now, until I got a better place for him."

You let the keys fall into his hands with a small, oh-so innocent, closed eye smile, knowing that he would agree one way or another, since you at least brought consistent results unlike his men. If you said you would bring a man in, you will...dead or alive. There is no "He ran away." from you, as unlike the officers or Detectives of the GCPD, you didn't tell a suspect from ten meters away who you are, giving them the time to run off.

"Fine, but don't just run off now, Jerome is basically attached to your hip from all the stuff I could watch till now. If you leave without explanation now, I worry he loses the ability to speak for himself entirely until you return." Jim's right, and it couldn't stay like that forever, absolutely not. You, or more precisely Phoenix, would have to give some damn guts to the ginger, he needed confidence if he wanted to survive in this hellhole of a city. Even as a law-abiding citizen he needs to know how to speak up if people want to trample all over him a second time.

No. Just like the rest of your family, you wait from the shadows, preferably above them and you jump once you have the right angle. And perhaps send a kick into their rips for good measure, courtesy of learning that from Jason after he returned to the Family as the 'Red Hood'.

He is no longer with his abusers, he is no longer in Arkham either, Jerome is no longer in an environment where every time he opens his mouth "without permission" he gets beaten or threatened.

"Of course, but promise me you're also going to look into the Therapists and Psychologists the GCPD has to offer for their officers. I would try to get him into the register for our own family therapist and Co. but I would rather avoid them finding out about Jerome for now, especially through that way." You return with a begging expression, remembering Jerome asking for a reevaluation of his diagnosis. Of course you wouldn't leave it at that afterwards, Jerome would need many sessions to talk about all the things that went wrong in his life. Depending on how ready he is for cooperation with his future therapist and psychologist, it might work out more quickly or much slower.

"I will, don't you worry. Now that he is here already, thanks to you, I can't exactly drop him either, that would be wrong. If…if you believe in him…so will I, kid. I just hope this doesn't end up cutting us both too deeply if we end up being wrong with our trust."

So did you…

Back in the office, you stop mid-way as you catch Jerome leaning over Jim's desk, being…rather busy. "What cha doing there, buddy?" You ask behind him, leaning over him to whisper into his ear, causing him to drop the pencil he held and freeze to the spot, goosebumps riding up his skin, "The desk was so…messy. S-sorry…". You could swear you saw the hint of a blush, but he kept his back turned to you, so you dropped that thought.

Jim also caught what Jerome was doing, about to ask you 'what the hell your stray is doing?!', until you start to laugh. First it was a relatively quiet one, then it got louder. "Faith? Did I do something wrong?" Oh no, dear little Vizsla, you're good, you're dandy…well, the Uniform makes you smell like a dumpster, but so do you. But other than that, it's not him that makes you laugh so much. But instead the fact that finally someone else noticed.

"...I fucking told ya, Jimbo, this is an unholy mess for the fact that this is the desk of the very Commissioner himself, holy shit!" You continue to laugh, even helping Jerome place down the last little things more correctly while Jim just watched on helplessly.

"Done now, you two?" "Dunno. Are we, Jerome?" You throw the question into his hands, watching and waiting for Jerome to find his voice. And unlike you expected him to have swallowed his voice again, he smiles back, "Yeah, we done." That's what you wanted to hear, how unfortunate that you had to leave at the very moment he was starting to make progress. At least you got to see that cute smile of his again before you had to handle the grumpy faces at home.

Once you looked at Gordon though, seeing him subtly nod at your silent question, you knew Jerome was in good hands either way as well.

Of course, that nice smile fell quickly again when you told Jerome the fact that you had to leave, that you had to return to your own home for now to make sure your family wasn't too angry at you for suddenly disappearing from the streets like that. He wanted you to stay and when you revealed to Jerome that he would get to stay at your safe house – you told him it's your apartment instead – he asked you to at least come along to show him everything yourself. But you knew if you kept doing that, agreeing to everything, you wouldn't get home anymore at all today, probably sleeping on the floor of your safe house tonight.

Why does your cold make you compare the poor ginger to DOGS of all possible animals?! Couldn't it have been birds, like your dad does with you and your siblings?!

Separation Anxiety, at its finest, a Vizsla he really is…big, red…fearing. You really hoped that this Vizsla would grow into something more fierce, still a kind soul deep down – and maybe less deep down – but able to bark AND bite if required.

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