#'come with me and witness my commitment doctor' literally is holding a gun and will actually kill a bitch rn

[fishareglorious]

Rewatching chapter 6 and holy shit, Isolde would literally kill a man for Kakania.

Slayyyyyy (multiple men are dead.)

[revlatte]

To be a Negro in this country and to be relatively conscious is to be in a rage almost all the time. – James Baldwin

For a week, I have been sitting with the weight of #GeorgeFloyd. Stunned. Disgusted. Speechless. But unfortunately, not surprised. This is the exact treatment that Blacks have been dealing with since we were stolen loot brought to a stolen land. 

These young people are not out here in the streets just for #GeorgeFloyd. That is the lie of the mainstream media. They are acting like this civil unrest is about only the death of George Floyd. They are finding Black and Brown protesters to talk about how they wish there was no violence. And let’s be clear, the violence is property damage. When our Black bodies were brutalized and are still being brutalized, no one was in arms about the violence to people and assaults on our humanity and dignity. But, property… 

My partner and I found ourselves in Baltimore City last night. We went with the intention of picking up a leather reclining chair for our new house. Quickly, after entering the City, we realized we were in the police state. Helicopters circled around. Immediately, we witnessed police on motorcycles. Streets were being shut down by large trucks and government vehicles. We had been moving all day. I wanted a crabcake. As we parked our car at the Harbor, my partner looked at me. “A crabcake and $20…” We were both aware of the heightened police presence and the fact that “this is how they get you.” Did we look suspicious to police?

No, we are not JUST out there for #GeorgeFloyd.

I am out there with these young people because I have been in the school-to-prison pipeline. I have been incarcerated because of white lies from a white woman named Amy. I am out there with these young people because I am compelled, by my faith, and convicted in my soul to show up. I am called to public ministry, prophetic witness, and public engagement. I must be with my people. 

I am out there to bring awareness not just for #GeorgeFloyd but also #JerryWilliams #BreonnaTaylor #TonyMcDade and all of the other lives that will be snuffed out by police and rendered to a hashtag. 

I am out there because teachers villanized and criminalized me in the Harford County Public Schools. White teachers, principals, and administrators. I am out there for the time that I was forced to learn in a closet. I am out there because white teachers continued to separate, denigrate, and criminalize me. 

I am out there for the day when the police were called on me at Bel Air Middle School for “assaulting” a classmate. My classmate, Lauren McDonald, had her books stripped (knocked out of her arms) by someone else. I was simply helping her pick them up. A white teacher said I assaulted her. She called the white principal. The white principal immediately suspended me then later called the police. Both Lauren and I said the white teacher lied (Lauren is white). This continued, the police were involved, and finally things were dropped after personal visits to the McDonald family. 

I am out there because I witnessed, last night, police shooting rubber bullets, pepper spray, and throwing smoke grenades into crowds of peaceful protesters. 

I am out there for a boy I went to school with named Robert Venable. He was tortured by white teachers, ridiculed by classmates, and killed by the overwhelming weight of white supremacy via suicide. 

I am out there because less than a month ago, thousands of white folks, with armed weapons, disobeyed stay-at-home orders, infecting countless, and they were met with no violence from police. They were allowed to protest. With guns. And anger. Their white anger was not criminalized. I witness Black kids on the streets with enraged fists and signs, after another senseless murder, be tear gased. 

I am out there for a classmate Mark who killed himself in high school just fed up with whiteness. I remember talking to him the day before his suicide. Being Black and quirky was too hard. It was too much to bear. I remember him talking about there being no reprieve and preparing for life like this. I felt him. Ans it was too hard. 

I am out there for the times that I watched my father be called Boy and talked down too in front of his family. 

I am out there for other family members who serve in white organizations and are talked too like they are inferior and less than human. 

I am out there for the white woman with a doctorate in social justice education who called me a Nigger on the job. 

I am out there because my parents’ neighbor was Mr. Larry, the Grand Marshall of the local klan. He was mean, vicious, allowed his dogs to bite Black kids, and was just hateful. The last time I played with a friend in my backyard, it was because Mr. Larry was having a cookout and bragged about how it’d be a perfect night to see things hanging from trees. 

I am out there because the Harford County Public School system, filled with bad white actors, treated me like a dangerous criminal. I had to be up at 5a every day to get to school for morning detention. My homeroom was the office. I was on a “behavior contract.” If I did not score enough points, I had to face consequences. I was on hallway restriction. So I literally could not walk in the hallways with other people. I had lunch detention. After school detention. In school suspension. Out of school suspension. Janitor duty. And Saturday Morning Assistance Program (Saturday detention). By the way, all of this was “pre-emptive” so when I did “get in trouble” they would start with deducting from my “time served.” This is why I am out in the streets. 

I am out there because a white woman beat on me for months in undergrad then lied. She lied on friends who she enticed into sex while drunk and high. When she sobered up, she, a white girl, called the police on my Black male friends saying they raped her. This was not true. When I asked her why she did it, she said… she was ashamed and didn’t know what to tell her mother. These men were brought to the police station, questioned. It was a mess. And she lied. About Black men gang raping her, because she was ashamed. 

I am out there for the white woman named Amy who lied about me to have me arrested. She put hands on me and my mother, on Mother’s Day. She was drunk and high. She ripped the literally shirt of my back. Blood coming from my arms. Permanently damaged my mother’s car doors. The police arrived and asked if we wanted to press charges. NO, my mother and I both responded. We don’t believe in police. Imagine the surprise when I was arrested for assaulting this white woman. This literally never happened. There were eye witnesses, police present, an OnStar tape. But I sat in jail. I was held without bond. No previous criminal record. This white woman named Amy then called the jail and said “I was a threat.” I was taken to solitary confinement and not given food or water for 5 days. That’s why I’m out on these streets. 

I am out there because this same white woman, Amy, (legit her name), filled fake charges against me and my brother after she was assaulted. She said, in no unclear terms, it was us. The eyewitness reports said it was two, tall, skinny, Black men… with dark skin. When they came to arrest us, we had video surveillance to show where we were, security footage, store security footage, witnesses…. It did not matter. They filled my brother’s home in West Baltimore to “capture” us. They refused to look at the evidence, though we literally had it pilled up in folders in the living room. There was over 15 officers at the house that day, including the Sergeant. The Sergeant promised us that if they found out this white woman, Amy, was lying (again), she would be held responsible. I sat in jail, for weeks, awaiting my release for crimes I literally did not commit. The white Amy was never held responsible. 

I am out there because I could not breathe while in jail because of lies from a white woman named Amy. They messed up my medication and would not listen to me. I sat there, with a “cardiac emergency,” and waited as the COs figured out what to do… the Goon squad came in. Paramedics had to be called to the jail. Though I was in severe cardiac emergency, they had to put over 30 pounds of chains all over and around me. I was shackled to the stretched while the paramedics continued to impress upon the jail the importance of me getting medical attention. At that moment, all I could think about was my Momma having to watch me die on jail footage. 

I am out there for the young man I witnessed, a young Black boy, beaten by a mob of Trump supporters in North Carolina. As he walked away, trying to escape the mob, he was arrested. Why in the world was he arrested? My partner and I went to inquire and provide context. The police and secret service had it wrong. We crossed the line, according to the officers. Before I knew it, they had thrust me on the ground so hard it knocked the wind out of me. I was no threat. I had no weapon. I was simply asking why they were arresting this man who was obviously the victim. We were held. They pounced on me. I remember thinking, it that moment, how difficult it was to breathe in that position. 

I am out there for the family of Jerry Williams who will never get justice from the city of Asheville and the Asheville Police Department. 

I am out there for my cousin who is now an Ancestor that was hunted like a dog, boxed in by an illegal police trap, and fled the guns of white supremacy leaping to his death. I am out there for Bronson. 

I am out there for the bodies that my family remembers seeing hanging on trees growing up in the South. 

I am out there for the lying white folks that say they are “allies” and “praying” and “holding this in their hearts” while actively assassinating the character and opportunities of Black and Brown people behind closed doors. I am out there for the white ministers “dismantling white supremacy” publicly and privately destroying the lives of Black and Brown people with toxic whisper campaigns. I am out there for my family who have died in wars they should not have been fighting to protect white freedom and property. 

I am out there because I can no longer stomach the injustice. A white woman, on probation for attempted murder, was high, and assaulted me. She, while on security footage and high, dragged me with her car while holding the collar of my hoodie. Though there were eye witnesses, security footage, and everything you could think of... she was found not guilty. That night, before she dragged me, she told me she would get off. She told me she would lie to the police and commissioners. She told me all she had to do was start crying and say she was afraid. Then she “acted it out” to show me how quickly she could cry, on the spot, to have my freedom revoked. She told me she knew she could do this to me in Baltimore City because a jury would never convict her, a white woman, of a crime against me, a Nigger. She is also the mother of two Black children and a Black grandchild. And, she was right. No justice served. And my face wears the memory of this as a permanent scar.

I am out there because enough is enough. 

I don’t care if they burn Wells Fargo. How dare someone talk about “property damage” and not realize the collateral consequences of oppression. Black people forced to live in the cities are not receiving bailouts. No, that’s corporations like Wells Fargo with the hundreds of millions they’ve been receiving. Wells Fargo in these communities is a reminder of what we’ll never be… 

I am out there because I cannot, with integrity, be a minister compelled to live the gospel… as Paul said, to be worthy of the gospel… and not be with my people. “Remember the poor…”

I am out there for all the Black women and queer folks who are murdered by police… whose stories and lives remain invisibilized and suppressed… even in their dying. 

I am out there, in the streets of Baltimore, because a white woman called the police and hospital security on me after a psychiatric crisis. They held me against my will, had the nurses drug me (sedate me… also against my will) and took me away while my father listened and was on the phone with the hospital advocate. That day, they threw my body into the back of that transport vehicle. Didn’t shut the door. Started driving off. I was cuffed. In the hospital. They finally stopped the vehicle when others  alerted them to the door being open. The older white officer, in response to my pleas for help, let me know: “Today, all the white officers who killed Freddie Gray got off.” My life was in the hands of this man. Who then later forced to me strip naked before entering the ward. Which I knew was against my rights. I am out there for their hatred. I am out there because I cannot rest any longer. We cannot continue being complicit in the system. 

It’s not just about the Police State, State Violence, the school-to-prison pipeline, or mass incarceration. It is about all of it. All. Of. It. 

We are out there because of all of the white people who have witnessed, who know, and still …. do…. nothing. These were the people on the perimeters of the lynch mobs. Shaking their heads. Going back to their churches. And continuing with business as usual.

These protests are about being completely fed up, exhausted, with the weight of white supremacy everywhere. Snuffing out our lives. We are out there because we could fill libraries with individual accounts with police officers, white teachers, white employers… white everything… that sees us as less than human and disposable. We are out in the streets and causing “riots” and “property damage” but over just one death but for the millions of bodies murdered in the name of this “Democracy.” For the genocide that is currently happening on this land. For the systemic and institutional injustice. We were “sick and tired” five decades ago… This cannot continue. 

And Black people have been so patient. We have sat with whites in conversations as beloveds… we have been in healing circles… we have held space for white fragility and growth… we have used non violent communication… we have done everything to make space for “well-meaning whites” to get involved and create “easier access points and entryways” to justice. We have tried not to overwhelm them and give them too much. We have listened to their confessions and been containers for their white tears. Dismantling white supremacy on their terms while holding on to all the unearned privilege, dollars, property… And heaven forbid if you are angry or irritated… No. Then you are problematic and… guess what? They’re ready to call the police. 

We are beyond the point of tired. 

And before you say, we’re “improper influences.” GUESS WHAT, WHITE SUPREMACIST AMERICA? YOU’RE THE MOTHER…. IMPROMPER INFLUENCE.

We are out there because we can’t sit with the injustice any longer. There will continue to be Black death because that is the goal of the State… to exploit us, use our labor, extract our dollars, get us addicted, throw us in jail, and render our lives insufferable. There will be death… and if we must die… now is the time for fighting back. I am ready for the fire this time.

If we must die, 

let it not be like hogs

Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot,

While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs,

Making their mock at our accursèd lot.

If we must die, 

O let us nobly die,

So that our precious blood may not be shedIn vain; 

then even the monsters we defy

Shall be constrained to honor us though dead

!O kinsmen! we must meet the common foe!

Though far outnumbered let us show us brave,

And for their thousand blows deal one death-blow!

What though before us lies the open grave?

Like men we’ll face the murderous, cowardly pack,

Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!~ Claude McKay

[rainbowspouses]

When Red Met Red

Pairing: Jerome Valeska/Ivy Pepper

Word Count: 5670

@harleyluvjoker12

(I would insert a read more but I’m on mobile)

——

Jerome Valeska and Arkham Asylum fit together almost as well as cats and dogs. They’re always in a constant war with each other; a losing battle, if you will. Arkham has a way of bringing Jerome down. The absence of color. The place is filled with lackluster people delivering poor performances.

There is at least one positive thing that Jerome can think of when it comes to Arkham: Dr. Leslie Thompkins. The night that Jerome was resurrected, and put on one of the greatest performances Gotham City has ever been privileged to witness, he was reluctantly captured by Detective James Gordon. Jerome was attempting to have some fun with the Wayne kid and ultimately his face landed on the ground; literally and figuratively. Good old Jimbo wasted no time, he immediately arrested Jerome and brought him into Arkham. That is where Dr. Thompkins comes in. Much to her annoyance and Jerome’s excitement, the two came face to face once again. She was called in to reattach Jerome’s face, properly this time.

Jerome can honestly say that those thirty minutes was the best thirty minutes he’s ever experienced in this miserable place. He spent it shamelessly flirting with her, reveling in the disgusted faces she would pull as she attempted to ignore his advances. Reluctantly, the fun came to an end once she was finished. A few guards with guns at the ready, causing a wide smirk to spread across Jerome’s face, dragged Jerome into solitary confinement.

Jerome stayed in solitary confinement for a while, three months to be exact, before being allowed to move into a regular room on good behavior. He was pleasantly surprised to find out that not even a month before he was let out of the small, confining space that Dr. Thompkins took up permanent residence at Arkham. Logically, Jerome knows that avoiding Jim Gordon on a daily basis is her primary reason for returning back to Arkham, but that doesn’t stop him from publicly pretending he is the reason she returned to work here. The idea pleasantly strokes his massive ego extensively. She was the person inmates were sent to in the event of sickness or injuries, so you guessed it, Jerome came up with various ailments just to see her.

It’s not Jerome’s fault. A part of it was to have any excuse to see her, but for the most part it was an excuse for any amount of human contact. Despite his previous ruling of good behavior, he was denied access to be around other inmates. That lasted for about five months and the moment he walked into the cafeteria, escorted by guards, he realized exactly why the Arkham officials were so desperate to keep him away from everyone else. He was met by an overwhelming display of appreciation; cheers, whistles, and praises were abound as he was escorted inside. It appears that the official’s efforts to keep Jerome from being idolized by isolating him has failed miserably. What did they expect? Most of Jerome’s cult following was brought in the same night he was. The difference is that they weren’t isolated like he was. They’ve had months to talk Jerome up. Not that they have had to, the inmates were aware of Jerome’s resurrection and the crimes he committed.

Jerome finally knows how Richard Sionis felt during Jerome’s first stint in Arkham. He was the ruler, the intimidator, the man everyone feared and dared to defy. Looking around at the display in front of him, Jerome knows that the title officially belongs to him. He rules Arkham. This will be enough for now, until he devises a plan to escape.

It has been a month since Jerome has been out of solitary confinement and back into the asylum’s general population, exactly nine months since he has been resurrected and imprisoned. Jerome quickly learned who his favorite inmate was: Jervis Tetch. Teasing Tetch is the highlight of Jerome’s uneventful day. The annoyed glare that settles on his face when he sees Jerome coming brings joy to his features. The excitement that consumes him is almost enough to make him physically combust.

Jerome skips into the rec room whistling. Jervis is sitting on the couch in front of the television and Jerome can see his body physically tense up upon Jerome’s arrival. Maniacal laughter echoes throughout the room as Jerome walks around and plops down beside him on the couch. Jervis inaudibly sneers as he attempts to maintain his focus on the television, refusing to give Jerome the attention he so desperately craves. Obviously, that doesn’t sit well with Jerome.

“Yo, Jervie! How about you pass me that remote? T.V. time is up for you.”

Jervis makes no move to give Jerome the remote, his eyes remain locked on the screen in hopes that Jerome will take a hint and go bother someone else. Who is he kidding? This pesky clown is as annoying as they come. He’s like an incessant pest that just won’t leave; a virus that settles into your body and takes over. The thought causes a frown to settle on his face out of irritation, immediately followed by a low huff escaping his lips as he can feel the ominous pair of green eyes on him. Jerome growls and reaches for the remote once more; his voice is laced with venom.

“I said give me the damn remote. You’ve hogged it enough you couch potato.”

A booming laugh rips its way through Jerome’s throat as he snatches the remote and flips aimlessly through the channels. He smirks at the scowl on Jervis’ face. Jerome’s eyes remain on the television as he speaks.

“Yo, Jervie! Guess who visited me last night. I bet you’ll never in your wildest imagination guess who it was.”

“I have no idea, Jerome. Some nagging presence tells me that I’m going to find out whether I want to know or not.”

“That you are. Would you believe me if I told you that your sweet sister, Alice visited me?”

At the mention of his sister, Jervis’ head snaps towards Jerome. Instantly, he loses his cool and becomes visibly distraught.

“MY SWEET SISTER ALICE WOULD NEVER VISIT THE LIKES OF YOU. THAT SIMPLY JUST IS NOT TRUE!”

Jerome isn’t affected by his shouting. He simply turns to him and giggles, poking his nose with his finger.

“Wow, Jervie. What people say about you is true. You certainly do aggressively rhyme when you’re angry. Oh, that is quite entertaining. I think I’ll start pissing you off every day.”

“IF YOU KNEW WHAT WAS GOOD FOR YOU, YOU’D REALLY BETTER NOT. I’LL PUT YOU SIX FEET UNDER, WHERE YOU WILL INEVITABY ROT!”

“You did it again. Oh this is rich.”

Jervis huffs and attempts to calm himself down. That is hard when a maniacal teen is laughing uncontrollably at your expense. Before he has the chance to retaliate against Jerome once more, the sound of a beep and the door behind them to the rec room unlocking has them instantly quieting down and turning their attention towards the source of the sound. Jerome’s face instantly brightens and he jumps up from the couch.

“Jimbo! What a pleasant surprise! I thought you had forgotten about me. Ya busting me out of here or what?”

“Hush it, Jerome! I’m here for Jervis.”

Jerome and Jervis instantly lock eyes with each other before the both of them fix Jim with very different stares. Jerome’s is malicious while Jervis’ is confusion. Jim walks over and takes Jervis by the arm and turns him around, cuffing his arms behind his back.

“This is for your protection and mine.”

He walks Jervis towards the door with Jerome hot on his tails. Jim releases Jervis and pulls his gun out, aiming it at Jerome. Jerome raises his hands and backs away on instinct, plopping back down on the couch.

“Very intimidating of you, Jimbo. I’m just curious what you want with him. I’m much more fun. We both know that.”

Jim mockingly chuckles as he puts his gun back in its holster. Jerome says he isn’t intimidated, but with how fast he took off Jim would definitely say otherwise.

“It’s none of your business what I’m doing with him. You don’t need to know and you will not find out. You are right where you belong, Jerome.”

Jerome huffs and feigns happiness as though he is not thoroughly irritated with this new development. Just like that, Jim and Jervis are gone and Jerome is extremely frustrated about that. What will he do for entertainment now?

He’s left with his thoughts and he finds that annoys him more than anything. His mind is a constant storm. For the most part, he attempts to live in a colorful fantasy land. He will imagine happiness and child-like wonderment to the point of exhaustion on most occasions. He has trouble sleeping most times because the wheels in his brain are excessively turning in a repetitive loop. No matter what he does, it never stops. He forces himself to sit and watch mind-numbing television, in hopes that will dissipate the all intrusive thoughts, but to no avail. He finds himself becoming increasingly agitated and pissed off as he thinks about the useless members of his cult on the outside. The idiots that somehow evaded arrest that night, despite the fact that he was apprehended. The more he thinks about it, the less sense it makes to him. It has been nine months and he is no closer to escaping the hell that is Arkham asylum.

Not even two weeks later, Jerome is busting out of Arkham. He skips around, his cackling filling the near-desolate halls as he fires off round after round. His cult finally came through for him, maybe he won’t kill them after all. Turns out they can be quite useful. Jerome rounds the corner with most of his cult following behind him as they make their way towards the exit; towards their freedom. Jerome passes by the exam room and sees one of his followers holding Lee at gunpoint. He can’t explain what it is about her, but he has a major soft spot for the doctor. He automatically sneers and makes his way inside to deter the situation. Without muttering a word, he shoots the idiot at point-blank range and turns to Lee as he falls to the ground.

“Ya owe me one, gorgeous!”

He leaves her tied up and giggles as he leaves the room, leading the rest of his cult out of Arkham, disappearing into the night. Jerome needs time to find a hideout and come up with a fool-proof plan. Organization is key and he realizes that now. If he really wants to take over and rule Gotham City, he needs to do it properly. He needs to make sure that he takes into account any little problem that may arise and have backup plans in case of these issues. He refuses to find himself back in Arkham.

It has been three weeks since Jerome Valeska caused mass chaos by escaping Arkham Asylum. While not a single soul has heard or seen the man physically, he has taken over the news coverage since his violent escape. False reports of sightings have bombarded Gotham news and the GCPD, nothing has come of said reports. Jerome has become a ghost, which worries Jim. This isn’t like Jerome. Jim fears that he is planning something drastic, something that Gotham is and never will be prepared to take on.

The last few months for Ivy Pepper has been rather confusing. Months ago, she found a man washed up and nursed him back to health. He had been shot and it took him a while to regain consciousness. That man was Oswald Cobblepot, the mayor of Gotham City. Shortly after he woke up, they ran into some problems that resulted in an alliance of sorts to form. The reason for such an alliance was to help Penguin get revenge against his attacker, Edward Nygma; now known to Gotham City as The Riddler. Penguin found that laughable and would constantly make jokes at The Riddler’s expense, but Ivy could see it. Penguin still harbored deep-rooted feelings for the man. Ivy should have cut ties and ended her involvement with this whole charade, maybe people wouldn’t have died. It was her idea to bring everyone together to fight against The Riddler, Barbara Queen, Tabitha Galavan, and Butch Gilzean.

The impending war caused two deaths, one on each opposing side. Those two deaths can only be blamed on Ivy for suggesting such an idea. At least she harbors the guilt herself. Bridgit Pike and Tabitha Galavan died before the fight came to an end. Due to Tabitha’s death, Barbara and Butch instantaneously turned on The Riddler, which caused Oswald to come to his aid; essentially proving Ivy’s suspicions that Oswald was still in love with Nygma. What she didn’t expect was for Nygma to reciprocate those feelings.

Those tragic events occurred five long months ago, The Penguin is once again the Mayor of Gotham City and The Riddler is his chief of staff. Barbara and Butch have formed an unlikely alliance and have decided to take on The Court of Owls. Ivy hasn’t heard from Selina or Bruce in months, but she can’t say that she has been alone. At least for the last three weeks, that statement is definitely true.

After the fight concluded, everybody went their separate ways. Ivy returned back to the abandoned estate where she nursed Oswald back to health. The place unwittingly became her new home. Three weeks ago, she was happily humming to herself as she cared for her plants when she heard a crashing noise coming from the west wing of the inside of the house. Her face scrunched up in confusion as she quietly placed her watering pot on the ground before slowly heading towards the door of the green room adjacent to the house.

As she opens the door, she screams and attempts to shut it back as she is met with a man with paint covering his face. He smiles and laughs as he pushes his way through, prompting Ivy to move away from the door and grab a garden tool in defense. She keeps an eye on the man as he smirks and looks over his shoulder, hollering towards the house.

“Boss, I stumbled across a dainty little thing you might want to see.”

Ivy scoffs and purses her lips at the man, never taking her eyes off him. She hears someone approaching and tries not to let the fear take over when she sees who that someone is. None other than Jerome Valeska. She gasps, much to his excitement. She eyes him curiously as he stares at her like she is a piece of meat that he can just devour.

“Well, Well! What do we have here?”

Jerome circles her and she cowers slightly on instinct as she watches him. She raises her brows and purses her lips tighter than before once he comes back into her line of eyesight. His hands are wrapped behind his back and he stops directly in front of her. He bends down, he is a bit taller than she is, and stares her up and down. His eye catches sight of the garden tool gripped tightly in her hand. He glances up and meets her eyes, chuckling slightly. He snatches the tool from her hands and she gulps audibly. He waves the tool in front of her face, fear swimming in her blue orbs.

“What exactly were you planning on doing with this, doll face?”

“Ew, don’t call me that.”

“What’s the matter, sweetness? A gorgeous girl like you couldn’t possibly despise being complimented. Isn’t that right, doll face?”

“Quit calling me names like that. It’s creepy. You’re creepy. Besides, you can’t just barge in here. I live here.”

“Hmmm, correction doll. We all live in this humble abode now. Ya know? I think I’ll keep you around. You have some spunk. I like it.”

“STOP!”

Ivy cringes and makes to move past him. His eyes staring deeply into her own with such mirth and mischief alone has her feeling goosebumps. She gasps and yelps as he grabs her upper arm in a death grip and yanks her back to him with force. She stares at him defiantly, watching him swipe his tongue along his bottom lip.

“I’m doing you a favor by allowing you to live here. You will follow my rules or there will be dire consequences. So, tell me doll, what’s your name?”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes, yanking her arm free from his grasp. She fixes her waves before straightening out her black, brown, and blue speckled camisole dress. She feels his eyes on her as she glances back up at him. The crazed look in his eyes suffocates her. She clears her throat and tucks her hair behind her left ear before answering him.

“Ivy. My name is Ivy Pepper.”

That was three weeks ago, a lot has changed since then. The first week, Ivy did everything in her power to avoid Jerome. As time went along, she found herself falling under his spell. That goes without saying that he has fallen under her spell as well. She won’t deny that she has used her intoxicating perfume on him, once or twice, maybe even thirty times, more or less.

She can’t pretend that Jerome didn’t have an effect on her three weeks ago. He’s an intoxicating individual. Aside from his obvious devilishly handsome good looks that one would immediately take notice of, his personality is quite puzzling. He’s charming, entertaining, funny, and enigmatic. She quickly noticed how smart he is. He is a genius. She may or may not have used her perfume to sit in his office with him as he made plans to take over Gotham. Such intricate plans that nobody but she has seen. Something about that makes her giddy. He’s also brash, obnoxious, egotistical, and rather heartless.

She quickly discovered that she had the power to change the parts of him she wasn’t too fond of, almost like he was her experiment. Of course, the effects never lasted; but despite that, she easily found herself falling for him. She tried to harbor her feelings for him, but it was hard when he would stare at her hungrily.

Ivy found that she most enjoyed their times in his office, locked away from everybody else. He was forcibly under her spell and she was falling deeper and deeper under his without much effort on his part. They found that they talked about anything and everything, good and bad, all over the spectrum. Their conversations ranged from simple to complex. Soon, she discovered that she no longer had to use her perfume on him when the spell broke one evening. One moment he was compliant and eager, then the next he was shaking his head and staring at her in confusion. Usually, she would make sure to have him in bed to sleep it off, but apparently if you use it enough on one person they build up an immunity to it. Whoops! She stares at him wide eyed as he fixates her with a glare.

“What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you in here?”

“You invited me silly. Don’t you remember? We hang out every night. I keep you company as you create your plans for world domination, as you like to call it.”

She bites her bottom lip in hopes that he doesn’t kick her out and to her surprise, he nonchalantly shrugs and picks up where he left off. That was that. After that moment, everything changed. Their connection grew as time went along. The night Ivy feared finally came after a few months, Jerome was ready to take on Gotham. Jerome sensed her worry and rested his hand on her cheek. Ivy refused to stare him in the eye as his thumb swiped under her eye.

“I’ll be back. You trust me, don’t ya doll?”

Ivy continues to avoid his gaze. He’s not coming back and she knows it. She wasn’t born yesterday. She chooses to say nothing. She doesn’t want him upset as he goes on his little spree. It would be a distraction that could mean life or death, freedom or imprisonment. Jerome hooks his finger under her chin and swipes his thumb along her bottom lip. Her sharp intake of breath is essentially cut off as he moves forward and presses his lips to hers. He tries to convey his intentions of returning to her once he is done tonight without having to express himself in words. His mouth moves against hers in a tantalizingly, passionate kiss. She moans softly and wraps her hand around the back of his neck. Ivy runs her fingers through the hairs at the nape of his neck and kisses him back just as eagerly. He pulls away far too soon for her liking, leaving her pouting. She huffs and crosses her arms over her chest, eliciting a laugh from Jerome. He presses a kiss to her lips before turning to leave.

“I’ll see ya tonight.”

“See you tonight.”

She smiles faintly as she watches him leave, certain that she most certainly will never see him again. Oh, how wrong Ivy was. Hours had passed and she decided to go to bed out of boredom. This was the first time in four months that she has been alone. Ivy brushes her teeth and hair after washing her face. Her fingertips ghost over where his mouth was earlier. The first and likely last kiss they’ll ever share. It’s bittersweet. She holds on to some semblance of optimism that he isn’t lying.

Ivy walks into her bedroom after turning off the bathroom light and slips into a matching midnight blue bra and panty set. She might end up sleeping with the criminally insane clown tonight and she might not, but it’s always better to be prepared. Especially if it’s your first time sleeping with anyone. Ivy crawls into bed and drifts off to sleep to the dark silence around her. Ivy awakens a couple of hours later to the sound of laughter, his laughter. She decides to stay in bed to see what Jerome does, where Jerome goes. Excitement courses through her veins as she hears her bedroom door open and Jerome quietly shuffle in. Jerome watches Ivy carefully. She’s definitely asleep and he doesn’t want to wake her. He timidly strips down to his boxers and carefully pulls the covers back. He’s sure she won’t mind him sleeping beside her. She was worried he wouldn’t return after all, that must mean something. He chuckles at the sight he is met with.

“Ivy, are you awake, doll face? Did you put this skimpy little outfit on just for me?”

“Maybe.”

Ivy giggles and turns to him. He crawls in beside her and tucks her hair behind her ear. She smiles at him and bites her bottom lip.

“You came back.”

“Didn’t I say I would?”

“Well, yes you did. I just assumed you were saying it to get away from me.”

“Now, what on earth would make you think I wouldn’t want to come home to this?”

Jerome presses his lips to hers and pulls her close. She gets lost in the lust of it all, but it isn’t long before her nervousness returns conveniently as he is removing her panties. Without even thinking, she blurts out that she is a virgin. Jerome halts his movements and removes his hands as her hands cover her face out of embarrassment. He gently removes her hands and kisses the tops of them.

“It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything.”

“But I want to. I don’t know why I blurted that out. Nerves, I guess. But, I swear I want to.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Jerome. I’m positive. Just take it slow.”

Jerome nods his head in understanding and proceeds to make love to her. That is how it starts. Jerome and Ivy become inseparable after that. He goes out and commits crimes ranging from petty to violent, then returns to the hideout and fucks Ivy. Jerome’s living the dream; but after a few months, Ivy begins to question it. All they ever do is have sex; the sex is incredible, but Ivy wants more. She fears that Jerome won’t give her what she wants, what she needs from him. Ivy doesn’t want to be his play thing.

Three months after their illicit affair began, she musters up the courage and decides to finally express her concerns to him. Jerome has a temper. Anyone who has been around him knows that fact, but she doubts he’ll put his hands on her. Jerome has quickly become a rising star in the criminal underworld of Gotham and he’s currently having a meeting. Ivy certainly won’t interrupt that. She steps outside and takes a walk. Autumn is one of her favorite seasons. The leaves, the colors. Autumn also allows her the opportunity to take special care with her plants. She’s always been one with nature and the fresh air would do her good. She returns a few hours later just as the men are leaving the house. This is it, the moment of truth.

Ivy taps lightly on Jerome’s office door before entering. She moves to stand behind him and massages his shoulders. Upon feeling the tension in the muscles, she presses kisses down his neck. He lets out a content sigh.

“Hi, doll.”

“Hey Jerome. Could we talk?”

“Talk? About what?”

“You know…About us?”

“What is there to talk about, Ivy?”

“What are we?”

Jerome huffs and stands up. His eyes squint as he stares at her in an attempt to read her body language. He paces the room and appears lost in thought. He didn’t expect that question. They fuck, they have a great time together. Why do they have to put unnecessary labels on it? Jerome’s back is to her and he plasters a smile on his face before turning and approaching her. He wraps his arms around her.

“You’re my girl. That’s all you need to know.”

Ivy smiles and captures his mouth in a tender kiss. Jerome quickly escalates it, pulling her hand roughly by the small of her back. He groans into her mouth as he bites down on her bottom lip, tugging on it harshly. Ivy moans and grabs onto his shoulders as he releases her lip.

“You’re my girl, Ivy. I’ll prove it to ya.”

Jerome pulls her sweater over her body, momentarily taking in the black lace bra underneath. He unbuttons her jean capris and yanks them down her long legs, revealing matching black panties. Ivy Pepper is a fucking sin. She quickly disposes him of his clothes. He smirks at her eagerness and picks her up by her waist. He giggles as he trails kisses down her beautiful pale throat. The soft mewls falling from her lips as she rests her fingers in his ginger hair encourages him. He feverishly backs her into the wall, eliciting a groan from her. He bites down on her neck right by her pulse point and sucks a hickey into the flesh.

“Jerome, please!”

Ivy’s eyes close tight and she tugs on his hair. A smirk takes over his face as he laves his tongue over the purplish-red bruise he just created. The possessive mark on Ivy’s pristine skin. Jerome slips a finger inside her panties and runs it along her cunt to see if she is ready for him. She gasps at his touch bur he quickly retracts the finger. He pushes her panties to the side and lines his cock up with her entrance. He bites down on her collarbone as he pushes inside her without much resistance. Her grip on his shoulders tightens as he thrusts inside her wet cunt fast and rough. Animalistic grunts are pouring out of Jerome but they are muffled by his mouth on her collarbone.

“Yes! Jerome, fuck! God, please!”

“Ya like that, doll? Does it feel good? Like daddy’s cock fucking your tight little pussy, hmmm?”

Ivy chokes on a sob. She can’t even form a coherent thought at this point. That is until his thrusts stop and he removes himself from her, leaving her frowning and feeling empty. Giggles escape her as he lifts her off the wall and lays her out on his desk. Jerome glances down at her and spreads her legs open, settling in between them. Ivy bites her lip in anticipation and he growls, smacking the inside of her thigh hard enough to leave a burning red welt in its wake. She yelps and bites down on her index finger as his fingers hook into her panties. On instinct, she lifts her hips as he pulls them down her legs and tosses them aside. Ivy watches as Jerome drops down to his knees and grabs her legs, settling them on his shoulders. He grabs her by her hips and yanks her body towards his face. He licks his lips and glances up at her before pressing the flat of his tongue on her wet folds.

Ivy whines as he expertly licks from her entrance up to her clit and suckles on the bundle of nerves. Ivy thrashes around and attempts to move her hips, but Jerome is unfortunately holding her down to keep her from moving against his mouth. Instead, her hands latch into his sweaty ginger locks as he eats her out vigorously. Ivy is a whining mess and desperately wants to fuck herself on his face.

“Jerome please, I need to…please.”

He chuckles into her cunt, the vibrations causing her to shout as she gets closer to the edge. Jerome can feel her pussy pulsating against his mouth as his hands move from her hips to her thighs. Immediately, she moves her hips against his mouth chasing her release.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum. I can’t wait. I need to now. Please, can I? Please!”

Jerome continues to eat her out as he nods, his nose rubbing perfectly against her clit. She comes with a shout, rutting against Jerome’s mouth as she tightens around his tongue. She fucks his face through her orgasm desperately, her thighs clamping around his head and her fingers yanking on his hair. Jerome eats her out through it as wave after wave of pleasure flows through her. He makes sure to swallow every last drop of her delicious juices. His teeth capture one of her swollen lips as she finishes and he growls as he releases it, pulling off her cunt with a pop.

She’s flushed and sated as she pants harshly. Jerome chuckles as he strokes himself while looking down at her. He cups her breast through the fabric of her bra causing her to whine as the lace rubs over her nipple.

“Daddy’s not done with you, Ivy. Want you to ride me, doll.”

He sits down on the chair and strokes himself lazily as he waits for her. She sits up on the desk and stares at him as he touches himself, biting down on her bottom lip.

“Ivy, it’s not going to fuck itself. Come on!”

She giggles and hops off the desk. She places a knee on either side of his legs as she unclasps her bra and throws it to the side. Instantly, Jerome’s mouth is on her nipple and massages the other with his hand. He sucks on the sensitive bud as he rolls the other one between his fingers as they harden. She moans and strokes his cock before slowly seating herself on it. Jerome is big and even though he filled her sopping wet cunt just moments ago, she still takes her time. Jerome cries out as he fills her up inch by inch and bites down on her nipple. She cries from the stimulation.

Ivy kisses him as she raises up and drops back down on his cock. She soon sets up a fast pace, fucking herself hard on him. Her hands find purchase on his shoulders as he watches her bounce on him.

“That’s it! Fuck yourself on my cock. Such a good girl. So fucking good.”

Jerome can’t take it anymore. He needs to be in control. His arm wraps around the small of her back, holding her hips in place as he fucks up into her tight heat. She falls forward and whines into Jerome’s neck. The closer he gets, the harder he fucks up into her. Without warning, his thrusts get sloppy and he’s coming. Load after load of his hot cum spurts inside her inviting cunt as she clamps down around him, experiencing her second orgasm. They fuck each other desperately through their orgasms, grunts and moans leaving their mouths.

As they come down from their highs, heavy pants leaving their lips as they breathe harshly into each other’s mouths. Ivy smiles as she raises herself off of him slowly before sitting back down in his lap, mouthing lazy kisses against his flushed chest and neck. His finger hooks under her chin and pulls her up to gaze into his eyes.

“You’re my girl, Ivy. Don’t ever doubt that. Where there is a king, there is a queen.”

Ivy giggles and leans into him, cuddling him and tracing circles into his chest. Jerome Valeska is many things. A sadistic, homicidal maniac with psychotic tendencies is definitely one of them. Jerome Valeska is also the man Ivy Pepper finds comfort in, the man she can trust, the man that cares for her and loves her. Ivy cares for him and loves him just as much. In a world that passed them off as freaks, they have found their home and their place in this world in each other. Ivy will never forget the day when red met red.