#Roman Sionis

[incorrectbatfam]

Black Mask: Any last words?

Jason: I miss Macaulay Culkin.

Dick: Tell Oracle I love her.

Jason: Sure, make me look like an asshole.

[tsuyakiku]

FIRE🔥

[frownyalfred]

imagine being Red Hood and pulling up to Roman Sionis’ club to settle your beef with Black Mask and not only is your adoptive father already there, he’s in his civilian identity and keeps “accidentally” stepping in front of Sionis and preventing you from shooting him and you have to pretend you don’t know each other meanwhile said adoptive father is wearing no shirt and is completely lathered in body glitter

[rockingthegraveyard]

I think Jason, Harvey and Roman should have a series together.

They would only make each other worse and I would like to see it.

[spooky-donut-ghost-house]

GODDDDD I JUST HAD A THOUGHT

Arkham Knight AU were everything is the same except The Arkham Knight isn't Jason

It's Stephanie

Because unlike Jason Stephanie was actually left to die by Bruce

The line "How long did you wait before replacing me? A month? A week?! I trusted you! And you left me to die!" is so much more tragic coming from Steph because unlike Jason it's true

Bruce didn't want to replace Jason Tim just kinda forced himself into Bruce's life whereas he only made Steph Robin to piss off Tim and didn't even bother saving her from Black Mask and didn't even respect her enough to take off his mask as she died

Her being The Arkham Knight would fit so well

[kotalketz]

WE ARE SO (TENTAVELY) BACK

[geekthefreakout]

Gotham War was rough, but I kind of love Black Mask and Two-Face talking about Jason here. Black Mask, naturally, hates Jason and wishes him nothing but harm... but Uncle Harv is out here saying "He's a good boy deep down!"

[twalxx]

more requests from ig

[lightamp]

rosenberg is feeding me harvey & jason again

[feartoxinjelloshot]

The Black Mask was both with the name Roman, to Charles and Ruby Sionis, the wealthy proprietors of a cosmetics business empire based in Gotham City.

By all accounts he was a normal toddler. He was weaned off of milk and sent to preschool and potty-trained and all of the other things small children were bound to do. He was a quiet, polite, intelligent little boy who did his parents proud - they had been trying for a child for a long time, someone to inherit the business when they passed on. They made sure tiny Roman was aware of his importance early on. What better way to make a child feel special, feel loved? They were going to trust him with everything. He was going to be just fine at it.

The company, really, was Ruby's world. She was a woman, and cosmetics were a feminine empire. Charles - though he held his fair share of business responsibilities - was always more dedicated to his lifelong passion for hunting and taxidermy, which had been instilled in him by long family trips with his own father, out to remote stretches of forest, mountain and grassland to take down all kinds of exotic trophy prizes. When Roman got old enough Charles bravely attempted the same with him, even buying him his first very own gun for his tenth birthday. Roman was shy and hesitant, sometimes to the point of vexing his father with his lack of confidence, but Charles was patient and understanding and slowly coaxed the hunt out of Roman as well. The kid had a real talent for it, when he got over himself enough to calm down and aim. He was a genuine crackshot, and his father bragged about it at every chance, talking him up and ruffling his hair fondly. Those were some of the few times Charles saw his son show him a real smile.

The other side of it was not as comforting.

See, both sides of Roman's family line, in varying quantities and distributions, had always been prone to hereditary psychosis. This particular affliction had miraculously skipped both of his parents, and in a superstitious attempt to ward it away from themselves and their son, they neglected to ever mention it to him. In fact, they made a concentrated attempt to prevent him from ever figuring out what psychosis was in any meaningful way that might affect his development.

Roman grew up surrounded by animals. Sometimes they were whole animals, deer and tigers and caribou; sometimes they were just the head, set into a wooden plate on the wall. Each had a different personality and a different voice. They had been his friends since he was a baby, and he considered them truer confidants than even his parents. They comforted him when he was at his worst, spoke to him in quiet tones that he had learned by that point not to respond to in front of his parents: it's okay, you're okay, champ and you only did what he made you do and but you won't pick that awful gun up again, right?

But he never forgave himself for killing their sisters, the ones in the woods that looked and moved like them, with beating hearts in their chests and big shining eyes that went flat when his father finished them off. He never forgave himself for skinning them with a silver knife and eating their flanks when there was nothing else in the camp at night, because his father said he was proud of him and his chest was cleaved down the middle by a child's sick loyalty.

At a lack of other avenues Roman constructed himself into two faces. The first one was a happy, healthy little human boy who went to school and smiled at his parents and never made eye contact with any of his father's taxidermy or walked around the house at night on soft padding feet. The other one was his true self - an animal, among other animals, whose face looked less like the one in the bathroom mirror and more like a black thing with white eyes, too big to be a wolf and too small to be a bear, that howled its gleeful music up the chimney along with the chorus that lit up the mansion's crowded hallways just before dawn.

And for a while he survived like that: with his mask in the day and his life at night, not content but not wholly unhappy either.

But he had done his job well. He had done his job so well that his parents, through a combination of their own prideful ignorance and Roman's genuine deception of them, had not noticed that anything at all was wrong with their son. He passed his classes and didn't make trouble and spoke of his friends on occasion, and went hunting with his father every summer, and he was fine. They were all fine.

So on his eighteenth birthday they gathered him up and had a party for appearances and said Son, we had you late. We were old then and we're older now. We want to retire. And we love you, and we trust you, and so we're going to give you the company.

And Roman thanked them, gathered every shred of his human mask up to his face, looked at it, realized it wasn't going to be enough to cover himself up, and went deep into the house with his friends and didn't come out.

His parents were devastated. They'd been working so hard for this. The past eighteen years, and they'd been raising him for this. He loved them. They loved him. How could he be unhappy? And throwing a tantrum like a child? What had they raised him for if not this moment?

Roman, in the house, had been busy with the process of taking one of his father's unused taxidermy mounts, a deep dark glossy lacquered thing, and using his hands and a whittling knife to carve it into his real face.

The black mask. The wolf. It came out looking more like a skull, but he figured that it was penance, after all, for all the siblings he had killed. He put it on and was overcome with hysterical calm relief, which was when his parents found the spare key to his rooms and broke in.

Their anger at him for what he had done quickly turned to rage at each other, and the company, and then Roman again, and each other, and through their screaming match and Roman's hysteria and the ceaseless chattering of the animals on the walls, nobody remembered the leftover sconces of candles downstairs until the smoke alarm went off.

To be short: Roman made it out. He was the only one.

Obviously, he was the primary suspect for the fire. They didn't believe that he couldn't have engineered the physical evidence, or that he wasn't lying about where he was at the time. There was nobody else alive from the house to confirm his statement. His face would never be the same again, that much was clear: the detectives and psychiatrists made quick work of the family mental history that he claimed he had never even heard about before that point - fat chance, kid - and by the time he got around to blabbering over his so-called siblings nobody took him seriously at all. They wrote him up. He couldn't be officially accused until the hearing, but it was an open-and-shut case. Poor bastard, but hey, it's Gotham. Shit like this happens every other week.

Roman Sionis never made it to the hearing. He was out of the hospital for three hours before anyone noticed he was gone and his trail stopped cold at the exit doors. In forty-eight hours he had gone from one of the richest teenagers in the city to homeless, penniless, barefoot, and permanently disfigured - the fresh lacquer on his wooden mask had melted in the heat and fused straight onto his face, unless he wanted a complete transplant, skin and all.

Roman didn't. He figured that he had hidden enough. In his abject shock, he was starting to show some of his father's confidence, something he really always had hidden somewhere in the back but had always been pressing himself down too hard to show. He went into the guts of the city and stole a new set of clothes - all black, like the mask. If he was going to do this, he might as well do it in style. He was intelligent, a fast-talker, knew when to be quiet, and he really was still a crackshot, even after all those years. That was shit that could get a man pretty far down where he was.

The police never found Roman Sionis. They found the man who wore his body, sure, but the boy had been gone for a long, long time.

[incorrectbatfam]

There was Margie, and then there was the batfam, what about the rogues with Steph time in retail?

Part 1 with Margie

Part 2 with the batfam

———————

[at the grocery store]

Riddler: Riddle me this: you eat me before I'm born and after I'm dead. What am I?

Steph: Eggs are aisle 3, chickens are aisle 4.

———————

[at the coffee shop]

Ivy: Is the oat milk locally sourced?

Steph: Yes, I don't recommend it.

———————

[at the clothing store]

Scarecrow: *walks in*

Steph: Sorry sir, this isn't a Spirit Halloween yet.

———————

[at the drive-thru]

Steph: Welcome to Batburgers, what can I get you?

Harley: Hiya! Can I do a double cheese batburger deluxe with no onions and extra pickles, and I'll have a side of nacho chili cheese fries with a drizzle of barbecue sauce. I'll also take two Bat-Hound Doggy Bags—one with Robin nuggets, honey mustard, milk, and apples with caramel, and the other with the steak Talon tacos minus the sour cream and with the salsa separate, fruit punch, and the Hush Puppies.

Steph: Anything else?

Harley: Yeah, I'll do the Create Your Own milkshake with vanilla bean, chocolate, strawberry, cookies 'n cream, cherry, black cherry, cotton candy, funfetti with double the fetti, mint chip, salted caramel, peanut butter crunch, brownie bites, extra whipped cream, and gummy bears on top.

Steph: Alright, that'll be $20.37. Please pull up to the next window.

Harley: Before I pay, could you read that back to me?

———————

[at the furniture store]

Steph: Let me guess, you need new cushions.

Clayface, while dripping clay: *nods sadly*

———————

[at the restaurant]

Joker: Give me a good laugh. A hearty chuckle. Serve me up nice, warm smile.

Steph:

———————

[at the call center]

Steph: Wayne Enterprises account support, how can I help you?

Black Mask: *starts threatening every member of the Wayne family*

Steph: Mhm. I understand. Please hold.

Steph: *puts him on hold*

Steph: *clocks out*

Steph: *goes home*

———————

[at home]

Steph: You won't BELIEVE the week I had.

Tim: Remind me again why you work seven jobs simultaneously?

[morgangalaxy43]

DC disrespects and underutilizes Batman's villains constantly and they need to stop relying on the Joker so much (Joker is great but he's used way too much)

[moonlit-imagines]

You’ve Got the Wrong Guy!

Roman Sionis/Victor Zsasz x adoptive!reader

warnings: blood/gore. u know. BOP movie icky stuff

a/n: silly little gif

prompt: @jokekinsjoke505: “Hey I need a new adoptive father's Roman and victor because I think this will be a good idea where either they kidnapped the wrong kid and it ended up with Roman and victor adopted the reader or that one day that the reader walks in while victor is peeling off a face and Roman are eating popcorn watching it happened but they just says ' I'm to tired for this shit' before walking out again and then acted like it never happened.”

“Who does this child belong to?” Asked Roman to his mercenary and dear friend, Victor. In front of him was Victor holding you, a small child, calm in demeanor despite being taken from the comfort of your own home and family.

“Maroni.” Victor replied without a single doubt. “That’s who you told me to grab and I grabbed the kid. Just like you asked. One cool kid if you ask me.” Victor continued, noticing Roman getting visibly upset. “I don’t get it, what’s the problem?”

“That!” Roman shouted, startling you enough to start struggling from Victor’s grasp. He gently set you down as Roman tore him a new one. “That’s the problem, you don’t even see your failure!” You stood behind the bleach-blonde man, trying to understand what was happening, you were just waiting for the ice cream you were promised, you were so hungry. “That’s not Maroni’s kid. I don’t even know who that is? Did you take some random child off the street?”

“I, uh, I don’t know. I could’ve sworn this is the kid.” Zsasz answered.

“I’m hungry.” You quietly mumbled, just loud enough for them to hear you.

“Yeah, I’ll get you something in just a second.” Zsasz assured you, patting your head gently as Roman kneeled down to your height. You flinched and backed up a step, remembering his blind anger from just moments before. “It’s alright, he’s a good guy.”

“Who are you, dear?” Roman asked you in such a kind manner that you completely forgot how scary he was.

“Y/N.” You simply stated.

“Where are your parents, y/n?” Roman questioned further.

“I don’t know…” You sighed. “I didn’t see them for a few days.” Roman looked up to Victor with worry in his eyes, and was surprised to see a smile on his face.

“Can we keep them?” Victor giggled a bit, even more when you grabbed his leg. “Please?”

“Y/N, would you want to stay with us instead of your parents?” Roman had asked you a very heavy question for a young child, but you had no idea what he would really be asking of you. Of course, you didn’t come from a happy life and this already seemed better. You just wanted a sense of belonging.

“Can I get ice cream?” You innocently requested of them.

“Of course, dear! What kind?”

“Uhhh…chocolate!”

“Victor, go get y/n some chocolate ice cream!” He commanded and Victor ran to fulfill your wish. “So, you’ll stay here?” He asked you once more.

“Yeah!” You exclaimed and hugged him around the neck. He felt his heart melt at your embrace and hugged you back, lifting you up to take you with him to the kitchen. “So, who are you?” You asked him.

“I’m Roman. And my partner over there is Victor.” He smiled to himself. In a matter of moments, he’d created a family. One he’d kill for.

Once you were given your bowl of ice cream, you were sold on this new life. Truth be told, you didn’t have the greatest parents. They were absent and neglectful, which was the exact reason Victor found you all alone. It was still unknown why he mistook you for the child of a notorious mobster. Roman had his suspicions that Victor had planned this, but he laid them aside knowing this was good for them. For you all.

The two of them scrambled to make you a room, promising to buy you anything you would ever want when tomorrow rolled around. You were thrilled to be taken in by these two strange men, forgiving both of them in your young, impressionable mind. Roman, for his anger, and Victor, for kidnapping and misleading you.

“Victor.” Roman lowly said after you were tucked in. “I do apologize for raising my voice at you.”

“It’s okay, I understand.” Victor looked down at the table, then felt a hand wrap around his.

“No, I shouldn’t have done it. Especially when you’ve improved our lives so much.” Roman sat beside him. “I don’t even care about that Maroni kid anymore. This is what I care about now. You and y/n.”

“You mean that?” Victor smiled and relaxed his tense body, worried that his mistake would be unforgivable. But Roman always forgave Victor, that was what made them so special. Now they had a new challenge to tackle together: fatherhood.

—————

Years after you’d been adopted by the pair of criminals with high status in the underworld, you’d grown quite accustomed to their behavior. It wasn’t unusual to find Roman frantic or angry, or a bit violent at times. But never toward you, he wouldn’t dare lay a hand on you or raise his voice to you. You could do no wrong.

You could also find Victor coming home from a late night, covered in blood—be it his own from a mark or someone else’s from a job—and being very nonchalant about it. It was always, “y/n! I’m glad you’re up! Would you like some ice cream?” They never left the freezer understocked, even if ice cream wasn’t your favorite anymore.

But there was one “normal” you’d never really get used to, even if you were used to their brutality. Roman was a well-respected crime boss, and to keep that respect intact, he had to do some rather gruesome things.

Well, he didn’t have to. It was a personal choice for him, you could almost consider it a hobby at this point.

You’d been looking for your fathers for going on an hour now, needing some permission slip signed for school. You wandered all their possible routes hoping to catch them across one, asking around to any lackey you managed to catch. No one had an answer for you, so you continued on until you stumbled onto a horrible scene.

One father held a segment of his victim’s hanging skin from their face as they shrieked at the top of their lungs. The sound pierced your eardrums and you winced momentarily. Then you saw the other leaned back in his seat with a bag of popcorn in hand, yelling words of encouragement to Roman, as if he needed them.

“You guys are really something.” Your voice startled them both, so much that you nearly had a gun pulled on you.

“Y/N! You scared us, I’m sorry!” Victor jumped up and ran to give you a comforting hug. “I wouldn’t have shot you, I promise.” You patted him on the back.

“I believe you, Dad.” You mumbled into his shoulder. “Can you just sign this thing real quick? Make sure there isn’t any blood on your hands.” Victor pulled away and wiped his hands on his shirt.

“Of course, of course. Roman, are you almost done with that? We should take our dear y/n out for a nice dinner soon, they deserve it.” Victor explained as he grabbed the pen and paper from your hands.

“Sure, that sounds nice. I should be done in a few minutes. Don’t rush me.” Roman continued dragging the knife under his chained victim’s skin and you shook your head at the sight. By now, this didn’t even faze you, it was just another day in your life. Well, maybe the first few times you had nightmares, but you weren’t a little kid anymore. Now, you could care less what your fathers did for work. So long as they gave you the world and their love, life was good.

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @randomfandomimagine // @summersimmerus // @bad4amficideas // @xoxobabydolls // @evilcr0ne // @amirahiddleston // @sydknee624 // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 //

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Hands off!

The children who wouldn't share their toys are now adults who won't share their henchmen. Specifically the favourite henchman.

Scarecrow: "Don't even think about it. Give them back." Jonathan said coldly, almost glaring at the Riddler. "You're not even using them!" The Riddler rebutted. "The last time I gave you one of mine, you threw a pipe at their head." Jonathan countered, and the Riddler suddenly loudly interrupted. "It was a crowbar, and I threw it at my idiot who just so happened to be next to your idiot and then I beat my idiot to death with said crowbar in front of your idiot! If you're going to act all high and mighty at least get the story right! Besides I won't do that to this one. They've only got their looks..." The Riddler looked you over. "...barely.Its all they can depend on in this world since they don't have a brain." Jonathan turned. "Did your father beat you so much because you couldn't take no for an answer?" He asked dryly. Eyebrows from all directions at this, everyone preparing to run from what could just be hell on earth. "I don't know, Jonathan, did your grandmother abuse you because you're a sociopath?" You held your breath, looking at the nearest exit.

Black Mask: "Pay me, and I'll think about it. Until then, hands off." Roman deadpanned. "As if we'll pay you to sit and consider shit!" Two-Face snapped. "You owe us after our men gave you the numbers for your last little job you did." Harv' added. "I'd hate to think you were being ungrateful." Roman sucked his teeth with a low chuckle, slowly moving towards Two-Face. "Have you forgotten who I am? I ain't gotta be grateful for shit. You're either with me or against me, Harvey. How about you be grateful that I pull the weight in this city and I give you extra wiggle room huh?" Two-Face took out his coin and flipped it before looking for where it landed. "Very well." Harvey replied. "Are they all priced?"It wasn't clear what he was referring to until Roman replied, pointing at you. "That one is. Those ones are not." He gestured to a group of lower ranks thugs. "They'll do." Harvey replied. "Then go right ahead. Consider us even." Roman replied.

Penguin: Roman Sionis came sauntering in, inspecting everyone before his eyes landed on you. He snapped his fingers at you. "You. You'll do." "Not that one." Oswald cut in and Roman slowly turned. "What?" "Pick another one, that one is needed here in the lounge." Oswald replied flatly. "And why is that exactly?" Roman said icily. "Because that one is very good at luring in men like yourself to the lounge. So...pick another." Oswald replied. Roman chuckled after a moment. "I'll give you that, Oswald. They'd be very good at that." Roman's eyes roamed up and down your body behind his black skull mask. When Oswald wasn't looking, Roman beckoned you to him. "Give 'em back, Sionis." "You're a pain in my ass!" Roman ground out in response.

Mad Hatter: "yes, yes, you can borrow one of my rabbits, dear Edward!" Jervis said cheerfully, inspecting one of his mind control hats. As he turned, he noticed the Riddler gesturing to you and Jervis dropped the hat on his seat as he screeched. "NOT THAT ONE!" There was a moment of silence. An uncomfortable stunned silence. Jervis broke it. "I like that one, pick another one." The Riddler couldn't even think of what to say. Jervis picked up his cup of tea, his throat feeling a little scratchy from the sudden scream.

The Riddler: Jonathan had taken you forty five minutes ago claiming the Riddler knew and Jonathan would give you extra money. Now, Jonathan's phone had begun to ring. "Hello?" "GIVE THEM BACK." The Riddler yelled so loud you could hear him on the other side of Jonathan's phone. Impressively or intimidatingly, Jonathan didn't so much as flinch nor did he reply. Edward didn't wait for a response either. "They're mine! Give them back! You didn't even ask!" Horror flooded you and Jonathan smirked. Of course he'd lie to you, even if you would get in the bad books with The Riddler. "My apologies, Edward. We're a little too far away and ... I don't care. I'm busy. Goodbye." "CRANE, I SWEAR-" The Riddler was cut off as Jonathan hung up the phone, looking incredibly smug.

[a-sandquist-art]

My hatter too! I think he's in his core a scrungly little man