#arkham asylum fanfic

[dahliadew]

Little baby man goes to jail (dp x dc fanfic prompt)

Recently I've been seeing a lot of little baby man Danny content, and I love it. But most of it centers around Danny's relationship with either the Wayne family or the justice league, and I've wanted to see other character dynamics.

So I thought that when Danny in little baby man form comes to the DCU, instead of being found by Damian in an alley or something, he takes the time to wander around Gotham—becoming the equivalent of the local homeless cat to the residents. Wandering around where ever he wants with no one knowing who he belongs to or where he came from. And during his wandering, he can get into some bizarre places with the help of his intangibility. And during one of these adventures, Danny finds himself in a really weird place with a LOT of strange people. But hey, there's a lot of ectoplasm and the people seem to need an emotional support cat. And all the while continuing to wander around the rest of Gotham.

His interactions with villains like Solomon Grundy, Mr. Freeze, and Scarecrow would be interesting because different parts of himself would interest each of them. With both himself and Grundy being semi-death beings, his ice powers may interest Freeze, and even though he's in his little baby man form, he still radiates cosmic horror, so Scarecrow is interested. But this could also be the chance to include lesser-known dc villains like calendar man or the Gentleman Ghost. As well as others that he could either meet in Arkham or around the city.

Maybe even running into some of the bats with none of them able to catch him; this, in particular, makes Damian angry and more determined to do so. And when the joker catches wind of the city's new pet, he knows he needs to see it for himself. Danny, for his part, the little chaos gremlin that he is never not going to take the chance to fuck up a clown.

[trixter-god]

Self indulgent Arkham story where we get to find out what exactly happened to Crane.

Like we saw him get nabbed by Croc and then assumed he died until in AC when you find out that Crane somehow survived the being a chew toy. Then in AK we find out this man decided instead of fixing his mauled face to some “normal” he reconfigures his face himself to look like his mask.

TO LOOK LIKE HIS MASK.

Along with the facts he now hobbles/walks slower, he wears a leg brace, the sickly green/white/yellow coloring to his skin.

I want this man’s hospital report, x-rays included, I want before and after full body pics. along with both his and Waylon’s statements and any (if any) eyewitness accounts of watching john probably clawing himself out of the sewers like a zombie. 

Johnathan Lauren Crane (not his real middle name) how you intrigue me so

[frost-queen]

Reversed roles (Reader x Jeremiah Valeska)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

Summary: Reader is Jeremiah's therapist at Arkham. When the roles are reversed it is time for Jeremiah to be in charge and do whatever he likes with you.

“Ah Y/n!” – Jeremiah called out upon seeing you enter the room. You gave him a soft glare as he lowered his enthusiasm. – “Ma’am.”  - he expressed in a deep voice trying to be half funnily. Taking a deep breath you pulled the chair back. Jeremiah came leaning his elbow on the table, resting his knuckles under his chin.

“I’ve missed you doctor.” – he said as you sat down. – “Then you are the first.” – you told him looking for a pen in your pockets. He chuckled with a wide smile. – “Normally people hate therapy.” – you continued taking out a pen. – “I like you doctor.” – he responded all cheeky.

It made you quirk your eyebrow at him. – “This isn’t a playdate Mr. Valeska.” – you reminded him. – “It could be?” – he answered. You looked around the small pale room. – “Very romantic.” – you said sarcastically. Jeremiah leaned back in his chair, moving his hands behind his head. – “We can make it very romantic.” – he suggested glancing down at his own lap.

Almost inviting you over to come over and sit on it. You flashed your eyes down unamused by his attempt. – “Auch doc.” – he outed sounding like a wounded puppy. Exhaling loud you lifted your head back up. – “Shall we begin Mr. Valeska?”

Jeremiah shrugged his shoulders. You clicked your pen with a quick quirk of your brow at his lack of co-operation. – “You keep requesting me here Mr. Valeska. Why if you are not motivated to take on my therapy.” – you said as he snorted loud. – “What you really think talking about my feelings will magically make me sane?” – he laughed it away.

“It could be a start.” – you proposed inviting him to start. Jeremiah lowered his arms, changing his posture in the chair. – “I am more of an actions first type of guy.” – he told you. You hummed intrigued scribbling down as you mumbled out loud enough to him.

“Violent.” – Jeremiah puffed loud at how you were keeping the charade of being his therapy doctor up. It bothered him that you weren’t giving him the attention he wanted from you. There was a reason he kept requesting you for therapy even though he never wanted it.

Manipulating the guards into having a change of heart when it wasn’t the case. They were just foolish enough to buy it. Jeremiah leaned over the table taking your notebook and tossing it behind him. The pages fluttered open before it hit the wall. Dropping down to the floor, some loose pages scattered around.

You leaned a bit to the side to look past him to your notebook. – “You owe me a notebook.” – you spoke. – “You owe me your attention.” – he responded mocking the dull tone in your voice. – “I’m paying you to be here so I get to decide what I do with you.” – he made clear. – “You don’t pay me at all. The asylum does.” – you stated with a sneer driving him wild.

Jeremiah started to clap, applauding you. – “You are one tough one to crack.” – he said with a silly smile on his lips. – “Finally common ground.” – you answered. Jeremiah got up, shoving his chair back. He pressed his hands firm on the steel table. You didn’t even flinch feeling his fierce eyes pierce at you.

You looked back at him with a tiny smile. – “Does my lack of attention make you angry?” – you asked him. He licked his lip brief, turning his head. Clearly bothered that you were spot on. – “I’ll take that as a yes.” – you filled in. He looked back at you with a silly grin. – “I want your attention, all of it.” – he spoke full of mischief.

“I want you to keep your eyes on me.” – he went on straightening his posture. You kept your eyes on him as he slowly moved around the table over to you. – “I want your devoted attention.” – he continued rounding your side. – “What will you have me do?” – you responded intrigued what his intentions with these sessions were.

He set his hands on the bars of your chair, letting the feet scrape over the floor as he turned you in the chair to him. It made you swallow soft, feeling your heart rate slightly pick up. Jeremiah bend down, leaning in closer. – “It’s my turn to tell you what to do doc.” – he said staring hungry at your eyes. – “Is that s…” – you couldn’t finish your sentence as he had grabbed your throat, pushing your head back. His grip caught you off guard, making you blink a few times to process his hand around your throat.

Jeremiah chuckled devious loosening his fingers around your neck. He let his hand slide down your neck to your chest. His eyes following his movement till they landed on your lap. He smiled. – “May I?” – he asked, sitting down without permission. You felt his weight on your thighs. The thumping of your heart beating through your muscles with his pressure. He exhaled loud looking up to the ceiling for a moment. His arms resting on your shoulders. – “Isn’t this nice doc?” – he asked not wanting to hear an answer.

You turned your head to the side, trying not to fall under his spell. It was so clear he was toying with you. Messing you up and manipulating you. He knew damn well how good looking he was. Knowing no woman could resist his charm. His gaze went down on you once more, seeing you were keeping your head away from him. Jeremiah clicked his tongue, grabbing you by your chin.

He swayed his finger in front of you. – “All your attention Y/n.” – he reminded you. He drew himself nearer letting his cheek brush against yours to reach your ear. – “I can do whatever I like with you.” – he whispered making you feel slightly intimidated and strangely attracted to it. – “There will be guards soon.” – you told him. You heard him breath out a chuckle by your ear. – “We still have twenty minutes, doll.” – he said out loud to send a wave of fear over you.

You swallowed nervously knowing he had his grip on you for another twenty minutes now. He moved his head back to look at you. – “Are you frightened?” – he let out. Strangely you weren’t. Shaking your head you let him know. Your gesture seemed to amuse him. – “Very well doll.” – he spoke as his thumb slid down your cheek. – “Now it is my time to give you therapy.” – he paused his thumb on your underlip, flashing his gaze down to it. – “Therapy of insanity.” – he filled in with a hushed voice.

With his thumb he forced your chin down, opening your mouth. Before you could response properly had he pressed his mouth onto yours. Slipping his tongue right in your mouth. Your eyes widened at the feeling of his tongue in your mouth. His tongue brushed up your upper teeth before he sucked it back in, closing his lips on yours. Kissing your lips roughly. Staining your lips with his sanity. A gentle pull on your hair made you join in. Unable to resist not joining the party. The hotness of his lips demanding your participation. Whatever game he was playing it seemed to affect you. Unable to stay away from it.

What’s wrong with me? You thought as you moved your hands around his neck, grabbing onto the back of his neck. Your chest pressed itself against him taking a bit of control back. Jeremiah released his lips from you with a smirk. – “Somone is eager.” – he teased. – “Shut up and kiss me.” – you demanded pushing his head closer to you. Wanting his hot lips on yours again.

You didn’t have to say that twice as Jeremiah kissed you once more. Blood began to pump harder to your legs as a warmness spread inside of you. What was he doing to you? It was clear he was manipulating you yet you couldn’t stay away from it. Eager to be bound and do his bidding. Whatever he demanded you were willing to give. Surrender fully to him like a lapdog. Lips retracted once more as he smiled touching your cheek with a quick touch.

“Look at you.” – he said noticing the flush in your cheeks. You were panting, ushering your chest closer to him yearning for more. He had you right where he wanted you and you didn’t care. He removed himself from your lap as it pulsated strong. He went back around the table to the wall. Bending down to pick up your notebook. – “Can’t have you leaving without this.” – he said casually as if he just hadn’t kissed you till you saw stars.

He placed the notebook on the table, sliding it over to you. – “Next week same time?” – he asked as you could only nod. – “Good girl.” – he said going round the table again. He went to the door, knocking loudly at it. There he waited for the guards to open up. With one hand in his pocket was he waiting.

As if he had been the therapist ending the session and you the patient. The door opened as the guards were surprised to see him. They cuffed him once more. Before they walked off with him, had he turned around to you. – “I enjoyed this session. Very progressive for my well-being.” – he teased striking you with a wink.

The guards took him with them as you were left alone. You needed at least a few more moments to recollect yourself. The smell of his insanity still lingering on you. You laughed loud trying to cope with the fact that he has you under his thumb now. Grabbing your notebook you took your leave. Anticipating the next session where you no longer cared what he would do to you. As long as it made you feel wanted by him that was enough.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[avelnfear]

Chapter Five

Masterlist

Danny leaned back in his chair with a sigh. He finally managed to complete the paperwork for the Joker’s breakout and subsequent recapture. There was a stupid amount of paperwork required, and Danny no longer had a coworker to share the load with, making it even worse. As Danny leaned a little farther back, his back popped several times in rapid succession, and he sighed again, this time in relief, as he felt his back relax. Leaning forward again, Danny closed the second binder of the day with a sense of wonder that it was finally over as it seemed like the paperwork would never end.

“Paperwork truly is the worst form of punishment… Maybe I can use that elsewhere…” Danny mused aloud as he put his desk back in order before picking up the binders and heading for the door.

Walking through the halls was a simple affair of nods of acknowledgement for and from the guards around him. The head guard’s office was only four halls from Danny's, but there was a mandatory increase in the number of guards due to the recent breakout. In no time at all, Danny arrived at the head guard’s door, so he took a deep breath and knocked on the door. There was no response for enough time that he knocked again, louder this time.

“Come in!” The gruff voice calling out from inside the room didn’t belong to the head guard, but Danny entered regardless. The office looked the same that it usually did, cabinets at the walls, desk towards the back, and the only chair behind the desk. This wasn’t a place to dally for anyone but the head guard. The difference was that Warden Claw sat in the chair with Head Guard Chancey standing behind him.

“Warden Claw, Head Guard Chancey, I have the paperwork here for the recent breakout and for those already recaptured.” Danny set a short, respectful nod to each of them before putting the binders on the desk.

Warden Claw grabbed the binders, looking over them before handing them to Chancey. Danny stood still in the usual respectful posture that guards should have before their superiors although he did want them to hurry it up already. Jason had messaged him earlier that the Batsiblings from the Batburger were safe and all crashing at Jason’s apartment for the next little while as a safety precaution, but Danny hadn’t been able to respond in the chaos of making sure that everything was running as smoothly as possible.

Finally, the Warden looked up. “Do you know why I’m here?” His voice was gruff and harsh, clearly trying to be intimidating since Danny had heard the Warden sounding less harsh and gruff before.

“No, although I assume it has to do with making sure I’m not in league with any of the escapees.” Danny made sure to keep every outward appearance of being respectful even as he rolled his eyes on the inside, almost insulted at the idea that he would ever willingly work with a clown.

“Exactly that. What can you say to convince me that you aren’t in the pockets of those hooligans.” The Warden folded his hands and leaned his face on them, a posture that normally inspired a sense that the person doing it had authority or something like that, Danny was pretty sure he tuned Jazz out when she tried to talk about that stuff.

Danny tilted their head, trying to convey the idea that they were thinking about the issue at hand. “Well, depending on whether or not you already suspect me, there might be nothing I can say to convince you. All I can say is that I’m not native to Gotham although I had heard about it before I moved. Where I used to live, I managed to get some heavy clown trauma, so I’d never work with Blinky or whatever he’s called. I don’t really care about what Harley does because she’s a therapist, or used to be one, and I have therapist trauma. I got enough lectures about the environment from my best friend, and I have developed a healthy respect after that one breed of plants tried to kill my town. That means I wouldn’t go anywhere near Ivy on account of not wanting to get attacked by plants or eco-lectures. As for Penguin, money isn’t my motivation for anything. I’m already paid well enough here, and it isn’t worth going with any of them just to run into the Bats and Birds.” Their head tilted the other way and their eyes squinted as they thought further about the issue at hand. “Furthermore, for one reason or another, admittedly usually to avoid getting on the other end of an angry or working Bat or Bird, I wouldn’t go to any of the Rogues. There should be a note about that in my file from my interview.”

The Warden stared at Danny for several long moments. “Well said. I guess we’re glad to have you. Just don’t quit on me, I don’t want to have to find someone to replace you, if that’s possible.” His voice was much smoother and more gentle, proving Danny’s theory about intimidation right.

“I’m not going to quit on you, I have no reason to.” Danny nodded to give his words a sense of finality to them, trying to reassure the two that he meant what he said. Without saying anything more, the Warden got up and left the room, going back to his own duties most likely.

Head Guard Chancey settled back into her chair and set the binders down on it. “Sorry about that. I tried to tell the Warden that you weren’t the type of person to work with the Rogues here, but he wanted to make sure of that himself. Now, you will watch over the Arts and Crafts Room until your shift ends. The Joker is there, so try not to antagonize him. Any overtime caused by the recent breakout will be paid to you as both overtime and emergency pay, so expect a larger paycheck than normal. Dismissed.” She looked down immediately after she stopped speaking, making the dismissal doubly clear.

Danny headed to the Arts and Crafts Room on autopilot. It wasn’t unusual for inmates who escaped to immediately go back to their old schedule as part of the rehabilitation process, but Danny hadn’t been assigned anywhere near the Joker before this. Danny had considered it a minor blessing and thanked the Ancients for this small piece of goodness. Now, he had no choice but to be in close quarters with someone who had killed his Jason in three lives. Someone who’d killed-

Blinking revealed he was in front of the A&C Room, Danny shook the memories out of his head, there was no time to think about that now. He lowered his head for a second, locking his emotions from showing on his face, not wanting to give the psycho clown any unneeded information. As soon as he felt ready enough, he opened the door smoothly and quietly, closing it behind him and heading to his post with no words said to the occupants of the room. Interactions between guards and inmates were supposed to follow a strict protocol, but not many of the guards actually followed said protocol, Danny mostly included. The Joker looked up and grinned at him, and Danny instantly knew this was going to be a long ending to his shift.

~`~`~

Danny finally put the last completed sheet into the binder, the words on the page blurring horribly due to their tiredness. Somehow this binder seemed even thicker than the ones from earlier in the shift, but that might just be a product of faulty memory seeing as Danny had now been at work for way too many hours. They couldn’t even see the clock clear enough to figure out how long it had been. 

Taking a deep breath and summoning enough willpower to move, Danny strode purposefully towards the head guard’s office once more, keeping their face blank of any and all emotion. Arriving at the door, Danny saw that it was open, Head Guard Chancey leaning on the wall just beside. It seemed she’d been waiting for them because she waved them in without a word and shut the door behind them.

“Are you okay?” Her voice was concerned, but Danny couldn’t figure out why, not even having the energy to tilt their head in confusion.

“Why-” Danny cut themself off at how gravely their voice sounded. “Why do you say that?” Their voice wasn’t much better, but this time it didn’t feel like swallowing gravel, merely sand.

Chancey raised an eyebrow while gesturing for the binder in Danny’s hands. It took two tries to get the binder to her, and Danny had a horrible sinking feeling forming in their gut. “How long do you think you’ve been at work?”

The odd question threw Danny off and made the horrible feeling grow stronger. “Like twelve? Maybe? I can’t exactly read the clock right now, too blurry.” Danny had to put some conscious effort into sounding better this time, and even that didn’t fully make their voice sound better.

“Danny,” there was clear concern in Chancey’s voice this time, and that was odd for a reason Danny couldn’t muster up the energy to figure out, “you’ve been here for thirty hours, not counting the two you spent dozing at your desk. Is there someone I can call to take you home?”

Danny didn’t even bother trying to process how long he’d been at work, focusing on the second part instead. “I’ll be fine. Just need to make it to the apartment without giving that stupid clown any sense of satisfaction for getting to me, and I’ll be good. I’ve dealt with worse, don’t worry.” He had to blink hard for his eyes to focus before taking a deep breath and summoning more willpower, standing straighter and bringing the world back into focus. “See?”

Chancey stared at him in mild horror. “You do see how this is just more worrying, right?” Chancey merely sighed at his nod. “Fine. I’ll take over filing this properly for you, just make it home. If you miss two shifts, I’ll assume you died. Contact me when you wake up so I know not to frantically hire someone to replace you. Go home.”

Danny nodded slowly, trying to hide how much the motion made the world swirl for him. He closed his eyes, taking in another deep breath and willing himself to appear perfectly fine. Clocking out and leaving the asylum was a blur, and Danny blinked only to find himself in the elevator to his and Jason’s floor of the apartment building. Danny just needed to make it in his door before he passed out, that was all, he could do that.

~`~`~

Jason heard the elevator announce its arrival and immediately headed out into the hall to see who it was. The other Batsibs were asleep right now, staying at his place until they were sure Danny was okay. He was grateful that they were willing to do that for someone they’d barely met yet who clearly meant a lot to him, but the apartment was driving all of them crazy with the lack of privacy it offered.

The door opened, and Danny blinked blearily at him, still in their uniform, which was odd enough, but their eyes were also unfocused in that way that only tiredness causes, extreme tiredness. They looked even more similar to Tim than usual, but Jason quickly put that from his mind, going to support them. This proved to be a mistake because as soon as Danny wasn’t responsible for supporting their own weight, they collapsed into sleep, nearly taking Jason to the ground with them.

Deciding to handle this like he would if Tim was passed out in the hallway to his apartment, Jason picked up Danny, ignoring how light they were, and carried them to his apartment. Opening the door was proving to be a bit of a struggle though because he’d locked the door behind him out of habit. Before he could do anything drastic, Dick opened the door with a confused look on his face that quickly turned into concern when he caught sight of Danny in Jason’s arms.

When Dick stood aside, Jason walked in with Danny, heading straight to the bedroom to put Danny on the bed where they’d be comfortable. As he walked quickly though the apartment he noticed that Tim and Damian were also awake. Both of their reactions were nearly identical to Dick’s when they caught sight of Danny slumped in Jason’s arms, worry and concern. 

Jason would have found their reactions to Danny being unconscious heartwarming if he wasn’t too busy being worried about Danny. He’d never seen his friend like that, although he’d never seen them after a breakout either. Jason really hoped this wouldn’t happen every time a breakout happened, his heart couldn’t take it.

As soon as Danny was situated, Jason headed back to the front room to find the three Batsibs talking about what could have caused Danny to be like that. “You guys are thinking about it too hard.” Jason said instead of any form of greeting. “When I met him in the hallway, he looked like Tim after a day of no sleep and no coffee, maybe slightly worse. The most likely conclusion is that he didn’t get any sleep dealing with the aftermath of the breakout.”

The others considered that as Jason went to the kitchen to work out some stress in a healthy manner that would also keep him close enough to be there if anything went wrong with Danny, cooking and baking. Even without being able to see the others, he could almost feel their concern when he didn’t decide to suit up and beat some guys up to get out the stress. Stress cooking and stress baking were usually reserved for times when Jason didn’t know if he could trust himself not to kill anybody, but this wasn’t one of those times.

“You good, Jay?” Dick asked, trying and failing to keep his concern out of his voice, merely muffling it.

“I’m fine, just don’t want to leave Danny alone in the house with you idiots.” Despite the harsh words, Jason tried to keep his voice light to convey that he was teasing. When he heard some chuckles, he knew he’d succeeded. Now he only hoped they could keep this light atmosphere until Danny woke up to answer their questions.

~`~`~

Danny came to with the smell of delicious food and baked goods in their nose. They kept their eyes closed, their body relaxed, and their breathing even, not sure who was in their house. Wait. This wasn’t their bed, the sheets were of a different material and the bed wasn’t a brick. Where were they? Familiar voices reached their ears, but they couldn’t put their finger on who the voices belonged to, their brain still trying to claw its way free from the grabbing hands of sleep.

They focused on their breathing while they waited for their brain to fully wake up, content to just rest in this bed that smelled like Jason. Wait. Jason. They’d made it to the floor of the building that held their apartment, and Jason had met them in the hall. He’d moved to support them and then… and then they must’ve fallen asleep. That means… the voices clicked into place as their brain surged back into full awakeness mode. Jason, Tim, Damian, and Dick were teasing each other outside the door.

Danny basked in the comfort and peace from being so close to their loved ones without having to confront the fact that none of them truly knew them anymore. They would get moving shortly, messaging the people that needed to be messaged and going about things like a normal every day adult, but for now, for now they would simply relax in the bliss that was in such short order in their life. Before Danny knew it they’d drifted back into sleep, a truly restful one this time instead of the sleep of the truly exhausted from before.

~`~`~

Jason raised an eyebrow at Damian as he came back from the position he’d taken up by the door to the bedroom. Damian huffed, yet answered the unspoken question anyway. “Nightingale has fallen back to sleep.” Jason waited to see if an insult was forthcoming, but there was none, Damian simply settling back down at the table. Jason and Dick traded incredulous looks while Tim just stared into his coffee like it held the answers to the universe.

“You seem tame today, Demon Brat.” Jason remarked, careful to keep his voice from dipping into the accusatory tones that would set the small terror off.

“Tt. Just because Nightingale has proven to be more competent than the rest of you, minus Cain, doesn’t mean I’m tame. I’m not some wild animal you have to carefully tame.” Damian let his disdain show in everything from his voice to his face, but Jason saw something in his eyes that he couldn’t decipher. 

Jason didn’t respond, simply humming a vague non-answer as he turned back to the chocolate chip pancakes. There was something off about the way Damian was acting lately, but Jason didn’t know what. It didn’t seem to be a bad thing, a gentle Damian couldn’t reasonably be an entirely bad thing, but Jason didn’t like not knowing. Call it Bat training, good old paranoia, the assassin training, or whatever you’d like, but Jason didn’t like not knowing what was going on with the people he was close to.

Dick stood up suddenly. “I have to start getting back to Bludhaven, tell me how Danny is when he wakes up?” Jason nodded, not wanting to take his eyes or focus off the pancakes. “Thanks for breakfast Little Wing. See ya Baby Bird, Baby Bat.” Dick nodded towards Jason, then Tim, then Damian before leaving to head back to his town.

Tim stayed staring into the coffee, barely acknowledging Dick’s farewell. Damian gave a curt nod before focusing on the food in front of him. A comfortable silence descended over the apartment, the smell of pancakes and other foods making it seem much cozier than the impersonal decorations did. Time passed like that, no one talking as food was prepared and eaten. Jason felt something within him settle, felt the green go even more quiet than normal, and he didn’t want it to stop.

The quiet calm atmosphere dissolved quickly when the door to the bedroom creaked open and Danny stumbled into the kitchen, falling into a seat at the table that was, thankfully, empty. Without speaking, Jason set down a couple plates of food and a cup of coffee in front of them. They hummed in a grateful tone before digging into the meal before them, washing it all down with coffee. Jason just kept supplying them with food until the consumption rate slowed down and they looked more present.

“Ask away.” Danny ordered softly, not looking up from their food just yet.

“Why were you alone in the hallway when you were that tired?” Jason tried to be gentle yet show how concerned he was.

Danny hummed again, this time in a tone Jason didn’t know how to decipher yet took to mean that Danny was still slightly tired. “I didn’t want to let the stupid clown have any sense of satisfaction for getting to me, so I declined the head guard’s offer to have someone take me home.” Danny pushed aways the last empty plate and rubbed their face with their hands. “I hate clowns, especially ones like Bozo er Blinky er Smiley or whatever his name is. You would not believe the amount of paperwork I had to do simply because a clown drew a picture of killing me, showed it to me, and then broke a pencil. After all of that, there was absolutely no way that I was going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he got to me.”

“The Joker did what?” Tim asked, finally looking up from his coffee.

“So that’s his name, huh?” Danny blinked a few times. “Yeah. It’s stupid, but I had to put together another binder because of the incident on top of the two for the breakout and recapture stuff. I get that my late coworker was probably corrupt, but why did he have to die and leave me alone with the paperwork?” Danny let their head fall to their arms on the table, likely still not entirely awake.

Damian suddenly leaned forward. “How many hours did you work to be that tired?” Jason figured it was probably a profiling question from the Demon Brat, but it was a little out of character for him to sound that worried.

“According to Chancey, the head guard, I was working for thirty hours not counting the two I dozed off for, but I don’t think I dozed off at all, more likely just got lost in thought for a stupidly long amount of time. Plus several of those hours were spent guarding the A&C Room, the Arts and Crafts Room, meaning I was also expending energy to lock my emotions away so that the stupid clown wouldn’t be able to see anything that could be used against me in the future. I also don’t think I managed to snag a lunch break either, so there’s that.” Danny hummed tiredly again. “I’m off then.”

“Off?” Jason questioned, mind racing to try and figure out what they meant.

“Yeah. I’m going to message Chancey and then sleep in my own bed for a little while. Not that yours wasn’t comfortable enough, just think I need some time to recharge and get stuff sorted out before I have to head in again. It was nice seeing you guys.” And just like that Danny was gone, the door closing behind them. A short time later the sound of another door opening and then closing reached his ears and he sighed. Danny sure was a mystery.

Taglist: @blacksea21090 @chrysanthemum9484 @samgirl98 @may-rbi @justwannaseesomebrozawa @serasvictoria02 @treepainting @fluffykster @enderglace @sigdexae @persephoneblackrose @angelofsongsoteira @lazy-bouqet @littlefeather345 @icedbluesoul @autumnwulf @thefearfullone @alixanterm @skulld3mort-1fan @dulceringo @vidimirrayne @betinaplayingwriter @the-legal-shipper @currant-owo @crystalqueertea @fisticuffsatapplebees @bugaboo25 @dannyphantomphan @botwadtict @kyrianclawraith @mnemovoid @lyra689 @demiourgias @d4ydr34min9 @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit I think that’s everyone

[bluelotuswrites]

Chapters: 1/2 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham (Video Games), Batman: Arkham Knight Genesis (Comics) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Jason Todd Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Joker (DCU), Jim Gordon, Tim Drake Additional Tags: Jason Todd-centric, Hurt No Comfort, Body Horror, Graphic Description of Corpses, Gore, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dark, Alternate Universe - Batman: Arkham (Video Games) Setting, Batman: Arkham Series (Video Games) Spoilers, Arkham Asylum, Ghosts, Dead Jason Todd, Ghost Jason Todd, Depictions of Decay, graphic descriptions of decomposition, Supernatural - Freeform, Paranormal, Corpse Desecration, A rat eats a body it's gross, Maggots, Descent into Madness, Revenge, Supernatural Elements Summary:

“Have you got something to tell the nice man, Jason?”

"My name is Jason Todd.” His voice was hollow, lacking any of the conviction that he once held back at the beginning when he was so sure that Batman would find him.

“Who do you hate?”

"Batman."

"Excellent! Of course you do,” Joker cooed as he stepped in front of the camera and peered into the camera. “Did you get that, Bats? Kid’s not yours anymore. He’s mine. Mine, mine, mine. To do with as I wish.

"Hey, I never asked. What’s the big secret?” He circled Jason, one hand resting on his shoulder in a mocking facsimile of casual friendliness. Before, every touch would have made him flinch and spit vitriol at the monster, but now, he didn’t even react to the hand. “Who is the big, bad Bat? His name. Tell me."

“Of course, sir. Its-"

BANG!

Jason Todd died underground in an abandoned wing of Arkham Asylum.

But Jason Todd’s ghost still stuck around.

[2-guns-b1tch]

Talk To Me

Arkham! Riddler × FemaleReader

🔞Minors DNI!!!

This is my first fanfiction about Riddler and I am very excited to be writing about him because I am obsessing about everything relating to Batman! Some dialogues will be based on Arkham Asylum and Arkham Knight tapes. Thank you for reading and enjoy!

Masterlist

CHAPTER 1/ A03

The ticking of the clock is the only sound that fills the room. You keep your eyes fixed on the pointer, anxiety consuming you inside. At any moment your patient would arrive. At any moment, Edward Nygma, better known as the Riddler, would be brought into his therapy session with you.

You can't help but blink with the brightness of the ceiling lights. No windows at sight, just four concrete walls around you. Everything was too cold and artificial, too distant from coziness. The therapy room felt more like an interrogation room. It was clear why no patient would open up during the sessions.

Your hand closes around your left forearm and you feel the familiar urge to scratch the skin there. Instead, you breathe deeply a few times until your mind is clear, preferring to poke the cuticle of your nails.

Your eyes turn again to your files, studying the name “Edward Nygma" written in large letters on the cover. You flip through the pages quickly, checking if you hadn't forgotten anything.

You shake your head, closing it. That was just nervousness trying to speak louder than reason. You were ready, you had studied for days, you prepared the sessions carefully. You needed to be confident, even more so in the presence of someone like Nygma. You couldn't show weaknesses.

A siren sounds as the heavy metal door opens and you move your gaze in his direction, watching as Nygma was escorted by a guard to the chair in front of you.

Despite the prisoner's clothing, the chains around his wrists, and the fact that he was accompanied by a guard, he was far less intimidating than you thought.

He didn't resemble the man you'd read about. He might tower over you with his height, but his slender silhouette wasn't particularly threatening. His brown hair was a little messy and a pair of glasses landed on his nose.

Nygma didn't look like the monster people described. No psychotic gaze or evil laughter. In fact, he had a bored expression on his face, slightly annoyed, as if he didn't want to be there.

"Thank you, sir," you say to the guard as Edward sits down. "You can go now."

"Are you sure, Doctor? He can be very difficult sometimes," you notice how Nygma rolls his eyes. "Won't you need help?"

"No, I have everything under control and I want Mr. Nygma to be comfortable during our session."

"Alright, then. You have 30 minutes." The guard warns before leaving, the door lock being triggered after it is closed.

Even though you're locked in the same room as one of Gotham's most dangerous men, you don't feel fear. You almost wanted to laugh at your foolishness. Edward was just a man. He was palpable, made of flesh, bone and blood just like you. Of course he had done bad things, but that could be solved with medical treatment, which is why you were there.

You smiled at him, your fingers entwined in front of you. "Good morning, Mr. Nygma. It's a pleasure to finally meet you," you say in a gentle tone, saying your name next. "I'll be your therapist in the next few months, so we'll see each other quite often."

He settles against the metal chair. "Of course it's a pleasure to meet me, Doctor. It's not often you can meet someone with my intellect," he huffs a laugh. "And I don't imagine we'll see each other that often, most of the therapists I've met here have lasted two weeks. Apparently their small minds can't handle a mind such as mine."

You just nod your head, writing on your clipboard the words "self-centered?", "narcissist? " and "megalomaniac?". You had started well.

"First I would like to make it clear that this is a safe space, Mr. Nygma. You have the freedom to say what you have in your mind, but if you don't feel comfortable, you have every right to remain silent. I'm here to help you."

He crosses his arms, the chains tinkling with the movement. "Oh, Doctor. You don't have the ability to help me, and besides, I don't need help from anyone. But it's still adorable that you try."

You cross out the question marks, putting an exclamation at the end of each word.

"It's a shame you think like this, Mr. Nygma. Everyone needs help sometimes."

"Why would I need help from someone below me? You're totally misguided if you think anyone will ever make it to my level.”

"Well, since you don't need my help at the moment, I'd like you to help me with something then."

Edward raises an eyebrow in his direction. "You need... my help?"

"You see," you grab his file, pretending to look for something in particular. "What I've read about you is very superficial, I'd like you to help me understand a few things."

"I'm usually the one asking the questions, but... Go on." He was still distrustful, but at least it looked like you had caught his attention.

"Here it says that you have vast knowledge about engineering and computing, and for a period of time you were a member of the Cybercrime Division of the GCPD. That's impressive."

"I'm aware of my genius, thank you. But your point is?"

"Well, what drives a brilliant man like you to throw that away?"

"Throw it away?" he tosses his head back in a laugh, as if there's a joke only he's aware of. "I didn't throw anything away, Doctor! That place limited my abilities, trapped me with fools. Gotham needed my help, so that's what I did."

"What exactly did you do, Mr. Nygma?"

"I don't expect you to understand, but Gotham has a long history of corruption, older than you and me," Edward stands up, the chair creaking behind him. You try to keep your face relaxed, showing concern would make him think he has some power over you. "The people in power are all stupid. I just wanted to improve the city’s standing, trim it of its corrupt and worthless politicians! That was my plan until the Bat showed up and ruined everything." He sits up again, his shoulders slumped.

"I plan to talk about Batman in our next sessions, for today, I just want to talk about you." You quickly jot down the name of the vigilante, circling it several times. That would be a sensitive topic, but very important to Edward's journey.

"Do you need me to clarify anything else about me, Doctor?" Nygma asks with sarcasm in his voice, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"It also says here that your last name used to be 'Nashton'. Why did you decide to change it?"

"I thought it was obvious, but I suppose not everyone thinks like me. You see, in addition to matching my new persona, it's also a wordplay. Edward Nygma abbreviated is E. Nygma."

"Very clever, but is there no reason beyond that? Don't you get upset about having to lose your father's last name? Usually people tend to have an attachment to these things."

For a second, his eyebrows furrow and he looks away. Maybe that reaction had to do with the mention of his father, or it might be nothing, but you needed to dig deeper.

Edward clears his throat. "No, those are the only reasons."

You write "Troubled childhood? Difficult relationship with parents?". If Edward wasn't ready to open up yet you wouldn't push him, preferring to save those hypotheses for the next sessions.

"Thank you for being so understandable so far, Mr. Nygma. Now, I'd like to know how your staying here in Arkham is going."

"Please, Doctor. If your questions are over you don't need to make small talk with me. I'd even appreciate it if this ended soon."

You shake your head. "I need to know if you're being treated well here. The therapy won't work if you're in a troubled environment."

"You're new here, aren't you?" And you’re very naive too, apparently," he leans in your direction, whispering like he's telling you a secret. "This is Arkham, Doctor. As long as the degenerates and crazy are out of sight of Gotham's good citizens, then that's no one's problem anymore. And the worst part," his fists clench on the table. "It's that they think I deserve to be here! A genius like me trapped among savages! Nobody cares."

"That's not true, Edward," you place your hand over his. "I care."

Edward pulls away from your touch as if it burned him. "Don't touch me!" he screams. "You think your compliments may deceive me, but you're just like the others. Don't lie to me!"

You knew that the guards were watching everything through the security camera and if the patient lost control you had to follow the protocol and press a button under the table for them to come and control him. But if someone intervened you would lose any chance of gaining Edward's trust.

"Please calm down, Edward. I understand your distrust, but I just want to help you," you raise your hands but don't move closer, keeping your voice calm. "Forgive me for touching you without your permission, I've crossed the line. That's not going to happen again."

His chest rises and falls in deep breaths, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead. His eyes seem lost, wandering quickly around the room but never stopping at you.

"Tell me about your routine. What do you usually do during the day?" you ask, trying to regain his attention.

"I-i," he swallows dryly, moving his eyes to your face. "They bring them meals to my cell. I can only go out to take showers and during some hours for socializing."

"Do you talk to the others patients?"

"No, I don't waste my time with any of these brutes. They don't have anything interesting to say." His confident mask comes back again, an attempt to take control of the situation. At least he seemed to be calming down a bit.

"And the guards, do they treat you well? It's important that you feel safe."

"Safe? No one feels safe in here, Doctor. But at least they don't hit me, if that's what you want to know."

You check the clock on the wall, realizing that the time limit had already passed.

"All right, our session ends here, but if anything happens, I need you to tell me. Your well-being is one of my priorities."

He laughs, shaking his head. "It's stupid that you think you have any control in here. But if you insist, I'll keep you updated."

You smile sincerely at him. "Thank you, Edward. That's very important to me. Until next session."

He doesn't say goodbye when the guard comes to pick him up, but keeps his eyes on you until he leaves, as if he's searching for something. Something hidden inside you.

——

The sound of your heels echoes down the hallway as you walk toward Director Quincy Sharp's office. Since the Arkham Asylum had reopened all new staff had to make monthly updates on their progress to their superiors and you were no exception.

Luckily the session with Nygma ended on time, since you had to take the longest route to get to Sharp's office.

For some reason your access card only allowed you to circulate through some areas of the asylum, so you ended taking longer travels, but safer. Well, at least that's what the guards told you.

You stop in front of the office door, taking a deep breath before knocking on it.

Sharp's ever-solemn voice sounds behind it, telling you to come in. You push open the door, realizing that Dr. Young was already there as well.

Quincy Sharp's office didn't fail to give you goosebumps. The dim light cast shadows on the room, making it even darker. A woody, antique smell lingered on the furniture, and beyond that, the Director's portraits and statues made you feel watched, as if their eyes were following you. And people thought Nygma was self-centered.

You offer them a small smile, but both the Director and Dr. Young maintain a professional and serious expression. The air in the room feels heavy, almost suffocating.

Even though you were there a few times you couldn't help but curl up against the chair, the skin of your forearm tingling underneath your lab coat.

Quincy clears his throat before he starts speaking. "Glad you've arrived, Doctor. Dr. Young and I were talking about you. Tell me, how is your experience here at the asylum?" the smile on his face is almost gentle, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes, like it was something rehearsed.

You clasp your fingers over your lap, trying to ignore the urge to dig your nails into your arm. "It's has been very educational, Mr. Sharp. I thank you immensely for the opportunity."

As much as Arkham had a reputation for dealing with Gotham's most dangerous criminals, you were lucky to have been hired, especially since you didn't have as much experience on your resume. After all, you wanted to help people, that's why you had majored in psychology, so you would do your best no matter where you were.

And even though your superiors were a little distant and cold, you had clung to Dr. Young. She was the head of research at the asylum, a genial woman who could even be kind at times. You were lucky that she decided to take you under her wing as a pupil, guiding you through her research and discoveries. You hoped to be like her one day.

You keep going. "The staff are great and my fellow therapists have been very helpful, but... I have some complaints."

Sharp's thoughtful gaze falters for a second, but the smile remains on his face. Beside him, Dr. Young settles into her chair.

"And what would it be exactly?" Quincy asks.

"Well, I haven't had a chance to get to know the rest of the asylum yet. My card is restricted to only a few spaces and I would very much like to see the patient area." You explain.

You hated how ungrateful you felt. After everything Dr. Young had done, you looked like a child having a tantrum.

Deep down, you know this guilt is ridiculous. In addition to decreasing your walking time, you needed to check for yourself the rooms and the living areas. Even though many there had committed horrific crimes they still deserved to be treated as people, the patients needed a stable environment to improve.

Dr. Young shakes her head, placing a hand on your shoulder. "At the moment it's not possible. The asylum is overloaded with patients and it would be dangerous to walk through some areas."

"I understand, but if only I could make a quick visit. It can be in the living areas or-”

Quincy interrupts you with a wave of his hand. "Please, Doctor," his voice sounds more serious and firm, his gaze fixed on you "don't insist on it. This would be reckless and would likely cause turmoil among the inmates. And we don't want that, do we?"

You swallow dryly, shaking your head. "No sir, I'm sorry. I just wanted to get to know the asylum better." A warmth spreads across your face and you stare at your own hands like a child who has been scolded.

"Don't worry, you'll have that chance," Dr. Young says. "Why don't you tell us about your first session with Mr. Nygma?"

"Oh, of course," you take a deep breath, "Well, let's see. He definitely has a megalomaniac complex, like you said, and despite having some violent tendencies, I think he has a great chance of recovering."

"I think the best decision would be to end his obsession with riddles." Dr. Young suggests.

"That's the right thing to do," Sharp says. "He's been leaving some threatening riddles on the walls of the asylum. We don't know exactly where he gets the materials to do that."

"Maybe we could try to redirect his interest. Puzzles and riddles are a very important part of Nygma, to take that away from him would be cruel." You argue.

"These riddles of his have brought nothing but trouble to people. We should nip this evil in the bud as soon as possible." Sharp punctuates his argument by tapping his finger against the hard surface of the table.

As much as you have several arguments going through your mind, the oppressive environment of the room doesn’t allow you to say anything at the moment. You decide to save your ideas for another time, when you could talk to Dr. Young alone.

"That's all I have to say for now. I'll have other sessions with Nygma soon and will bring new updates." You explain, wishing you could finally escape.

"Alright then, you are dismissed," Sharp says. "Have a nice day, Doctor."

You let out a heavy sigh as the door closes behind you.

You stare into your own hands, noticing a slight tremor in them. You need to clench your fists, breathing deeply to try to contain the nervousness in your chest.

It's almost comical how a simple meeting with your bosses has this effect on you, while talking to a criminal makes you less anxious.

——

You finally get home, sighing in relief after spending hours stuck in traffic.

Before you can turn on the lights, excited meows greet you with joy as Meg rubs herself against your legs.

"Hello, love," you take her in your arms, letting her nestle her head against your cheek. "Sorry for leaving you alone for so long, today was a long day."

Your keys clink with each turn you make on the three locks of your door, passing the bolt last. Even if you had enough money to live in a safe neighborhood, Gotham was still a dangerous city and it was better to be safe than sorry.

You finish taking off your lab coat, leaving it in the hanger next to the entrance.

"Are you hungry?" You ask, walking Meg to the kitchen and putting her on the countertop.

She meows insistently, excited at the idea of food. "I know, baby. Mommy is a monster for starving her baby." You tease, filling her bowl.

It was nice to have someone to take care of, who looked forward to your return home. Ever since Meg came into your life your anxiety had improved and she always made the lonely moments less heavy. You needed her as much as she needed you, maybe even more.

Your fingers scratch her lower back while the other hand pulls the recorder from your pocket, keeping it close to your mouth.

"First session with the patient, Edward Nygma, also known as Riddler. It is already obvious that the patient presents a narcissistic and megalomaniacal complex, needing at all times to demean me as well as others to show his superiority. It still takes more time to determine if this complex comes from a place of low self-esteem. Also, Edward has sudden mood swings and is mildly paranoid," you clear your throat before continuing. "Although Dr. Young thinks Nygma's obsession with puzzles is bad, I think we can redirect it to something healthier. Reminder to buy him a puzzle book," you stare at Meg's cans of food inside the cupboard, counting them quickly. "Reminder to buy more cat food too."

[kitsune024]

Danny Phantom & Batman Fanfiction Crossover

Graveyard Shift by Mangopaw

He moved slowly through the dark hall as the alarms blared and flashed, his eyes cutting through the dark.

Where. Where did he go?

He pauses at a sound, glancing down the left hall as a masked group crouches and goes still. Not paying them any mind, he pays more attention to the blue smoke that finds its way out his throat, curling around his face before trailing off down the hall.

He starts walking again. He has someone to find. With barely a thought he slowly fades from the visible spectrum as he continues down the straight hall.

Chapters: 7/?

[iwillfightgodandwin]

I read this Bruce Wayne fanfic awhile ago and now I can't find it. Which is stupid, cause it was really good.

Basically it was about Bruce visiting Arkham Asylum and going "huh. This is kinda shit. I let my villians live like this? No wonder they're evil." So he starts asking them if they want anything. Ivy wants to tend to the plants in the garden, Harley wants Bruce to watch her hyenas for her, ect. Bruce spends lots of time with Harvey Dent trying to get him into a more stable mindset. Eventually, it basically devolves into all the rogues having a huge sleepover at Wayne manor. Alfred wasn't home, everyone was arguing over what movie to watch, it was FANTASTIC.

Edit: FOUND IT! It's called How Bruce Wayne Accidentally Stops Crime by LokkisonD on ao3!

[lavendersprouts]

There should be an Arkham dark comedy where we get to see the therapy appointments of different villains and see bits of their lives, their past, their trauma and how they handle it but also how they typically behave in Arkham.

Like we’re told they’re sent back but it would be nice to see more of what that looks like when they’re there.

[blue-flamed-phoenix]

Chapter 3 - Curiosity

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time skip (a few hours later)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

<-Previous Chapter<-

Hayley's P.O.V

I fiddled with the bandage wrapped around my hand. After I left the canteen earlier today I punched a wall. I just felt angry and punched a wall out of anger. It was definitely dumb and incredibly stupid but hey I just got so angry. I made my way to the kitchen where the lunch ladies were making dinner for the inmates. Once I got inside I sat on one of the silver benches as I greeted the lunch ladies. I called out to Martha and Jill while they were at the stoves. "Hey Hayley, where have you been all day?" Jill asked curiously. "Visiting inmates on the third floor." I replied. "Oh my what have you done to your hand darling?" Martha asked noticing my hand as she looked over her shoulder. "Punched a wall" I replied as I played with the bandage. "What! Hayley did you get angry again?" Jill asked as I nodded. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. You can't be doing that Hayley, you should go to the med floor, get your hand checked out." Martha said as she lifted the big metal pot off the stove and over to another silver bench across from me.

"I can still move my fingers, I think it's just bruised." I said holding my hand up while moving my fingers. "You say that now, wait till it inflames into a giant blueberry." Martha replied in a motherly tone. "You gotta control that anger of yours Hayley, sooner or later it could get you into a lot of trouble." Jill told. "I know Jill, hey where's everyone else?" I asked wondering where the other lunch ladies were. "They are helping bring in the new shipment of food that just came in this afternoon." Martha said as she moved to a draw. She opened it and pulled out a red box. I immediately knew what it was. CHOCOLATE. I reached out with grabby hands as I said "gimme, gimme, gimme". Martha handed me the box and I thanked her. As I opened the box and began eating the chocolate, the other lunch ladies came in with boxes and bags full of food and stuff. "Don't eat too many of those, you'll get sick." One said as they all walked through the kitchen putting stuff away.

The lunch ladies liked me better than the rest of the inmates. They were all practically my adoptive parents. All 12 of them. As the ladies packed away the food they had brought into the kitchen, they took all the cooked food out to all the inmates on the different floors. This left me alone in the kitchen as I didn't feel like following them. I sighed and continued eating chocolate. I am addicted to it, who isn't? I heard the kitchen door open and knew right away that it wasn't one of the ladies. I turned my head to see Jerome standing there. "Might I ask what you're doing in the kitchen? I thought most inmates weren't allowed down here." I said as I ate another chocolate.

"Well I'm not most inmates, gorgeous." Jerome said as he stalked towards me. "Huh, I thought you were most inmates" I responded, my tone dripping with disinterest. "Careful gorgeous that sharp tongue can get you into a lot of trouble you know." Jerome said smiling. Hisscarsmade his smile look twice the natural size but still I remained unfazed. I watched as Jerome stalked towards me while I ate the chocolate that was still in my hands. "If you're looking for knives, they're all locked up, I don't have the key" I said as my boredom of this conversation grew larger.

"Oh trust me gorgeous, I have many ways with locks." The ginger said as he drew closer to me. "Huh, oh my gosh, I think I just had an epiphany, it's almost like I don't care." I said sarcastically as I faked surprise. I closed the chocolate box and jumped down from the bench. I walked past Jerome, the chocolate box in hand as I walked towards the doors that led back outside the kitchen. I could sense Jerome was still looking at me as I opened the door. However, I stopped and looked back at Jerome to see he was looking at me.

"Oh kitten, I hope you realise the guards don't care about what happens in here." Jerome said which sounded like a threat. "First off, don't call me kitten, secondly I know the guards don't care. I've been here a lot longer than you have Romie." I answered as I walked out of the kitchen and into the hall. I realised I had given Jerome a nickname. Romie ha ha, I like that name. I went to Oswald's room. The door was open and Oswald was just sitting at his desk.

Without knocking, I stepped inside and sat down on his bed. As soon as I sat down, he turned around and looked at me questioningly. "Sorry for walking away before in the canteen" I apologised as Oswald gave me a surprised look. "What?" Oswald said cluelessly. "I just wanted to apologise for leaving you with the ginger. I guess you could say I lost my temper a bit." I said as I opened the chocolate box again. I held the box out for Oswald to take one. "Want one?" I asked and Oswald gave me a suspicious look. "Oh come on, where's a girl like me going to get poison from and I prefer not to kill my friends as soon as I meet them?" I insisted still holding the box out.

Eventually Oswald took a chocolate and thanked me. "I don't remember you ever asking me to be your friend." Oswald said as he ate the chocolate. I chuckled. "Well it looked like you needed a friend back in the canteen. You looked miserable, I figured you could use someone to talk to." I explained. "You just walk up to random people in here and talk to them just like that?" Oswald asked with a surprised look. I nodded. "Almost everyone in the asylum knows me, considering I've been here my whole life, after a while you lose the fear" I said to which Oswald nodded. "So what did the ginger have to say while I was absent?" I asked curiously.

"Not much that's worth repeating. But I don't think he's planning to leave me alone so I'm probably going to be sleeping with one eye open tonight." Oswald muttered to which I nodded and looked around the cell. "Well, hopefully things get better." I said as I looked at Oswald. "I'll see you tomorrow Oswald. Good night" I replied as I bid Oswald farewell. "Goodnight Hayley" I heard him say as I walked out of his cell. As I walked down the dark hallway, I reached a large vent and opened it. I climbed in and shut the vent behind me. I climbed up the vents until I reached a certain floor of the asylum. The Comatose and vegetative state ward.

I opened a vent and crawled into the ward. I shut the vent behind me and stood up. I began to walk past each bed that had a patient in it that was either in a coma or a vegetative state. That is until I made it to one particular bed. My father's. I got a chair and sat at his bedside. I grabbed his hand and held it in both mine. I looked at my father's pale, weakened face. I could hear machines beeping and the ventilator helping him breathe in the background.

"Hey dad," I said as I looked at him. "Sorry, I haven't been up here in awhile. It's been hectic down stairs, especially in the violent ward." I apologised. "I missed you, I hope that you are doing OK in there. A lot has happened in the last few months." I began to explain as I just sat there and talked not knowing if he heard me or not. "More and more inmates have been coming to the asylum, a lot more than usual." I explained and so for the rest of the night I told my father about the latest things that have happened in Arkham Asylum.

By the time I finished talking to my father it was almost dawn. So I said goodbye to my dad and climbed through the vents again only this time I climbed to the top floor.

->Next Chapter->

[pop-theories]

Batman is a mutant

[tragedy125]

i really want to write an original story about my partly made up view on scarecrow (jonathan crane) because i’m so goddamn fixated on him and the way i’ve created this version of him inside of my mind. i’ve just been obsessed with him since playing arkham asylum. he’s so pretty and his backstory from arkham knight has inspired this beautifully sweet version of him AND THUS I NEED TO WRITE ABOUT IT AND NOT JUST KEEP IT HIDDEN INSIDE OF MY NOTES!! but i’m deathly afraid of people seeing it and it plainly existing in this wild hell called the internet:)

if you would like to heard my thoughts, unfortunately, and in short subtle versions, i may or may not post about in a future draft i shall soon create👀

[alter-l-ego]

Arkham Asylum: A House Not Sane - Chapter II

⏪ 🦇 ⏩

This story takes place five years after Batman: Year One.

Follow my IG to support my work: @alter.l.ego

[red-batty]

The Arkham Hellion: Year One

Chapter 1: The One Where Everything Worked Out (Part 3)

Characters: Connie Inviglio (oc), Dante Spectre (oc), Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow. Emril Griffith (oc, mentioned), Connie Inviglio x Jonathan Crane (slight)

Warnings: Language warning, dark themes, psychoanalysis

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: okay i know i tagged this as Crane x Connie but like it only sets the foundation for it here

———————

Connie stopped by her apartment first. She had thirty minutes until she had to be at the station, and she needed to feed her dog. Bilbo came bounding towards her, his fluffy tail wagging with excitement. Her shift at GCPD ran from 3 to 8, mirroring the hours she worked at Arkham, from 9 to 2. She was going to get home late tonight, so she fed Bo half of his dinner early. As she looked at her calendar in between shifts, she realized that her shift ended at 8 (way past when her parents would be enjoying dinner) and that right after she needed to get to the university for her class. A lot of her credits came from her work with the police and at the Asylum, but there were still a couple of classes that would help round out her degree and assure her future doctorate. Her class would be at nine, end at ten, she’d be home at ten thirty, and she could sleep. 

Today was Thursday for Miss Caroline Inviglio, which is why she had her night class with Dr. Crane. In the morning, she’d have to get up early to attend her positive psychology class, work her shift at Arkham, but she wasn’t needed at the station on Fridays, so she instead had a lecture, a self defense class, and the evening to herself to complete school work. Saturdays had no shifts, another self defense class and a kickboxing class, but then she’d have the rest of the day. Those were the days she’d take Bilbo out for walks, go to the park or maybe visit a cemetery and leave flowers at each grave. Sundays were more classes, more lectures, another walk, and then work would resume on Monday. 

Connie worked hard. She took her pills, minded her diet, and crammed as much effectiveness into her independent life as she could. Once upon a time, she was trapped with a family with animosity towards each other, surviving through mental illness and before that, living paycheck to paycheck in uncertain households. She never would have seen herself with the life that she had now. A dog, steady work, an abundance of education and the willpower and time to train her body to fight. Rest may have been limited, but she earned every bit of it, and didn’t regret the life she had. 

At 3:01 pm, Connie had parked her car, and five minutes later, she had her ID on and had checked in at the front desk of the Gotham City Police Department. 

"Ms. Inviglio?" a voice asked, and upon turning around Connie was faced with one of the most attractive men she had ever met.

"That's, uh, that's me." Her mind raced to keep calm, but very attractive people, men in particular, had a way of causing her common sense to falter. Women she felt more confident around, more encouraged to impress and befriend, but men were intimidating.

He had odd features, not the kind one would typically describe a perfect man- no square jaw, chiseled features, sharp nose, or piercing eyes. Quite frankly, his features could almost be described as soft, with a rounded jaw and no overly pronounced chin, thin lips and dark brown eyes. When he extended his hand for a handshake, she gripped it with a firm and confident shake, despite her trembling. The softness of his hands caught the hopeless romantic that Connie was off guard. 

A tattoo of a sun or star, some design that looked pagan but she wasn't familiar with, was tattooed on the side of his neck, and delicate symbols and shapes were tattooed on the back of his hands. A large windbreaker-type coat swamped his broad shoulders, and underneath that he wore a black shirt and a gold chain. His hair was shaved on the sides and slicked back. 

The man may have had gentler facial features and pianist's hands, but his time as a detective in Gotham wore him into the focused, grizzled and bitter cop before her. His eyes were dark and shadowed, and his thin lips were pulled into a hard line.

"I'm Detective Spectre; Commissioner Gordon said you'd be arriving. You're our intern?" Even his voice was pretty, and Connie struggled to compute how to maintain social etiquette. 

"I'm, uhm, yup. That’s me. I’m doing criminal profiling, yknow, ha..." Her father was an attorney and before that, a soldier. She gained a lot from growing up under him, and one of them was the lift of her chin, the squaring of her shoulders and her hands resting stiffly at her side when she was faced with a superior. 

The detective regarded her carefully. "I'm told you work with Dr. Griffith?" 

"Yes, sir." 

As the detective lead her down to her place in the forensics lab, Connie used her inhaler. Her hammering heart and nerves did not help the scratch and ache in her lungs. It confirmed a theory she had once told a friend - that attractive people were bad for her health. Once Dt. Spectre explained his expectations for her work on his case, he left, and Connie’s focus returned. 

Connie did see her dad when he came by the station to receive evidence; and she also noticed how it came from the Commissioner himself. It wasn’t hard to see the truth- that Batman was involved. In almost every aspect of her life and career, he was. Maybe, she’d get to see this fable of a man for herself, but until then, she regarded him as a resource for the criminal-justice system, and kept neutral opinions on the morality of his existence. Michael and Connie exchanged a hug, and Connie apologized that she would have to miss dinner to complete her work and make it to her class. Returning home was rescheduled for Saturday, when her mother Seanna would make her famous red rice.

Work went smoothly from there. As a forensic, she assisted a witness in Dt. Spectre’s case in sketching a depiction of the criminal. If the GCPD wasn’t so understaffed, Connie wouldn’t have any involvement in forensic art, but she was more than qualified to provide the service. As the witness struggled to describe her assailant, she shook, stammered and contradicted her own statements. Connie had to calm her down repeatedly. Connie then had to write out a rough description of what kind of person would be inclined to commit certain crimes - profiling. The assailant for Spectre’s case was the most interesting, because Connie deemed him to be a complete sociopath, and what behaviors and mannerisms he’d exhibit. Once Connie submitted her report and finished up other necessary paperwork for other cases, she finished her shift at 8.

Cold barbecue pizza, feed and pet the dog, double check on the plants, grab your lanyard. Four things, just a quick stop at her apartment, and then Connie was heading out again. Leftover pizza was not the most nutritious dinner, but it would tide her over for her class. She technically didn’t need to take this class, but of all the classes that could have given her credits, this one was the most interesting. A lot of students didn’t like Dr. Crane or his class, and found him creepy, but Connie gave him the benefit of the doubt and deemed him an eccentric; additionally, in a class about fear, creepy things would inevitably be the topic of discussion. 

Connie took this class despite its reputation, because understanding the psychology and behaviour centered around fear would inevitably assist her work at Arkham. It certainly helped Crane, who also worked at the asylum; his office was just down the hall from Dr. Griffith’s. She found Dr. Crane attractive in a way, but he was strange and intimidating, so it was much easier to dismiss, but she still found herself admiring him. He was dedicated to science and his work, and he had succeeded in his career. That gained her appreciation far more than his elegant features and cold blue eyes.

She made it to the campus early. After walking across the courtyard of Gotham University, going up a flight of steps and walking across the building, she found Dr. Crane’s classroom. Twenty minutes to go, and the door was closed. Not wanting to disturb her professor before he opened the door, she found a seat on the floor against the wall, and checked her phone. There were too many texts, messages, emails and notifications waiting for her; over ten hours since she was able to really check her phone, and Connie marveled at how work now distracted her from the device, and not vice versa. 

Several of the messages were from Camille Gutierrez, her friend from before Connie moved to Gotham, who moved there as well pursuing her acting career. Most of it was videos that Cam found funny, and others were updates on her life. Connie took the time to respond as appropriately as she could. 

“Hello, Caroline,” a voice said suddenly, and Connie jumped, jerking her eyes upward and swearing under her breath. Her gaze landed on Dr. Crane, thin and cold as always, looking down at where she sat. As her heart rate settled from the jump, Crane smiled. With one thin finger, he pushed his clear glasses up his nose, and regarded his frightened student with a remote intrigue.

“Dr. Crane!” Connie finally said once her thoughts were gathered. “Excuse my language.” 

Connie stood and gathered her bag, brushing herself off and straightening her shirt. 

“You’re early.” 

“Traffic wasn’t as bad as I was expecting.” 

Connie squirmed nervously in Crane’s presence, which brought him a mild form of delight. 

“No need to sit in the hall. Come inside.” 

Crane turned back into the classroom, and not wishing to be disrespectful, Connie followed. 

“How have you been enjoying my class, Caroline?” Crane asked as he walked to his desk. This was the most one on one discussion she had ever had with him, and her social anxiety crept in on her. She found her preferred seat in the class, a desk towards the front of the room where she could better see and hear the professor. It wasn’t directly next to Crane’s desk, but it was close enough that Crane could engage in conversation with her.

“I’m enjoying it,” she replied, clearing her throat. “I’m finding it insightful on behavior.” 

“Is that so?” He hummed. “Fear, I have found, is the most potent of neurological reactions. It is stronger than any other instinct.” 

“Even love?” Connie blurted, and when Crane looked up at her with an unamused expression, she regretted it. 

“What good is love to survival? And don’t say reproduction, because love is not needed for that.” 

“For other animals, love and reproduction coexist for a purpose, but not for humans.” 

Crane adjusted his glasses once more before looking at his computer. 

“Not exactly, of course,” Connie rushed to correct herself. “Love is objective and it’s not entirely known if animals feel love, except for like dogs, or maybe dolphins…” 

She laughed uncomfortably under her breath and sat back, curling in on herself. 

“Then tell me. Why do you suggest love?” 

“It- it gives people purpose. Without purpose, there is insanity. I think, uhm, at least. This is more philosophical, though…” Connie reached for her inhaler as she cleared her throat again. 

“And you think the need for purpose is stronger than fear?” 

“I think without purpose, there is no reason to fear anything.” 

Crane looked up at Connie again, leaning forward. 

“Interesting.” 

Silence fell as Connie’s mind raced and Crane studied his pupil. 

“What do you love, Caroline?” Crane asked carefully, breaking the silence. 

“I, uhm. I love my dog, for sure. And my family. And my friends.” 

Crane rolled his eyes. 

“Only living things that give you some sort of validation?” 

“I love my dog because seeing it happy makes me happy.” 

“You keep mentioning your dog.” 

“He’s not human. And I have nothing negative to connote to him.” 

“Do negative connotations negate love?” 

Connie thought over all that had happened in her life, the conflict and divisions and the fighting amongst her family, the distance and grief at missing her friends, the conflict and chaos that tore at her heart for years. At that moment, her pain of the past killed her social anxiety, and she winced.

“I’d rather not go over it. My dog is just an easy example.”

Her family was a weak point, and Crane took note of that. 

“Does your dog give your purpose?” 

“No,” Connie replied reluctantly. “But my dog makes the pay off of work sweeter.” 

“Then what gives you purpose?” Crane gave her one of those strange looks that only he seemed to give, that other students despised. 

“Helping others,” Connie replied steadily. “I can’t heal the world, but there are good people who don’t deserve to be in pain all the time.” 

“Like lunatics?” Crane smirked in amusement. 

“Like the people of Gotham,” Connie shot back, as politely as she could. “If I can understand fear, I can help others overcome it.” 

This elicited a small laugh from Crane, and he slowly removed his glasses. 

“Very well.” 

Other students began to arrive, and the rest of the class went on without anything unusual. She returned home, showered, took her medicine, and went to sleep. With her loyal Bernese pup curled up at her side, she felt safe, and at peace. Things were normal.

That was, until the next morning. She heard it on the news:

Harvey Dent had escaped Arkham.

Taglist: @arts-and-sharks @burnthashbrown27 comment or ask to be added to the taglist!

[amidstthemists]

My toxic trait is that no matter how many fandoms I immerse myself in, I always ALWAYS end up back to the Harry Potter and Batman fandoms somehow. Nothing feels more at home than Hogwarts and Arkham Asylum and, listen, I know that I’m the problem here

[motley-box-rose-1]

Summary: Astrid Arkham makes plans to kill Batman, forms a cult, and furthers the twisted legacy inherent to her bloodline. Not that she’s aware of the last part.

If Warren White cared enough he’d call it ironic, or maybe just stupidly grim. As it is, he mostly just wishes the Arkham Knight would stop feeding his closest associate the metaphorical kool-aid.

Characters: Warren White, Humphry Dumpler, Astrid Arkham, Jeremiah Arkham

Relationships: Warren White & Humphry Dumpler

Additional Tags: cults, brief description of human branding, institutional abuse, incompetent doctors, morally gray characters, bittersweet ending, unrealistic depictions of mental illness/hospitals, because it’s Batman (duh), friendship, minor hurt/comfort

————

My second ever publicly posted fanfic, partly inspired by Arkham Asylum: Living Hell and Detective Comics #1000- #1002 (2019), but mostly by the-ventriloquizt (AKA helloemptyset) who happens to love the same obscure Batman characters as me. I recommend checking out their *adorable* fanart. Link below

https://www.tumblr.com/the-ventriloquizt/667243434624548864/image-a-drawing-of-warren-white-aka-the-great