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E. Nygma, private investigator Chap1Edward Nygma was very bored. Sitting at his desk in his brand new office, his arms crossed and his hat hiding his eyes, the man was waiting for someone, something, to interrupt the heavy silence. The red-haired man had put aside his criminal activities. He had thought about it for a very long time; being a villain had been fun, but it often made him end up with broken ribs and bruises. The man hated having bruises; especially on his face. He was extremely proud of his good looks, and needed to feel handsome in order to be happy; thus, having a black-eye or a busted lip made him most unhappy.
The fact two other villains he knew had started t

E. Nygma, private investigator Chap1

by ~QuantumRainbows in Introductions & Chapters

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Demise of the Master of Fear Chap1DISCLAIMER : this is my very first fanfic. EVER. Meaning it can contain mistakes. I would very much appreciate feedback. Even if you comment only to tell me there's a grammar mistake somewhere, or to tell me a character is OOC, it would be very useful.
The main characters will be Jonathan Crane (the Scarecrow) and Becky Albright. The first chapter contains also the Joker and the Riddler. I might include the Mad Hatter at some point, if the story allows it. (I have no idea where this is going yet)
Batman and all related characters belong to the wonderful and amazing DC Comics. I'm only a fan that wished she owned them 

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The Crooked ManGranny Keeny had been a cruel woman, frail in body and hard in heart. Her temper was volatile and explosive, and Jonathan Crane had learned early in life that her anger was something to be avoided at all costs. The best way to do that was to remain out of her sight as much as possible, and so he spent his time outside of school hiding out in his room inside of Keeny Mansion, hunched over a book. He was content enough with this arrangement, accompanied by the likes of Poe, Kipling, and Shelley. His past time had to be kept secret, of course—Granny Keeny did not approve of such unholy vices as fiction and creative writing.
The exemption to this rule was nursery tales. Crane suspected that this was because so many stories featured misbehaving individuals gaining their comeuppance, often in a rather unpleasant manner. From the ages of two to ten, Granny Keeny would perform a nightly ritual of reading to Crane a story from a large, leather-bound book titled Nursery Tales.The Crooked Man7 months ago in Horror

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Pots and Kettles (Nine)NINE:
   "Yes," hissed the Scarecrow. Nigma began to struggle feebly, trying to pull away and tumbling down off the sofa in his efforts, but Jonathan's grip held.
   "Please don't," the ginger begged, eyes wide and desperate as he stared up at the Scarecrow, "Please don't, I can't--"
   The pathetic plea disappeared in a yelp of pain as the needle plunged into his neck.
   There were a few seconds of panting silence as the drug worked into his system. Then Nigma's pupils contracted to pinpricks as his eyes glazed over, his pale face twisted suddenly in an expression of terror and anguish.
    Scarecrow retreated to the dented folding chair a yard or so back to watch the show.
    "N-no," came the tremulous whisper, "No, it's not possible..." Great tears began to form in Nigma's distant eyes. "No, no, please, no, oh god..."
    Scarecrow watched, intriPots and Kettles (Nine)11 months ago in Drama

my fan-made live action JUSTICE LEAGUE story

The story takes place on modern times in which superheroes have only appeared within in the past five to eight years, and are viewed with at best, suspicion, and at worst, outright hostility. This was pointed out by G. Gordon Godfrey as he starts a hate-campaign against the so called "vigilanties" through his radio station.

On daylight at the Atlantic Ocean are groups of fisher men doing their work. Everything seems to be fine until they were attacked by a gigantic alien life form with a likeness of a starfish, which emerged from under their boats, destroying the boats in the process. This gigantic alien starfish reproduces smaller clones ofmy fan-made live action JUSTICE LEAGUE story9 months ago in Short Stories

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Once Upon a Time...Gather ye round, children. Are you sitting comfortably?
Good. Then stay, and hear the story of "The Scarecrow."
Once upon a time, there was a Scarecrow, born of screams.
A sickly thing, really. Unloved, unwanted, undesirable. Unworthy of life, to most.
But he was given it anyway, maintained by an evil Sorceress. Every day since the Scarecrow was born, the Sorceress reminded him that he was worthless, an abomination before God, and unworthy of life.
And when he was big enough, the Sorceress put him to work in the fields. The sun scorched him and flies bit at him without mercy. But he learned not to complain, not ever.
Complaining was bad.
And when he was bad, the Sorceress punished him dearly. She would order him to dress in his special suit as a symbol of her generosity. And then she would summon down a flock of crows to peck and claw at the poor Scarecrow, cawing and shrieking at him as though enraged by his misbehavior.
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Demise of the Master of Fear Chap26"Okay. So we're hiding behind this house. Now what ?" the young woman asked, kneeling behind a wall.
"Can't you hear ? They're having a party. We get in, gas everyone, then profit."
"How did you… How did you even know people would be having a party here ?"
He sighed. "It's the party the professors of the Gotham University give each year. Same location everytime, same date. It's the mansion of one of the professors, I think. They prefer to throw it here because some students could be in the uni during the holidays to revise for the upcoming exams, and they wouldn't want to bother them."
"Oh. Were you ever invited to that party ?"
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Group Therapy"Alright everybody, quiet, please—quiet—now, let's begin..."
Group therapy at Arkham Asylum was by no means a simple, uneventful affair. The hour-long sessions required no less than ten guards, each one equipped with an electric baton and a canister of mace, and covered head to toe in riot gear. No sharp objects were allowed in the room—no pencils, no pens. Crayons had previously been approved for use in art therapy, but after Joker drove a waxy stick of Tickle Me Pink into a therapist's eye the privilege had been revoked.
Finger-painting had been the next logical step and had lasted for precisely two sessions before Joker—who else—began to paint obscene drawings of Batman onto the walls with his fingertips, depicting the Dark Knight's demise in a variety of imaginative and colorful ways. The therapist at the time had encouraged this behavior, assuring the guards that the act was not one of defiance, but of expression and an eagerness to work throGroup Therapy3 weeks ago in General Fiction

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