#nope!

you’ve found yourself more times than you can count sat in his lap in front of a small box fan on a hot summer’s day, stifling small giggles as you sloppily mash your lips together, the plump flesh of his lips sticking to the gloss that coats yours as the two matching barbells that reside on both of your tongues interlink for a brief moment.

or sitting atop the bathroom counter, cleaning his gauges for him as he stares at your newly stretched lobes, a very recent modification you had made to your body after seeing a cute set of gauges at the mall last week. you gave him the sweetest doe eyes you could muster up, insisting you had to do it since the shade of purple perfectly matched his irises. he almost fainted right then and there.

you’re currently trying to get him on board with the idea of his belly button being bejeweled like yours currently is. and he has to admit, the idea does appeal to him, but not as much as the thought of matching nipple piercings. he doesn’t know what would hurt more, a needle piercing through both of his tender peaks, or the raging boner you’d find him sporting at the mere glimpse of the newly adorned barbells pushing against your small tank top.

he supposes there’s only one way to find out.

Dangerous things more often than not, yes, but still in the line of strange to those outside of Gotham.

Of course, their strange has become their normal.

But sometimes, things that happen in Gotham just makes them stare. Sometimes.

Watching a man walk through the streets, chatting amicably and smiling like everything is right in the word while holding none other than Killer Croc in his arms, who is clinging onto his neck and carefully trying not to fall off while nodding to show he's listening while also pitching in here and there with a question or statement or whatever.

It's just.

Odd.

Even by their standards.