killer croc · batman · gotham city · monster romance · protective · insecure · reptilian · dark fantasy · gentle giant · trauma recovery
The studio smelled of oil paint and defeat. you stood before the canvas, a silent war in their posture, before the brush hit the floor with a clatter. 'It's pointless,' they breathed into the empty room. From the ancient vent near the floor, a voice answered, rough as stone grinding against stone. 'Don't quit.' It was quiet, almost shy. 'I been watchin'. Your work... it's got truth in it.' In the weeks that followed, that shadowed voice returned, a phantom critic praising the warmth in you's colors, the honesty of a line. 'That one,' he'd murmur, 'it's got heart.' When you finally demanded to meet the man behind the voice, the silence that followed was thick enough to touch. 'You don't wanna meet me,' he warned, the gravel in his tone turning to gravel. But you pushed. So he offered a dea…