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Title - The Scarred (Chapter Eight)

Word Count - 2938

Fandom - Batman: The Dark Knight

Pairing - Ledger!Joker x OC

Summary - Penelope Bishop works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by therapy and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

Warning(s) - Minor errors, brief smut

Inspiration - Cold (Aqualung & Lucy Schwartz)

Masterlist

A/N - Hello, lovelies! I’m sorry for the later post, I’ve been going through a lot lately and I’m trying to get myself back on track... I tried to make it a little longer to make up for it ❣️

Penelope hesitated to unlock her door, in a way expecting The Joker to be behind it once again. Once it clicked she opened it slowly, a waft of lavender washing over her as she walked into her now empty home. Her brain was foggy, eyes sore. Mind racing with thoughts of the menacing clown, but one thing stood out the most.

She wasn’t entirely scared.

She thought about what Liam had said to her. To worry about why he was curious about her rather than what he said. He held her under a knife. He had every chance to kill her, take advantage of her somehow. Use blackmail, even. But he didn’t.

She remembered how he towered over her, at least a foot in difference. She remembered the overwhelming smell of gunpowder and gasoline, yet a hint of his own smell which she couldn’t pinpoint. The way he stared into her eye with an intensity that was almost unbearable.

She shook her head to clear it once she felt her face begin to heat up.

Stupid. Penelope mentally scolded herself and began her nightly routine, starting with her bandages as per usual. She thought about talking to Liam, but her body felt too drained after her appointment.

She was tired. Tired of breaking. Tired of worrying. Tired of living in fear. Of being humiliated, stomped on and cast out. Tired of crying. Just tired. The thought of having to wake up and do it all over again alone made her feel exhausted.

Penelope slipped under her blanket and turned off the lamp, yet she couldn’t bring her eye to close. She stared at the wall in front of her as if it was her lifeline. She stared until she lost the will to stare anymore, and that had always been frightening to her.

“J -“ The woman gasped. Her mind was clouded with the movement of his hands as they caressed her. Her mouth was parted, eye fluttered shut and head tilted back against her soft pillow as he guided her into oblivion. Their mixture of sweat and pants only ignited the atmosphere and he buried his head in her neck to lick a trail up to her jawline, earning a shiver beneath him. All too suddenly, she felt a sharp pain and her eye snapped open.

The space above her was now empty, her body covered in a mush of ash and sweat as the room grew brighter with flames. Quickly they became angrier, a more fierce heat enveloping her until it was just within her reach. It inched its way closer by the second, closer -

Penelope shot up with a shriek, gasping. She balled up the fabric of her shirt and coughed, a false hope to properly retrieve air. She ran a hand over her face and spun to sit on the edge of her bed, the only provided light was the moon that shone bright through her blinds from above its wooden frame. The lines drew themselves across her hunched figure, shoulders beginning to slow with the rise and fall of her every breath. She looked over at the alarm clock sitting on her nightstand.

3:00am.

Chewing on her cheek she reached for her phone and stared at it in thought. Her nimble fingers flipped it open and began searching through her contacts for her Irish friend. Penelope felt terrible. She felt like a nuisance, doing this from time to time. It wasn’t common, but it wasn’t uncommon, either. Her thoughts raced a few moments longer before she pressed the call button.

One ring. She bit down particularly hard, drawing blood. Maybe I shouldn’t do this.

Two rings. What if he gets irritated with me?

Three rings. Her heart picked up its pace, skipping a beat. I don’t want to upset him…

Four rings. I shouldn’t do this -

“Penny?” Her heart dropped at the sound of his groggy voice.

“Hey…” She whispered into the phone. “I’m so - I’m sorry, I don’t mean to bother you…”

“‘Ey, ye know it don’t bother me none.” He noticed Penelope's hesitation. “How ye, luveen?”

“Can I come over? I - I can’t sleep.” She heard him sigh from over the phone and squeezed her eyes shut. She knew she shouldn’t have called. She knew he would be irritated. She knew -

“I thought we were past ye havin’ to ask.” She could hear him rustling in his bed in the background. “Come on, then.”

The earthy smell of the apartment was what began to calm her down first. It was subtle, relaxing. Fitting for her friend, though he himself wasn’t quite subtle. Penelope laid the uncovered side of her face on one of the pillows of the queen bed, curled into herself protectively. She felt the bed dip behind her, followed by a stronger waft of that same smell.

Her heart began to slow just knowing that she wasn’t alone, knowing that she was with someone she trusted. It was something that Liam could provide more easily than Emma. He was just a couple of doors down while she lived twenty minutes out, so it had only been on more serious occasions that Penelope spent the night at her place. She decided to give Emma a break, just to push it on to Liam instead. And there was not one time that she didn’t feel guilty about it.

He stayed sitting up against the bed frame rather than lying down beside her. She could feel his stare as his hand gently tucked her short hair behind her ear, and it wasn’t until then that she closed her eye. What Penelope wasn’t aware of, however, was the turmoil that occurred in his own head.

He told himself that he was just doing his job, acting the part. That he didn’t truly care. That he wasn’t attached in any way, shape or form. And in the back of his mind, he felt guilt. Every hug he gave, every smile, every moment they shared. It just added on to one, big, chaotic lie. It was nothing new to him. He was a professional, after all. Yet this was different. This felt more personal. It stood out from all of the other jobs he accomplished in the past. That’s what concerned him the most.

-

“Don’t make another appointment. “

“I told her I would when -“

“Don’t make another appointment.” The brunette shot her a warning look. The acting mother could see the amount of conflict in her eye as it danced around the countertop. “You already know she doesn’t care, Penelope, why do you insist on wasting your money on a therapist who can’t even do their job!”

“I’ve told you why -“

“And I’m telling you it’s irrational!” The shop went silent. The tension was thick. It drowned out the ambience, the cars, the clock. Penelope’s vision blurred and she sniffed, running a hand through her hair to find something, anything, to do besides acknowledge the topic of discussion.

It was rare when Emma raised her voice, for them to bicker. But the woman had enough of seeing her friend suffering unnecessarily. She could tell that Penelope’s ‘therapist’ was doing more harm than good, and she was determined to put an end to it.

“Penny…” The softness of Emma’s voice did nothing to calm her down, but was needed when the tears spilled over. “I’m just -“ She sighed to recompose herself. “I’m just trying to help you, sweetheart.” Penelope sucked on her bottom lip and just nodded, trying to hold everything in. Emma took hold of her shoulders and gently pulled her in, her own eyes glazing over at the sound of her sobs finally breaking.

Once things started dying down the bell at the door went off and Emma snapped her head in its direction, only for her shoulders to drop when it was just Liam. His eyebrows scrunched together at the sight of them and he pointed to Penelope in a silent question. When Emma slowly shook her head he gave a knowing look and walked around the counter to join them, resting a hand on their mutual friend’s back.

“Liam?” Penelope sniffed.

“Aye.” His thumb began to rub against the thick material of her jacket and she sighed.

“What time is it?” Liam glanced at the watch on his wrist.

“Almost quarter ‘til five.” Emma looked between the two of them and offered Liam a small grin.

“I’ll let you go, Penny.” She whispered, causing the woman to look up with a large eye.

“But the -?” The brunette shook her head, still holding the same smile.

“It’s just twenty minutes, hun.” She giggled as Penelope pulled away.

“Okay…” She glanced over at Liam, then back at Emma. “Thank you…” Liam used the hand on her back to guide her out of the shop, keeping it there as he opened the passenger door of his car parked along the side of the road. “Where are we going, Liam?” She asked when they drove past their apartment building. He took a deep breath, gaze focused on the road.

“You’ll see.” He threw her a smirk before turning on the radio. She decided to leave it be and looked out of her window, chin resting in the palm of her hand as the city blurred by. She noticed how the further they drove, the darker the buildings became, how they looked more and more run down and abandoned.

“Liam?” The man hummed.

“Why are we in The Narrows?”

“Short cut?” He shrugged and a familiar body of water gradually came into view. Penelope grew more confused.

“I thought it was a weekend thing?”

“It is.” He parked the car and stepped out to open her door, helping her stand before shutting it. “I juss found somethin’ I thought ye’d like.” His long strides moved in the direction of a smaller building in the distance, no greater than the size of a small cabin. She had to trot a bit to catch up to him and he chuckled at the action. He jiggled his keys once he pulled them out and smiled when he inserted one in the lock of the door, twisting until they heard a ‘click’ to open it. The door squeaked as it pushed open and Penelope’s jaw dropped at the sight before her.

There was a strong smell of fresh wood and new furniture, and that was exactly what they had walked into. The exterior of the building was deceiving to those who walked by. It blended in perfectly. Rusty metal walls, finicky doors and broken windows. But it was all an illusion. Inside, the house was pristine. It was no larger than her current living space, if anything it was smaller with its studio layout, but it certainly was an upgrade. It held a darker tone with subtle yellow accents that were strategically placed. Nothing felt too extravagant nor too cheap. It was simply moderate.

“Didn’t take as long as I thought it would, to be completely honest.” The door shutting behind them helped Penelope come to. He watched her expressions, but he couldn’t decipher them.

“What is this?” The woman whispered in awe as she stepped further into the room.

“Erm -“ Liam made a face. “Consider it yer home away from home?” Penelope immediately whipped around to face him.

“Mine?!” Her friend reached for her good hand and slapped a set of keys into her palm, then forced it shut and patted it.

“That is what I said.” His mouth opened when he noticed a panic start to set in her eye.

“Liam, I can’t - what - how am I gonna pay for it?! This is too much!”

“Who said anythin’ ‘bout ye payin’ fer it?”

“Who is, then?” She noticed the look he gave her and she vigorously shook her head in disapproval. “No. No - you’re not paying for two places, Liam. That’s not -“ She let out an exasperated sigh and looked up at him with a pleading eye. “Liam…”

“Technically, my boss is payin’ fer it. I’m juss handlin’ the process.” Her eye squinted at him.

“Yeah, that’s - Liam, that’s how paychecks work.” Liam rolled his eyes and let out a short chuckle before spinning her around by her shoulders.

“Look around before it gets dusty.” Her fingers anxiously fiddled with the new keys as she curiously wandered around the place.

Everything seemed to be perfectly put together, exactly how she would’ve wanted it if she were to have decorated it herself. The cushions of the plush couch placed along a wall were soft, not too hard or too fluffy. Similar to her own apartment, a coffee table sat in front of it with a rug laid beneath both.

The small kitchen was the cleanest one she had ever seen with its stainless steel refrigerator and marble countertops. A petite walk-in closet was built in at the end of the counter containing jars of spices and various bottles of oils and sauces. Penelope already had an array of dinners and desserts planned out in her head with everything already stocked.

She continued to the back of the room and plopped onto the queen bed that was tucked away, a somewhat bland dark oak bed frame complimenting it along with two nightstands with matching lamps. Her head turned to the side towards the bathroom, protected by a privacy window that slid open as opposed to a wall. With a glazed eye her head moved back up towards the ceiling with a lopsided grin.

“Ye like it?” She heard Liam’s footsteps grow louder until they stopped at the end of the bed.

“I could get used to this…” She mumbled more to herself before she spoke somewhat louder to Liam. “I don’t know if I want to go back.”

“Ye don’t have to.” She shuffled over to allow him room to lie down next to her, now both of them staring up at the ceiling. “It’s a closer walk to the shop.” He attempted to convince her.

“But more dangerous.”

“Not if ye have a car.”

“You know I don’t have a car.” He shrugged.

“Juss a thought.” They then sat in the quietness of it all, thinking to themselves. Now this was a common occurrence. The two of them basking in the other’s presence to ease the day’s tensions. The moments of silence they had when they first started talking were awkward, at least for Penelope. But Liam, as extroverted as he was, had a way of easily sparking up a conversation should things start to go awry. He was her opposite. Her compliment. Where she failed, he succeeded and vice versa. It was the reason their relationship had grown so quickly, Penelope came to realize.

They always learned from each other and grew to understand the other person’s side of things. For one, Penelope taught him how peaceful silence really could be if chosen at the right time. Liam, on the other hand, taught her the difference between being rude and standing up for herself. She was slower at learning than he was, but he never blamed her or grew frustrated with her for it.

Liam looked over at Penelope, examining her before he spoke. “I need ye to promise me somethin’, Penny.”

“Yeah?” She then turned her own head towards him.

“Ye can’t tell no one else ‘bout this place.” Penelope sat up on her right elbow in curiosity, Liam following suit.

“Why’s that?”

“I mean fer it to be a safe haven fer ye.” He watched her expression grow soft, glossy with parted lips as she gradually realized what he meant. “If anythin’ should happen, Penny. Anythin’. Ye call me and we’ll come straight here. Or just run, if need be. I’ll know soon enough and come lookin’ fer ye.”

“What about Emma?” He began shaking his head before she could even finish. It confused her, sure, but she knew that there was more to why he did this. There was a reason no one else could know, and even if she didn’t know why, she knew it was important. So she decided to comply and keep her mouth shut.

She turned onto her knees and hooked her arm around his neck, hugging him as best she could. She could feel him tense at first before he grew acquainted with the feeling and returned it. He heard a heavy sniff from where her head rested against his shoulder and he pulled back slightly to look at her. He quickly realized that she wasn’t crying because she was troubled, she was crying because she was grateful. She couldn’t remember the last time someone went to this great of a length for her happiness, her protection, since the accident. It filled her with a melancholic feeling that she just couldn’t ignore.

“I promise.” Penelope finally answered with a gentle smile as Liam brought a thumb up to brush away her tears.

“Ye hungry?”

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Complete Masterlist

Ledger!Joker

"The Scarred" (Ledger!Joker x OC) - Penelope Bishop works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by therapy and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

Five Hargreeves

"Mary Mary" (Five Hargreeves x OC) - October 1st, 1989. Forty-Three infants were born to women with no previous signs of pregnancy. It was also the day of four-year-old Mariana Polakoff’s death. The world carried on, her mother being the only one left to grieve. But on one miraculous day, the little girl was spotted. But she was not how the world remembered her.

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"Mary Mary" Masterlist (On Hold)

Summary - October 1st, 1989. Forty-Three infants were born to women with no previous signs of pregnancy. It was also the day of four-year-old Mariana Polakoff’s death. The world carried on, her mother being the only one left to grieve. But on one miraculous day, the little girl was spotted. But she was not how the world remembered her.

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three (on hold)

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"The Scarred" Masterlist

Summary - Penelope Bishop works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by therapy and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine (in progress)

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The Scarred (Chapter Seven)

Title - The Scarred (Chapter Seven)

Word Count - 2125

Fandom - Batman: The Dark Knight

Pairing - Ledger!Joker x OC

Summary - Penelope Bishop works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by therapy and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

Warning(s) - Knives, light cussing

Inspiration - Cold (Aqualung & Lucy Schwartz)

Masterlist

The night air was gentle, forgiving as she walked the path upstairs. Her tired eye grew heavier with each step as she fiddled with the bunched up fabric of her turtleneck in an effort to keep herself awake. By the time she reached her floor she was practically sleepwalking, her feet almost sliding against the floor with what little energy she had left. When she reached the door she noticed that it was ajar and she huffed, lightly pushing it open.

“Liam, how many times-“

“Ah, there she is!” Penelope stilled after having slammed the door shut. Her head slowly turned to the direction of the unknown voice, face paling at the sight before her. “Just the girl I’m lookin’ for!” The green-haired crime lord stood at her counter, setting down one of her few glass jars a little too roughly for her liking.

“For a while now.” Her voice was as even as she could make it, unwilling to let him know how terrified she truly was. The man knocked over a salt shaker with a gloved finger.

“Y’know, I didn’t think they were being that serious when they said you were tiny,” The painted face licked at his scars, eyeing the woman. “They didn’t exaggerate nearly enough.” He watched as she stared at him with a blank expression, however he caught a light glimmer behind it and it brought a wide grin to his face. “Wow, you are an oddball, aren’t cha?” He began taking slow steps in her direction.

“You’re one to talk.” The Joker cackled, but it was far from genuine as he stopped just a few feet in front of her.

“It’s the scars, ain’t it?” He motioned to his mouth with a flailing wrist, but her eye stayed locked on his.

“Why are you toying with me?” Another laugh.

“Because you’re fun!” He suddenly stopped and she pressed herself further against the door, trying to make it as subtle as possible. “I like fun.” The Joker’s tone had been deeper, sending a chill down her spine. “Everyone else is so,” He paused, motioning with his hands with a gaze cast upwards as he tried to find his words. “Boring.” His blackened gaze met with hers once more and he stepped closer, forcing her to crane her neck to look up at him. “They’re all the same. Begging for their lives, strikin’ a bargain, but you,'' He poked at her shoulder. “You haven’t even bat an eye.”

“I suppose I’ve been expecting you.”

“Kept ya on your toes, hm?” He leaned closer, growing intrigued.

“You could say that.”

“After all those restless nights and here I am, still keeping ya on those toes.”

“The whole city is on their toes.”

“Oh, they should be. But you’ve had your little - ah - friend to lean on.” Anger flashed in her eyes and he swayed on his feet in excitement.

“There it is!” He turned away to walk further into her apartment. “For a moment there I thought you were, like, a sociopath or somethin’!”

“Like yourself?”

“I prefer creative.” The Joker turned around to face her again, pulling out a switchblade from his trench coat and flipping it open. “And I am creative.” He reached her faster than she could comprehend, cold metal held against her throat with just enough pressure as to not break the skin, but enough to where if she moved it surely would. His other hand pushed her into the door, placed against the top of her rib cage to have some form of control over her breathing. But she remained still. Patient. She looked him in the eye, daring him to do something. A challenge.

Her phone ‘ding’ed and her eye snapped to where her bag sat on the floor, the painted man’s own eyes never leaving her form. When she looked back at him he held a mischievous glint in his eyes that no one would be able to miss, then he suddenly removed the blade.

“Now, uh, I’m gonna leave so you can get back to your dear friend Liam,” The name was spat out in a mocking manner. Her eye widened ever so slightly and he backed away from her towards her window. “Very busy tonight! Hope you enjoyed your little - ah - birthday party.” He laughed as he crawled out onto the fire escape, the sound echoing in her ears.

She decided to wait a few minutes to ensure he had left to bolt towards Liam’s apartment, quickly yet quietly knocking on his door with a sense of urgency. It wasn’t until that moment that everything started to catch up to her, that her entire being started to shake and tremble, growing numb with fear. The door swung open and Liam’s eyes shot wide like saucers at the sight before him.

“Christ almighty!” He immediately grabbed her and pulled her inside, walking her in further to close the door. He held her firmly by her shoulders as she tried to catch her breath, her hand held limply next to her face in a poor attempt to calm herself.

“Liam, he c- he came -!”

“Penny.” Her friend tried to get her to focus.

“He - he was there, he -!”

“Penny!” She stopped babbling and looked up at him, a tear making its way down her cheek. “Who came?” Her breathing stilled for a moment.

“The Joker.” The woman immediately noticed the panic in his eyes, but he remained calm for her sake. Liam walked her over to the couch and sat her down, leaving to get a cup of water for her. She shook her head in refusal and he set it on an end table nearby. She squeezed his torso for comfort, tears streaming down her face as she continued to shake. He looked down at the carpet of the living room as she cried, hands wrapped protectively around her smaller form. When it all started to fade Liam decided to speak, voice gentle.

“‘Ow did he get inside?” He heard her take a shaky breath before giving him a muffled reply.

“My door was cracked open�� thought it was you.” He sighed.

“Penelope,” The Irishman felt her tense. “Wha’ did he do to ye?”

“He -“ She swallowed. “He put a knife to my throat.” Liam took a long, deep breath to compose himself while she pulled away and looked up at him. “And yet here I am.”

“I’m assumin’ tha’s not all?” Penelope sighed and laid her head back on his chest. She listened to his heartbeat to calm herself, regulating her breathing.

“I asked him why he was doing all of this.”

“And?”

“He said that I was fun.” Penelope snickered. “That everyone else is boring because they all say the same thing when he pays them a visit, I’m guessing.” Liam rubbed her shoulder.

“Well, now ye know yer juss really lucky.”

“Until he gets bored of me.”

“There’s too much to ye to get bored of ye, I’m afraid.” The woman lightly punched him in the gut and he chuckled.

“I’m serious, Liam.”

“So am I.” The man looked down at her with a look of adoration. “‘E’s right, ye know?” Penelope slowly sat up to look at him. “‘Bout erryone bein’ borin’. There’s so much I ‘ave yet to learn ‘bout ye, an’ I know I’ll never know errythin’ ‘cause there’s always gon’ be somethin’ new wit’ ye. Erryone else I’ve met?” Liam scoffed. “Gimme a week wit’ em’ an’ I’ll know errythin’ there is to know. There’s no secrets, no adventure, no thrill. Ey!” Penelope made a noise and he gave her a warning look to show he was being serious. “Yer unpredictable. An’ tha’s exactly wha’ ‘e thrives fer. Tha’s why ‘e said yer fun.” Liam pointed a finger at her. “If I were ye, I wouldn’t be worryin’ ‘bout ‘im sayin’ yer fun. I’d be worryin’ ‘bout why he’s worried ‘bout ye bein’ fun.” Her brow twitched in both confusion and curiosity, lips parted.

—————————————————————-

“Penny?” The woman cast her eyes from her journal towards Emma, noticing her concerned expression.

“Hm?” Penelope sucked on her lip.

“You okay?” Emma noticed her eye glance off to the side. “You seem bothered.” Holding the same expression, she replied.

“I’m fine.” Her tight lipped smile was of no consolation to her friend. The brunette gently placed a hand over Penelope’s that gripped a pencil.

“Penny.” The woman in question gave a quick sniff.

“Just thinkin’ about that customer.” Emma sighed and took a seat on the stool beside her.

“He’s not going to bother you again, hun. He got what he came for. What’s done is done. Okay?” She gave Penelope an encouraging smile, but she wouldn’t take it.

“How are you so sure? How -“ She took a breath and fidgeted in her seat. “How do you know he won’t do anything?” Emma sighed again, but it had been more solemn.

“Truthfully?” She leaned back a little and folded her hands in her lap. “I don’t. But if he tries anything, then I’ll settle for smashing a pot over his head.” Emma then stood up and headed to the back room leaving Penelope to herself. She closed her journal and began to chew on her cheek in thought, tapping her pencil against the leather cover.

The smaller woman sat in the waiting room of a smaller building, heart pounding against her chest as her leg bounced. Her eye burned into the carpet. Maybe she should listen to Liam. She thought on all he had told her about The Joker, how he spoke about him as if he truly knew the man. Yet something about all he said made sense, made her want to listen to him. Made her want to understand him. She heard a door creak open and peaked to see her therapist waving her inside.

“Miss Bishop.” The older woman greeted as they both took their seats. “Last time I saw you we talked about your habits, correct?” She watched her patient nod her head. “Have you reflected on that at all?” She was met with silence as Penelope met her eyes.

“You never asked me to reflect.” She mumbled.

“Well, I assumed you would after I mentioned them to you.” The therapist’s tone had grown passive aggressive and it hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Perhaps I should use a more direct approach this time.” She opened the notebook on her desk and began jotting down some notes. “Can you think of any off the top of your head, then? Maybe we can branch off from that?” At that moment, something instantly popped into Penelope's head.

You keep biting your cheek like that, you won’t have one to bite on.

“I bite my cheek.” The pen scribbled down her words.

“And what do you think is the reason?” Penelope took a long, shaky inhale and begrudgingly looked at the grey haired woman. She couldn’t explain why, but when she met her eyes she felt frustration. Pain.

“Ms. May, if I’m not mistaken, you're my therapist. Not my psychiatrist. You know my diagnosis. You’re supposed to provide resources to help me, not make me question my own behaviors and feel bad about them.” The woman moved to speak, but Penelope continued, voice growing more and more unstable. “You’re supposed to be a shoulder for me to cry on, someone I can trust. Someone who cares for me.” Water pooled along Penelope’s water line, leaning forward in her seat. “I’m trying not to think about my problems and yet you expect me to assume that you want me to ‘reflect’ on my habits outside of therapy knowing it would make me think even more about what the hell is wrong with me?” She watched as her therapist continued writing down notes and a wave of rage hit her. “Stop writing and listen to me!” Penelope cried out, tears finally falling.

Everything in the room stilled as the atmosphere thickened, and once Penelope was sure she had her attention she continued.

“I dread these sessions because I know you don’t care. Because I know I won’t get anything out of it. I’m just here to answer your questions so you can write your notes. But please. Give me something. Help me.” They held eye contact for a few moments and Penelope could see the hesitation in Ms. May’s eyes. Then she sighed.

“I can prescribe you medication. That’s the quickest way.” Penelope let out a breathless laugh in disbelief, looking away in disappointment. She quickly wiped off her cheek and stood up.

“I’ll schedule another appointment when I’m ready.”

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The Scarred (Chapter Six)

Title - The Scarred (Chapter Six)

Word Count - 1281

Fandom - Batman: The Dark Knight

Pairing - Ledger!Joker x OC

Summary - Penelope Bishop works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by therapy and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

Warning(s) - None

Inspiration - Cold (Aqualung & Lucy Schwartz)

Masterlist

A/N - Thank you for the kind comments, they mean so much to me ❣️❣️ This is a bit of a filler chapter, I guess. I promise the next one will be more juicy ;)

“Let’s get ye home, yah?” Liam spoke softly after she had calmed down somewhat. He guided her with a hand on her back, eyeing the van knowingly as they walked past it. Penelope sniffed and placed her hands in her pockets, head kept down in shame.

“I’m sorry.” Penelope whispered after a few moments. Liam’s head whipped in her direction.

“Fer what, exactly?” She sniffed again.

“I’m not usually like this. You just met me at a bad time.” Her head lifted and she gave him a delicate smile. Only a fool wouldn’t fall to their knees at the sight of it, her large eye glistening under the street lights. It was child-like. Innocent in every way, but at the same time far from it. Its complexity fascinated him.

“Depends on ‘ow ye look at it.” She stared up at him as he looked forward once more. “The way I see it, I think I met ye at the best time.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Not to toot me own horn, but tha’s twice I’ve helped ye in what seems lie’ a crisis. I mean,” he threw his arms up in a joking manner. “What in God’s name would ye ‘ave done without me?” The comment made her chuckle and he joined in with her. It was a relief. A much needed one, at that.

It took her by surprise that as the weeks passed, he was able to make her feel so comfortable. To make her feel so secure, so safe with him. Even after he killed someone in front of her, claiming it was for her own safety. There was an aura around the man that drew her to him and she wore it like a blanket to keep her calm. She wasn’t attracted to him, no. He was handsome, charismatic. Charming, even. But what she felt was a deep admiration. As if he was a brother.

Liam made his way to Penelope’s door, rapping on it a few times to make his presence known. He folded his arms over his chest and looked over to where he heard echoing footsteps, seeing a taller brunette making her way over to him with furrowed eyebrows.

“Hi?” The woman questioned him in curiosity.

“Who might ye be?” Her eyes widened.

“Irish?” She made a sound of approval and nodded her head. “Emma. I’m stealing Penelope for tonight.” She spoke dominantly, winking at him with a smirk.

“Are ye two-?” He clinked his index fingers together.

“No! No. If anything, I thought you two were.” She laughed. “I’m married.”

“Well, tha’s never stopped anyone.”

“So you two are a thing?”

“Wha-?”

“You didn’t deny it.” She shrugged with a chuckle.

“She’s a good friend o’ mine.”

“Oh! Are you Liam?” She exclaimed in excitement.

“Aye. Tha’s me.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “Mentioned me, ‘as she? I should feel special.”

“You should. Took me years to get to where you are with her now.” Emma’s voice grew softer. “Takes a certain person to get her to trust so quickly-“ The door whipped open and the two snapped their heads towards the woman in the doorway.

“Speak o’ the devil.” Penelope looked between the two of them with a wide eye. Liam’s eyes quickly scanned over her, looking between her and Emma. “Wha’s the occasion?”

“Am I not allowed to dress nice every once in a while?”

“Juss different seein’ ye without the baggy clothes.” He gestures with his hands.

“She’s visiting my family for dinner. And you look stunning, hun.” Emma gave Penelope a warming smile while Liam practically gawked.

“Well, I suppose I’ll leave ye to it.” He began to walk off when Penelope stopped him, voice holding just a trace of concern.

“Was there something you needed?” He turned and looked back at her.

“Nothin’ of importance.” Liam gave her a tight smile before heading back to his own apartment. Once he was gone Emma looked over at Penelope and wiggled her eyebrows, earning herself a nudge to her shoulder.

—————————————————————-

“How is it?” The man of the hour asked, a bright smile complimenting his eagerness.

“Amazing!”

“Good, good! I’m glad you like it.” The atmosphere was comforting, save for Alice’s occasional glare from across the dining table. The two story house was elegant, however not exaggerated. It was warm and the perfect size for their smaller family. The different shades of browns and greens were appealing to the eye, none too bright or too dark. “I hope Gotham’s treating you well? No trouble?” Penelope lightly shook her head.

“Thanks to Emma, it is.”

“And Liam.” The brunette coughed under her breath. Penelope shot her a look and she giggled.

“Who?” Penelope opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off.

“A guy friend she has.” There was a mixture of ‘ooo’s and gasps among the room and Penelope felt her face start to warm.

“Boyfriend.” Alice chirped in. While Emma laughed along thinking it was all just fun, Penelope’s jaw tensed. Thankfully it went unnoticed.

“Really?” Emma’s mother spoke excitedly.

“Nah, we’re just messing with her. But she does have a friend she’s been hanging out with.” Emma died down the situation, noticing her friend’s discomfort. They mingled into the later night, indulging themselves in a glass or two of champagne after having cake and watching Emma’s father open presents. Penelope stepped out into their backyard once things had grown more rowdy. She took a deep breath and closed her eye to calm her increasing heart rate when she heard the door slide open from behind her. She turned to see Alice’s husband step out to join her.

“Needed a break?”

“Yeah.” Penelope mumbled, looking back out to the fenced in yard, rubbing her left arm.

“I feel ya.” He chuckled as he pushed his hands into his pants pockets. “This ’guy friend’. You like him?” Penelope began to chew on her cheek.

“As a friend, yeah.” He nodded.

“You trust him?”

“With my life.” She examined the man stood beside her. “Why?”

“Gotham’s why.” It wasn’t until then that he looked at her. He noticed the look she was giving him and sighed. “It’s good to have someone you trust in a city like this. Someone to protect you.”

“Give me a gun and I’ll protect myself.” She quirked her brow at him.

“I’m not just talking about physically-“ The door slid open again and Alice peeked her head out.

“Babe, we should get going.” The addressed man nodded and gave Penelope one last look before heading inside. Alice sent her her signature glare before closing the door once more.

[j-wont-stop]

The Scarred (Chapter Five)

Title - The Scarred (Chapter Five)

Word Count - 2156

Fandom - Batman: The Dark Knight

Pairing - Ledger!Joker x OC

Summary - Penelope Bishop works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by therapy and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

Warning(s) - Panic attack, murder, cussing

Inspiration - Cold (Aqualung & Lucy Schwartz)

Masterlist

The vase fell from her hands, the shattering glass echoing through the hall. Penelope’s mind grew petrified as she stared at the card sitting in the mess of glass, water and flowers. She fell back against her door frame, her breathing sharp and fast as she began to hyperventilate. She gripped onto the front of her bra to pull it away from her chest, looking for any kind of relief, any way to find space for her to breathe properly. Yet it did nothing. She knew she was making a scene, and she wanted so badly to hide away in her apartment. But what about the mess? She asked herself amid the chaos. Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out the ambience around her.

“’Scuse me-?” Penelope shot straight up, eye frantically darting towards the new voice. A tall, slim man stood before her, hands held out in front of him as an offering of peace. “Apologies, I didn’ mean to alarm ye. Are ye alrigh’?” His bright eyes held a gentleness in them, the same as his voice. It was soothing in a way she had never before experienced. It was hardly able to calm her, however, in her panicked state. “Righ’, dumb question��” He mumbled to himself, glancing between Penelope and her welcome mat. “I’ll clean this up righ’ quick fer ye, tha’ alrigh’?” She gave the smallest nod, letting go of her bra to wipe the tears from her face as he disappeared.

She closed her eye, grounding in an attempt to compose herself. Never had she broken down in front of a stranger. And never had she felt more humiliated by it. Her eye snapped back open when she heard the sound of a plastic bag, eyeing the man warily as he walked back to start picking up the glass shards. He noticed how her breathing had only slightly improved, but it was progress.

“Why are you helping me?” The sound of her voice caught him off guard as he continued picking up the pieces.

“Juss doin’ my duty.”

“In Gotham?” The man sighed and looked up at her from where he was crouched on the floor.

“‘Ard as it is to believe, miss, not erryone in this city is a crook.” It wasn’t until then that she noticed his thick accent. It was a surprise to her, however one she greatly accepted. She felt childish for it, but she was excited as it was her first time meeting someone with one. “Ye wann’ keep this?” He asked, holding the Joker card between his index and middle fingers. She hesitated before reaching to grab it. “Now, I’m not all tha’ superstitious,” He stood up with a huff. “But if tha’ is a genuine Joker card, I’d watch out if I were ye. Yer either really lucky, er ‘bout to be really dead.” He noticed the growing fright in her eyes. “Or! Some guy is juss actin’ the maggot and playin’ wit’ ye.”

“People were scared enough to impersonate Batman, I don’t think they’d dare to impersonate The Joker himself.”

“Then pray yer juss really lucky.” He spoke in a softer tone. He began to tie the bag as she continued to carefully watch him. “I don’t believe I’ve caught yer name yet?”

“Penelope.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “Bishop.”

“Penelope?” The name left his lips in curiosity. “Tha’s a new one.” Her eye shifted to the ground. “Bu’ it’s refreshin’.” The man offered her a friendly smile, but her expression remained constant. “Liam Garson. Juss moved in couple a doors down.” He pointed off to his left.

“Why?” He threw her a confused look. “I mean, why Gotham?”

“Oh!” Liam chuckled. “Well, why not? Barely any restrictions with the mob and cops runnin’ ‘round lie’ chickens wit’ their ’eds cut off. Sure, muggers an’ the lie’ crawl abou’, but tha’s the price ye pay fer freedom, righ’?” He contained himself from beaming when she gave the ghost of a smile.

“Well, I see where your morals lie, Mr. Garson.”

“Liam.” He jested. “An’ I may lack some, but I’m better off than over ‘alf the boyos ‘ere.”

“’Boyos’?” Penelope gave a small chuckle.

“Males, juveniles, youngins.” She nodded in understanding. “Well, I’ll let ye be. Juss wanted to check on ye and make sure ye were alrigh’.” He started to back away. “If ye need anythin’, I’m in 329.” With a final salute, he disappeared into his own apartment. Penelope slowly turned around to head into her own, closing her door softly.

She looked down at the card caught in her nimble fingers. She couldn’t help the jolt that rushed through her body when she realized that if it was his card, he knew where she was. He knew who she was. She was somebody to him and she wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or terrified. It made her start to question her own morals. Any other person wouldn’t even think to be flattered, so why would she?

He was a murderer, a psychopath who wanted nothing more than to watch the city burn. And yet she had half a mind to consider being flattered. Really lucky or really dead. Why would she be dead? Had she angered someone without her knowing?

She froze.

“The boss.” She whispered to herself in realization. The bald man worked for The Joker. Which meant he knew where she worked. How much else did he know? Who all knew? How many people were following her? Question after question ran through her head and it was almost unbearable. She didn’t know what she even did to be on his radar in the first place.

“-patrolling the streets trying to trace his whereabouts for the time being, but so far-“ The news anchor’s voice hummed softly from her TV and she practically ran over to it, snatching the remote from the coffee table to turn up the volume.

“Well, John, I think it’s safe to say that The Joker’s escape is truly devastating for the people of Gotham. Not only in the sense that he has escaped, but it gives the chance for other criminals to wreak havoc on the city knowing that Batman will once again be busy with him.” The woman on the other line spoke. Penelope scoffed at her words.

“Way to give them ideas.” She mumbled to herself with a wide eye.

“Let’s just hope that Batman is able to do what he does best, and fast. Cause-“ Penelope switched the TV off, having heard enough of it. It upset her that the city was putting their faith in a masked man, that none of them had the nerve to do something themselves. That they couldn’t even rely on their own first responders. That she couldn’t rely on first responders.

She began to peel off her bandages, dragging her feet towards her bathroom. So much had happened in only a week and it all started to catch up to her, her head starting to pound from it all. The note. The glass. The bald man offering her a large sum of money for just a vase of flowers, finding out he worked for The Joker, finding out The Joker had been tracking her for who knows how long.

Penelope reached into her medicine cabinet for pain killers, deciding on taking two with a glass of water. Finally she laid down on her bed, snuggling up to her great fuzzy blanket with her eyes closed in an attempt to fall asleep. She briefly thought about telling Emma, but if she truly was dealing with The Joker, she wanted her involved as little as possible. For her safety. She thought to herself in reassurance before sleep took over.

———————————————————————

The sounds of rushing water and seagulls filled the air around her, the occasional pair of footsteps passing by that she grew wary of from time to time. The sun began to disappear in the horizon, painting the sky with breathtaking shades of pink and orange on the rare cloudless evening. Music played softly from her phone that sat on one side of her, her dinner left half eaten on the other. Her short legs dangled lightly over the ledge as she watched from the pier. It was almost tradition on warmer nights, seeing it as a rarity. It would’ve been perfect if it wasn’t for the littered concrete and occasional plastic bag that floated by as a reminder of where she was. Along with the gun that clicked from behind her.

“I’d say just jump and save me the work, but then I wouldn’t get your money.” A gruff voice spoke. She didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare turn her head or flinch a finger. Her heart rate picked up, stomach churning. “Well?” The man urged, losing patience.

“I-I don’t have any.”

“How’d you get that nice dinner, then, huh?”

“Been saving up for it.” A lie. The man just chuckled.

“Alright. How about you get off of there, put your hands up, and then face me. Slow.”

“I-I can’t.”

“You can’t?”

“I can’t raise my hands.” She told him as she awkwardly turned around on the ledge.

“Alright, enough talking-“ The man halted, red quickly seeping through his jacket. Blood dribbled down his chin. She watched in horror as he collapsed.

“I agree.” Penelope looked up to see the man who had helped her the day before. He walked around the mugger towards her, bloodied switchblade in hand. When he saw her flinch he slowed his pace, tucking away the weapon to make her more comfortable.

“Y-you just-“ She spoke frantically, pointing towards the now dead body with a shaky hand.

“Killed a man?” She nodded quickly. He tilted his head dismissively. “Aye. The bastard ‘ad it comin’.” She shied away from him as he took a seat next to her, arms folded. “Relax, miss. I juss saved yer life, did I not?” He looked over at her to see her chewing on her cheek.

“Why?”

“‘Why’ what? Why did I do it-?”

“Yes.” He hesitated for a moment.

“Why not?” The man shrugged. “Was either he killed you or I killed ‘im, an’ I wouldn’t dare let such a beautiful woman go to waste lie’ tha’.” Penelope scrunched her nose and scoffed.

“Beautiful woman…” She mumbled to herself. “If you think I’m easily won over by flattery, you’re wrong.”

“With all due respect, miss, I wasn’t talkin’ ‘bout fer meself.” The brunette noticed her eye take on a more gentle stare. He sighed, scratching at his beard.

“Why’re you here?” She asked, rubbing her left arm.

“I could ask ye the same question.” Penelope looked at him quizzically.

“Dinner.” Liam nodded.

“Was on a walk. ‘Eard the ruckus. Came to see what was ‘appenin’.”

“That’s quite a coincidence.”

“Aye. It sure is. A damn good one, if I do say so meself.” Silence fell between the two of them, however it was peaceful. Penelope quite enjoyed it. “If ye don’t mind me askin’,” Liam broke in. “What do ye plan on doin’ wit’ this Joker business? Assumin’ it’s not too late already. I mean, ‘ave ye told anybody?” She shook her head, focusing on her breathing.

“I haven’t.” Penelope swallowed as Liam raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Ye ‘aven’t? Well, why not? Not even the cops?”

“What’ll they do?” She finally looked up at him. “What will they do? You’re the one that was saying yesterday that they’re all running around like chickens with their heads cut off.“ She began to rant, everything starting to catch up to her. Her eye began to glisten as it watered over. “And if they can’t help me, who can? Certainly not Batman!“ She spit the masked man’s name with venom. “They couldn’t even keep him behind bars to keep the city safe! Why the hell would they care to keep The Joker from coming for just a single person, a nobody, from coming for me-!”

“Miss!” Liam held onto her shoulders, keeping her steady. In a moment of desperation, she clung to him, and once again she caught him off guard as she started to break down for the second time. He began to gently stroke her back and sighed. “Ye’ve been dealing wit’ this a while now, ‘aven’t ye?” He spoke just above a whisper and he felt a shift in her head, a confirmation. A van sat in the distance, tinted windows making it impossible to see through. It was cracked enough for him to see who was in it and he made eye contact with a pair of almost pure black eyes, giving them a faint nod.

[j-wont-stop]

The Scarred (Chapter Four)

Title - The Scarred (Chapter Four)

Word Count - 2002

Fandom -  Batman: The Dark Knight

Pairing - Ledger!Joker x OC

Summary - Penelope Bishop works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by therapy and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

Warning(s) - Light cussing, flashbacks/nightmares, smoking

Inspiration - Cold (Aqualung & Lucy Schwartz)

Masterlist

A/N - Sorry for the later post, I’ve been on 12 hour shifts lately and it’s messing up my schedule :/

“The hell is happening?” Penelope whispered to herself as she stared with a wide eye. She carded a hand through her hair, unsure of what to do, what to think. Whoever was behind this, they were intelligent. Patient and calculative. It frightened her. It frightened her and yet she hadn’t even met the person. That was the most unnerving part about it all.

Her hands moved to pick up the larger shards to throw away, then to grab the broom and sweep the rest. She scrambled to look through every hatch, every door, cabinet and closet for anything that might have been left behind. Yet there was nothing. Once more, the only sign that someone had been there was the face that had been cleared already. There was no lingering smell, not even a hair.

“Okay,” She muttered. “Okay-okay.” Her mouth rambled on as she carried out her night routine, heart pounding faster than she would have appreciated as she tried to relax under the warm stream of water. Her feet padded against the cold tile as she tended to her scars, pacing the small room before throwing on her pajamas. She raced to her jacket, fumbling through the pockets for her phone and shuffled through her contacts. The coldness of it rested against her ear as she chewed on her cheek, wiggling the fingers of her left hand absentmindedly.

“Penny?” The familiar voice made her perk up. “What’s up?”

“I just needed someone to talk to…” The woman practically whispered. She made her way to lay on her bed, listening attentively to the shuffling in the background over the phone.

“Oh, ’course, hun,” Emma had an underlying tone of understanding in her voice. “Did everything hold up okay at the shop?” Penelope thought back to the bald man.

“Yeah-everything went fine. Sold three vases.” She started fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

“Three? That’s amazing!”

The voices echoed in the auditorium, the petite woman messing with the tassel that hung from her head. Everyone migrated to their families after having all walked the stage, visiting friends from time to time to say their goodbyes or reminisce in their memories. The woman searched for a familiar brunette bun, but her height made it all the more difficult.

“Penny!” She turned to face the voice, but was soon met with engorging flames. They towered over them all, everyone screaming and scattering in a panic. “Penny!” The voice screeched again, but no matter how many times she spun around and searched, she couldn’t find them. She started sweating profusely, both from the heat and stress of it all. Flames licked her skin, almost teasing it before it grew volatile.

Penelope’s eye snapped open, breathing heavily. Her hair stuck to her skin from the cold sweat she was left in. She laid there for a moment or two, collecting herself as best as she could. She listened to the wind humming through her window, the birds chirping as the sun’s first rays peaked through the clouds. She closed her eye again, imagining the bird. What kind of bird it was, what it was doing. Perhaps it was a swallow? It’s boring, brown feathers smooth as they glided and fluttered. The curious black eyes that fidgeted as it cocked and turned its head.

She took deep breaths, opening her eye once more to sit herself up on the edge of her twin bed. She stared at the soft carpet below her, loathing herself for waking up at such an ungodly hour. The faintest shade of blue colored the sky if she were to squint. Penelope then stood, stumbling over to her dresser to change out of her now drenched sleepwear. She thought about taking a quick heat dump to cool her off, but the amount of energy it took for her to get in the shower right now made her shudder, so she settled with splashing cold water on her face instead.

She trudged into the living room to her box TV, turning it on and having the low noise of the news play in the background as she migrated to the kitchen. She decided to simply pop an egg sandwich from the freezer into the microwave, pouring herself a glass of milk to go along with it. She bounced when she plopped onto the couch, pulling the lap blanket from the top of it to wrap herself up in. Her eye stared at the screen with a bored expression, heavy as she watched.

With how consistent the news was it was a wonder to her how it was never a rerun. The same news anchor, the same monotone voice with the same type of news. A new murder case, Bruce Wayne’s next trip to an extravagant venue, cloudy skies with an expected drizzle all week. None of it came as a surprise to her anymore.

Crime rates continued to slowly increase, the mob being thrown into a tizzy ever since The Joker showed up. Little changed since he was caught and put in Arkham. If anything, the people just grew into a rampage once they found out what had happened to their newfound idol. Penelope would be lying, however, if she said she wasn’t intrigued. From what she had seen on the news and heard from around the city, he was a very finicky person. He seemed so clumsy and careless, yet was always the one in control. No one could ever predict what he would do next, keeping everyone on their toes at all times.

She somewhat felt bad for the first responders who seemed to just be ragdolled from one end of the city to the other or thrown into ever frequent traps when he was out and about. She couldn’t deny that the thought of it made her snicker, wondering how they hadn’t learned their lesson the first few times. How they thought that The Joker being locked up would put their minds at ease. It was all a joke.

A vibration sounded from her phone and she looked to where it buzzed on the coffee table, the green icon showing that she had received a message. She reached over and picked it up, flipping it open in curiosity.

I’m stopping by Gotham Coffee. Want anything?

Emma. Penelope smiled at her phone, fingers moving to reply when another buzz went off. An unknown number, and all that was sent was the number twelve. That was all she needed to know who it was.

———————————————————————

The two women sat at the counter, sipping casually from their now cold coffee cups as they made small talk. Emma noticed how tense Penelope had seemed when she first entered the shop, what with her stiff posture and gaze cast down on the floor more so than usual, so it was a relief to see her smile a little more the longer they talked. They had just finished with one of their many giggle fits when the bell of the shop went off, cutting it short. Their heads snapped to the front and Penelope’s stomach dropped, mouth suddenly dry.

Once again, the light of the shop reflected off of the bald man’s head as his eyes focused on her own. With every step he took she felt as if she just shrunk smaller and smaller. It wasn’t until he stood directly in front of them that she shot up from her seat, scrambling into the back room to grab the vase she previously prepared. Her multitude of tiny footsteps echoed from the back as Emma and the man practically held a staring contest, the latter holding a sickly sweet smile. When Penelope emerged from the back room with the vase her arms shakily handed it to him, sucking on her bottom lip anxiously. With how rough he seemed, the gentleness with which he handled the vase amused her. But she wouldn’t dare show it. Emma looked over at Penelope as soon as he left.

“Was he one of the three vases?” She quipped, quirking an eyebrow. Penelope took a deep breath in, then casted her a sheepish smile.

“Four.” Emma stood to throw away their coffee cups. “He paid yesterday. Said he was picking it up at noon today.”

“How much?” Penelope’s mouth started to water, mouth faltering as she tried to form a response.

“Just twenty-five.” Emma, always having been good at reading people, knew she was being lied to, but for her friend’s sake decided not to push. She knew that if Penelope ever held something back, she did so for good reason. She just chuckled.

“How was it when he ordered it?” Her voice took on an amused tone. “‘Begonia and baby’s breath, please’.” She mocked the man, driving the two of them back into a giggling fit. They wasted the day away talking, trying to busy themselves one way or another until the end of the day. The last hour was the hardest. In silence they sat and watched the grandfather clock tucked away in a corner. Yet it only worsened their predicament.

Fridays had always been slower than any other day, and it was on Fridays that they truly realized that time was never on their side. When they had fun, it flew by. When they wanted something to just be over with, it dragged on. It was cruel. Time was cruel. Life was cruel. Penelope knew these things. So when the clock sounded at the hour they were out the front door, Emma locking up the shop and tossing Penelope a smile. They gave each other their ‘goodbye’s and ‘have a good weekend’s and made their way back to their respective homes. The city was in chaos, full of eager citizens who all wanted the same thing as Emma and Penelope. Some had already made their ways into their local bars, choosing to drown out their lives or celebrate simply because they made it through another week.

As for Penelope, she sat on the edge of her open windowsill and watched. A cigarette balanced between her lips as she struck a match and lit the end of it, shaking it out as she breathed in the all-needed nicotine. Her weekly treat. She rested her head on the wall beside her, the buzz starting to get to her after a significantly larger inhale. She stared out at the scenery in wonder, mind finding its first moment of peace since the last time she had a smoke.

Then a sudden knocking on her door jolted her from her spot, the stick nearly falling from her mouth. She quickly put it out in the ashtray next to her and climbed down to close her window, bare feet skittering across the floor. She stood on her tip-toes to look through the peep-hole, yet no one stood at the door. She unlatched it and opened it cautiously, peeking through until something caught her eye. She opened the door a bit wider to see a familiar vase sat on top of her welcome mat. Her vase. She noticed something dangling off to the side and delicately picked up the flowers to see what it was, and what she saw made her heart make its way to her throat. A playing card. A Joker card dangled from the vase.

[j-wont-stop]

Mary Mary (Chapter Two)

Title - Mary Mary (Chapter Two)

Word Count - 1063

Fandom - The Umbrella Academy

Pairing - Five Hargreeves x OC

Summary - October 1st, 1989. Forty-Three infants were born to women with no previous signs of pregnancy. It was also the day of four-year-old Mariana Polakoff’s death. The world carried on, her mother being the only one left to grieve. But on one miraculous day, the little girl was spotted. But she was not how the world remembered her.

Warning(s) - Near sexual assault

Inspiration - I Just Died In Your Arms (Hidden Citizens)

A/N - This is set after season two, but instead of the Sparrow Academy appearing, everything is back to normal. Five is also physically 22 for reasons later on in the story.

Soft chattering filled the room, glass clinking together and silverware scraping against dishes sounding in the background. She stared at the glass of water that sat in front of her, the ice cubes and vibrant slice of lemon floating delicately, timelessly. A hand reached her field of view to set down a plate of fish and chips. She looked up at the waiter and he offered a smile, but all he received was a glare through her lashes in return. The faint red hue that surrounded her eye sockets just added to the level of discomfort he felt and a chill ran down his spine. He didn't show his discomfort until he turned away, too frightened to even risk offending her somehow.

She continued to stare at the man conversing with who she assumed was his mother that worked the counter. The woman's face flushed when she noticed the girl still staring at them, feeling a sense of relief once she turned to her food.

"So judgmental." Dascal commented from beside her.

"It's quite intriguing." She spoke softly as she started to pick at her food, the door to the diner chiming. He raised a brow in question. "Most people barely know themselves, yet spend so much time on others."

"Well you're not wrong, dear one." Mary chuckled. "Humored?"

"By them." Dascal nodded in agreement, letting out a few chuckles of his own.

"It seems you have an admirer." Without looking up, the used to be child let a faint smile reach her lips, but it was deceitful.

"It would seem so." She mumbled and raised her head just enough to meet with another set of eyes. Icy blue met with emerald green, almost challenging each other. She felt a sudden rush of emotions, but they were not her own. It felt as if she was existing as two different people simultaneously, yet still had superior control over her own. First it was surprise, followed by curiosity and suspicion. However, when she looked away it all disappeared. As if a blanket had been ripped from her body. She hummed in her own sense of curiosity as she cleaned her hands with a napkin to place the cash on the table.

"Hungry?" The goat mused as Mary brushed out her dress after standing from her seat. She clicked her tongue before making her way towards the door, catching the stranger's eyes once more as she exited the building.

The dim lamp posts were all that lit the streets, and even then it was still hard to see with how dark it was. They had only passed another person every now and then. It seemed out of character for the city compared to how busy it was during the day. Yet she felt something, someone. Except there was no one in sight other than Dascal.

"Calm, dear one. They feed on fear."

"Like yourself?"

"Indeed." Dascal glanced to his right into an alleyway and guided Mary into the abyss. The two of them came to a halt when they heard echoed footsteps that were not their own.

"You know, it's impolite to stalk." Mary spoke out. A raspy chuckle followed her confrontation. The footsteps grew closer, as did the hoofed man beside her. His large hand protectively rested on her upper back. When she turned around she was met with a scruffy looking man, appearing much older with his greying hair that had started to bald. She held his hazy gaze as he crept closer.

"What's a pretty little thing like yourself doing out here?" He slurred. He attempted to corner her, but when he started to get too close she put a hand to his chest to stop him. Her nose scrunched up when he bit his lip. "I sure do like em' feisty." He went to grab her wrist, but as soon as he made contact he stilled.

His eyes widened and time seemed to slow, his breath caught in his throat. Slowly his veins protruded from his skull, swelling with blood as his face reddened. Terror was all that was left in his eyes. The woman watched in curiosity and slight amusement.

"Dascal?"

"Perhaps this is a-" He was cut off when the two of them heard a 'clang', then the man collapsed onto the ground. Mary held an expression of disgust as she brushed off the wrist her attacker had grabbed, then looked up to see the stranger from the diner. Said stranger huffed and looked at Mary incredulously.

"You're welcome." Mary quirked a brow at the man.

"Is he dead?" She questioned. Now it was his turn to raise a brow.

"Clearly not." He motioned to the breathing man as if it was the most obvious thing.

"Then I'm not thankful." Mary stepped around the scene to make her journey back to the apartment, Dascal following behind the stranger in case he decided to try anything.

"Not thankful? When he was about to do who-knows-what to you?"

"He wasn't going to do anything because he would've been dead." They made their way into the old apartment building, an orchestra of creaks sounding from the stairs as they all made their way up to the second floor.

"And how would that be? You couldn't even get him off of your own wrist."

"What is it with you all being so judgmental?" Mary mumbled as she unlocked the door to her room. She stepped inside before turning to face the slim man. "Goodnight."

Once the door was locked Mary made her way to the bedroom. There was already a set of pajamas already sprawled out on the twin bed and she smiled.

[j-wont-stop]

Mary Mary (Chapter One)

Title - Mary Mary (Chapter One)

Word Count - 1696

Fandom - The Umbrella Academy

Pairing - Five Hargreeves x OC

Summary - October 1st, 1989. Forty-Three infants were born to women with no previous signs of pregnancy. It was also the day of four-year-old Mariana Polakoff’s death. The world carried on, her mother being the only one left to grieve. But on one miraculous day, the little girl was spotted. But she was not how the world remembered her.

Warning(s) - None

Inspiration - I Just Died In Your Arms (Hidden Citizens)

A/N - This is set after season two, but instead of the Sparrow Academy appearing, everything is back to normal. Five is also physically 22 for reasons later on in the story.

22 April 2011

"I could keep you safe. They're all afraid of me."

"How is that when they can't see you?" There was a deep hum. No matter how many years he had been teaching her, her accent still remained thick as can be.

"Let's just say I'll be living vicariously." Lilac eyes shown through the darkness, filled with mischief. "Come, my dear," Knuckles brushed along her jaw. "The world isn't waiting any longer." Before she could question it his eyes faded. There was a growing pressure that surrounded her, suffocating her. An odd smell tickled her nose along with what had covered her. It was grainy, yet soft. It reminded her of something she couldn't quite remember.

The same clawed hand reached through to snatch the collar of her dress and she gasped when she was viciously pulled up. A bright light made her squint as she felt herself collapse on all fours, the pressure quickly relieving itself. A chill ran down her spine and she sat herself to wrap her arms around her thin frame.

"Mary?" A familiar voice beckoned ever so softly. She blinked a few times before fully opening her eyes that widened further. The first thing that she saw was the hoofed man towering over her, a curious look in his eyes. He gave a warming chuckle. "Confused as ever, I see." He bent down and pulled her to her feet, hands almost completely covering her upper arms. He brushed out the black fabric of her dress as she continued to look around in bewilderment. "It's a wonder how they didn't stain." He mumbled as he looked over her white cuffs and collar.

"Where am I?" The man paused and smiled to himself, then he slowly met her gaze.

"Do you not remember, my dear?" She shook her head. "This was your home. This was where you lived before I found you." He motioned to the scenery around them with his arms. Mary looked around her. The sounds of engines buzzing, birds chirping and phones ringing filled her ears. Numerous colors lined the busy streets with cars and people. She pulled her attention away from it all to where she had come from, but all she was met with was grass and a gravestone.

Mariana Polakoff

15 December 1985 - 1 October 1989

"How did I-?"

"You had a severe health condition and went into cardiac arrest." He cut her off, but she could tell there was more to it that he wasn't telling her. "Come, dear," He laid a hand on her back to guide her. "Let's find somewhere to settle down." The closer he led her to the sidewalk the more nervous she grew, unsure about the entirely new environment. Her heartbeat grew faster and he sensed it. "You have nothing to fear, sweet thing. All you have to do is follow me." She looked up at him and his eyes gently squinted, a sign that he was smiling at her. She leaned into his side as his arm rested around her shoulders. Those who passed her gave her an odd look, very few held sympathy and even fewer a smile.

"Why do they look at me like that?"

"They're just jealous, my dear." His thumb rubbed circles into the bone of her shoulder.

"Jealous how?"

"Jealous of your beauty."

"My beauty-?" She looked at herself using a window they passed and her eyes widened. She stalled her movements, or attempted to before her guardian forced her to keep walking. She stumbled a little at his light push, still fixed on what she saw. "Dascal?" Questioned Mary as they turned into an apartment complex. It was a bit run down, the paper starting to peel from the walls and stairs a bit worn. Dust filled their noses and Mary sneezed into her elbow making the man next to her chuckle. They were about to turn another corner when Dascal yanked her back. The girl threw him a pointed glare and almost pecked at him when she noticed the frightened brunette in front of her. She was practically her own height, if not slightly taller. Her face held a sense of innocence and it seemed to be refreshing to the girl.

"Mariana?" Dascal snapped her out of her head and she swallowed.

"Prostyte." The girl quickly apologized and continued on with her journey. The brown haired woman just watched her in confusion and slight fear until they disappeared through a door a little ways down.

"It's not much, but it will do for now." Dascal commented as the girl wandered to the bathroom off to the right. The man sighed and followed after her, hooves lightly clicking against the wooden floor. He ducked under the doorway and stood behind Mary who stared at herself in the mirror, eyes wide and lips ajar.

She was taller than she had remembered. Her frame now held a delicate form rather than the one she had as a four-year-old that was akin to a pencil. Her skin was smooth and almost white as snow, peppered with moles here and there.

Her nimble fingers reached up towards her hair, combing through it with ease at its softness. Egg white strands fell through, a deep contrast to the black roots. Her eyes were a ghostly blue rather than the stark icicles she held before, their liveliness lost along with who she used to be.

There was one thing that stayed the same, however. The one thing that brought a melancholic smile to her lips. Her fingers moved to brush over her nose. The small bird beak a resemblance of the same one her mother held.

Her mother.

Her eyes grew to saucers and she was about to whip around, but the hands on her waist held her in place.

"Mama?" She whispered to herself, eyes glistening from their new coat of water.

"I'm afraid that must be a conversation for another time." In her dazed and worrisome state he led her back out to the dull living room, the same size as the even more dull kitchen. There was no dining area due to how small the apartment was and an almost closet-sized bedroom was nestled in next to the bathroom. She knew she would touch up on some things later on, picturing what she wanted it to look like in her head. All of the paintings and nicknacks she wanted to put on display for no one to see.

Mary slowly walked behind the couch, her fingertips barely grazing the top of it as she came to its front and sat down. With her legs crossed and arms spread across the fabric she breathed in the scent of the worn out room. She felt a hand comb through her hair, claws gracing her scalp so gently that she closed her eyes at the pleasure. A sigh of satisfaction left her lips as her head tilted back and Dascal chuckled. Then his movements stilled. Mary's lips moved to speak, but she was cut off by the sounds of knuckles tapping the door. She raised a single brow at him and stood up fixing the skirt of her dress. "So soon?"

Dascal and Mary exchanged a look of confusion, though the former's stare held a certain hostility. He stayed where he was and carefully eyed her movements, the way her hand curved around the door knob. It twisted in a way that was suspenseful and her nerves became stronger, without a clue of who or what was behind the door. She pulled it back just enough to peek her head through.

"Hello?" A strained feminine voice cut through. Dascal gradually made his way over to the two of them, hovering over Mary. His presence, yet invading her space, was always a comfort for her. It felt like she was home. His scent was unique. She relished the moments she was able to breathe it in. Another reason she didn't mind his closeness.

"Yes?" Her voice was even, stoic. Void of emotion as she looked the stranger in the eyes. Her confidence unnerved them.

"Who is it?" Dascal quietly asked. Mary opened the door further to reveal the same brunette they had run into. He hummed, then stiffened when Mary flinched. The woman held out a ten dollar bill. Her posture was awkward and ansty, but at the same time she was as still as a statue.

"I'm not going to hurt you, if that's what you're thinking." The stranger softly spoke. It wasn't hostile or judgemental. It sounded rather fascinated.

"I've heard those words before." Mary's face remained unmoving. The woman sighed, her arm starting to wear out.

"Look, I found this after you almost ran into me and I just wanted to give it back to you. I think you dropped it." Mary's mouth moved to deny the claim, but Dascal cut her off.

"How kind." She turned to look up at him, seeing that same mischievous glint in his eyes. "Take it. She's waiting." She turned back to the brunette who seemed confused and slowly took the ten dollars from her. She watched as the woman quickly snatched her hand away with large eyes, but as soon as it happened it was gone. Before she left she spoke once more.

"I live in 205 if you need anything." Dascal softly closed the door and looked down at the pale girl who just stared at the money in her hands.

"Dinner?"

[j-wont-stop]

Mary Mary (Prologue)

Title - Mary Mary (Prologue)

Word Count - 932

Fandom - The Umbrella Academy

Pairing - Five Hargreeves x OC

Summary - October 1st, 1989. Forty-Three infants were born to women with no previous signs of pregnancy. It was also the day of four-year-old Mariana Polakoff’s death. The world carried on, her mother being the only one left to grieve. But on one miraculous day, the little girl was spotted. But she was not how the world remembered her.

Warning(s) - Death

Inspiration - I Just Died In Your Arms (Hidden Citizens)

A/N - This is set after season two, but instead of the Sparrow Academy appearing, everything is back to normal. Five is also physically 22 for reasons later on in the story.

1 October 1989

Autumn. A time of peace and comfort, yet held a sense of underlying horrors. Red, orange and yellow hues painted the trees with their leaves swaying to the ground. A light breeze caressed the face of the loving mother, rocking back and forth on the swinging bench of their backyard. The wind blew through long silky hair, darker than midnight itself in contrast to the environment around her. The older woman smiled gently at the joy that radiated from her daughter, watching her pick a flower from the earth. "Mama!" Her small voice squeaked, trotting over to the familiar face to stop just at her feet. "Mama," She called once more in a breathless giggle as she held out the flower further. Icicles stared into the woman's tired eyes that squinted into the smallest smile.

"I love it, konfetka." She spoke in her thick Russian accent. She took the flower from her and placed it in her hair.

"Prelestny." The simple word was just that to the small girl. Simple. Yet to her mother, it meant so much more. After her husband had left her, the world seemed so much smaller to her. The stress weakened her and she looked older than she truly was. Having to leave her daughter with a nanny while she worked long hours, coming home with barely enough time to cook them dinner and read her a bedtime story. If she was lucky she would sometimes bring home a sweet treat for the little girl. The glint in her eyes when she heard the sound of the rustling wrapper was what made it all worth it. She would do anything to give her child the happiest childhood possible, even if it was only the small things.

The hardest part for her was having to lie to her daughter. She learned to control her reactions, hide how her daughter's questions threw her off. Questions about why her father was gone, why he even left, why Mama was crying or sad. Why she never spoke of her father anymore or why he was nonexistent in the family. The woman now cradled the little girl in her arms, looking down at her with the most loving gaze.

"Mama?"

"Da, dorogaya?"

"Ya lublu tebya, Mama." The words stretched out through her yawn, eyes closing. The woman's eyes glossed over as she hugged her daughter closer to her.

"I love you too, my sweet." She whispered, stroking her hair with dainty fingers. Minutes passed, the mother sniffling quietly to herself as tears gracefully streamed down her cheeks. It was moments like these that she had cherished the most. When it felt like time froze around them. When she had time to relish the feeling of being with her family.

Then she felt a sudden chill down her spine. A chill that made the hairs on her arms and back of her neck stand up. It was beyond unsettling.

She looked down at her daughter as a source of comfort, anything. "Konfetka?" She whispered, trying to shake the little girl awake with the same gentle smile. No response. "Mary?" She called a bit louder, her smile falling and shaking growing rougher. "Mariana!" Her screams echoed when she saw her little girl was limp, skin pale as can be. The mother looked up and around frantically, eyes wide in pure terror and on the brink of hysteria. She knew it was too late. There was no pulse.

The little girl heard her name, the way it screamed at her. But there was nothing. Only fog in the darkness surrounded her. The screaming faded to a more gentle, silky tone. It was lower, masculine. Unnerving and inhuman. It was as if it had the tongue of a snake. But she couldn't help but be drawn to it.

"Mariana?" She turned around to find the figure of what seemed to be a man, but she knew he was far from it. Large horns protruded from his goat-like head, vibrant lilac eyes burning into her like glass. He was tall and slim, skin black as the night, a living giant in comparison to the small and fragile four-year-old. "That is your name, is it not?" All he received was a timid nod. He was patient, carefully calculating every little thing he did.

"The kto?" A deep chuckle radiated from his chest.

"A demon to some, angel to others." He noticed her hesitation, the familiar sense of fear that flashed in her eyes. "But," One of his hooves took a cautious step closer and she looked up at him from beneath her lashes. "My dear, consider me a dream." The knuckles of his large clawed hand caressed her soft cheek before it was held out in front of her. It was just enough to where she could escape at any moment. He gave her a choice.

Slowly her hand rested in his own, her skin freezing at the contact. It was a pleasant feeling, almost addictive. He felt her hand wrap around his finger and he couldn't help but smile.

[j-wont-stop]

The Scarred (Chapter Three)

Title - The Scarred (Chapter Three)

Word Count - 1497

Fandom - Batman: The Dark Knight

Pairing - Ledger!Joker x OC

Summary - Penelope Bishop works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by therapy and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

Warning(s) - None

Inspiration - Cold (Aqualung & Lucy Schwartz)

Masterlist

The note was all she could think about the next morning. Her pen tapped on the table relentlessly, the blank page of her journal sitting next to her now soggy cereal. How did they even get inside? Who was it? Did they go through her belongings? If they had, they must’ve paid close attention to detail as everything had still been exactly as she had left it. The locks on her door and windows were left undamaged, nothing was broken. The only sign that someone had been in there in the first place was the note. How long could they have been invading her space if all it took was a note to be noticed? The amount of questions that rambled through her head, the amount of ‘unknowns’ and ‘what if’s’, made her increasingly uncomfortable. Not to mention, the message itself had its own essay of questions. She couldn’t tell if it was heartfelt or sarcastic. Always wear a smile.

The walk to work wasn’t any different from all of the other days. The same bitter air, the same dark skies, passing the same people, wearing the same tan jacket. Everything had a routine, and she enjoyed it. She took pride in keeping the same routine for long periods of time. The door chimed once again as she stepped into the shop, Emma already inside getting things ready as always.

“Good morning!” The woman sang. Penelope just gave a tight smile, wondering to herself how someone could be so energetic that early in the morning. After Penelope set down her bag she wandered about the room, touching up some vases and pots here and there while her friend worked in the back room. After fixing the last vase she did a slow spin around, a final look to see if she missed anything before heading over to her spot behind the counter. She flipped her journal open, rubbing her left arm as she stared at it for a minute or so until the scratching on the page started. “You keep biting your cheek like that, you won’t have one to bite on.” Emma’s voice piped up. She watched as Penelope suddenly stopped, almost as if she was a child getting caught doing something they knew they shouldn't be doing. Emma just giggled at her and rubbed her shoulder, then made her way over to the door to flip the shop’s sign to ‘open’.

As Penelope watched her she thought back to the night before. Her dinner that was left forgotten. The bowl that was still left shattered on the floor. The note.  She had thought about telling Emma, but what good would that do her? She would either brush it off or overreact, neither of which she appreciated. But there was never a happy middle when it came to Emma. She learned that the hard way when a customer started making crude comments towards Penelope. It was safe to say he wouldn’t be coming back any time soon, if at all.

“Penny?” Her eye snapped up to the woman from her journal. “Di’ja hear what I said?” The woman in question simply shook her head. Emma sighed with a smile. “I have an appointment after lunch an’ I’m not sure how long it’ll take. I’ll need you to hold down the fort while I’m out, okay?” Penelope was about to start chewing on her cheek again, but quickly caught herself and resorted to a short nod. Emma could sense her underlying worry and walked over to her, softly resting her hand over hers. “It’ll be fine, I’m sure.” Her footsteps creaked along the old wood flooring as she disappeared to the back room again. Penelope grew doubtful of her words, eyebrows knitting together as she finally succumbed to chewing on her cheek once more.

The day seemed to go by slower than the pace of a turtle, to her misfortune. It only left more time for her to brood. More time for her to dread the inevitable. Her pen rapped against the wood of the countertop, and thankfully Emma was a patient person. Any other would have snapped at her by now. She heard the jingle of the woman’s keys and she felt her stomach drop, taking a slow deep breath to calm herself, yet in vain. Her heart skipped a beat as her nerves grew stronger.

“I’m off, Penny. If you need me just give me a call,” The brunette gave her a side hug and kissed the top of her head. “You got this, hun.” She whispered and gave her a reassuring smile. She looked back at her as she reached the front door and Penelope offered a wavering smile, accompanied by the smallest wave of her hand.

“Bye.” The woman spoke softly as she watched Emma leave the shop. She didn’t know what to do, so she just sat there. Hunched over with hands folded loosely in her lap. Her hand reached to rub her left arm and she stood up walking to the back room. Rarely did she ever. It wasn’t her first time managing the shop on her own. She was quite capable, actually. She just preferred to have Emma there as a form of comfort should something happen.

Shelves lined the slightly larger room, pots and vases of various flowers laid upon them that were lit by artificial lighting. She weaved through the rows of flowers, stopping to smell one every now and then when she grew curious. One that had caught her eye, however, was a vase of daffodils.

No matter how yellow, how vibrant they seemed, she seemed to believe there was a sadness. With their slightly downturned petals and simple stemming, it was a flower that was too often looked over. She thought for a moment, staring at the slim vase in question. Her hand then reached up to wrap around its neck, cradling it to her chest and she made her way back to the front.

“Oh!” The woman jumped, just barely catching herself from dropping the vase. A man stood in the center of the shop, looking around casually as if her frightened stature was normal to him. He was of a larger build, dawned in a leather jacket and jeans. The light of the shop reflected off of his bald head, scruff moving with his lips. “I-I apologize, I couldn’t hear the bell from the back.” Her voice faintly trembled as she gently set down the vase next to her journal. He remained silent, his eyes a fierce shade of green as they connected with her own. “Um-” Her eye darted around the room before gathering the courage to meet his again. He started taking slow steps towards her as she spoke. “Are you wanting to browse or is there something in particular that you’re looking for?”

“I have a personal order I’d like to place.” He spoke suddenly with a harsh tone.

“Well-” She blinked quickly as he cut her off.

“From the boss.” Her eye was wide, glazed over in fear.

“The bo-?”

“He wants a vase of begonia and baby’s breath,” The man cringed while he said the names. “By noon tomorrow. That’s when I’ll pick it up,” He threw a stack of cash in front of her, worth at least a thousand. He turned to make his way out of the small room, but not before calling over his shoulder. “For your sake, I suggest you make it happen.”

“My sake?” She muttered to herself after the door shut, her voice a higher pitch than usual. Her breathing quickened and her eye darted about the space around her, then she scrambled to the back room to prepare the vase.

———————————————————————

Her keys shuffled to unlock her door, her teeth gnawing at the soft scabs already covering the inside of her cheek. She swung the door shut harder than she had meant to, throwing her jacket and shoes off as she scrambled about the room anxiously. She had already started peeling the bandages from her face by the time she reached her bedroom. Then she stopped.

Penelope’s hand fell down to her side when the realization hit her. She edged herself out of her bedroom, time moving slower by the second. Her feet dragged her to the freshly scratched paint, eye ever so slowly making its way to the floor. The glass was still there, but instead of the scattered shards that had been, they were neatly placed to form a face that menacingly smiled at her.

[j-wont-stop]

Title - The Scarred (Chapter Two)

Word Count - 1241

Fandom - Batman: The Dark Knight

Pairing - Ledger!Joker x OC

Summary - Penelope Bishop works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by therapy and judgment with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

Warnings - Minor bullying, brief panic attack, flashbacks

Inspiration - Cold - Aqualung & Lucy Schwartz

Masterlist

The days were always slow, agonizing. It was both a curse and a blessing for the two florists. It brought on periods of intense boredom, yet allowed some time for them to bond more, if that was even possible. Penelope had been struggling to find a job which didn’t come as a surprise to her, knowing her condition. When she finally reached Emma after weeks of searching, not only was she hired on the spot, but Emma had welcomed her to the business as if she was family. It had been hard for Penelope to adjust as they had conflicting personalities, but after a few months of endless conversations and working she finally started to open up to the older brunette. It had been one of their great milestones.

Emma was not just a friend to Penelope, but a role model. A mentor when her own mother no longer could be. In fact, she truly did start to view her as a mother figure after a few years. She always treated her with respect and took care of her when she needed it most. It would be a lie, however, if Emma said she never had any motherly instincts when it came to Penelope.

“So,” Emma piped up as they munched on their lunch. Penelope peaked up at her from under her bangs. “I found out my parents are gonna be visiting in a few months.”

“Yeah?” Emma nodded, wiping her mouth off with a napkin. “For how long?”

“I think a week? They’re still figuring out the details.”

“Is there a special occasion or…?” She nodded again.

“My dad’s birthday. He’s turning 70.” Penelope hummed.

“The big 7-0, huh?”

“Yup.” Emma stood up, collecting their trash and throwing it out in a nearby trash can. “Can’t say he’s too happy about it, though.” She giggled, Penelope joining in soon after. Emma suddenly gasped and looked over at her with wide eyes. “You’ve never met them, have you?” She watched as Penelope shook her head. “Well, missy. You’re gonna have to free up one of your nights that week for dinner. My dad makes some mean steaks.” She winked at Penelope who just smiled.

“I’m looking forward to it.” The bell chimed and their heads snapped to the front door, a familiar blond sauntering into the shop, head held high with a pearly white smile. Penelope’s disappeared the second she saw it.

“Hey, sweetheart!” Emma squeezed her in a tight hug as Penelope went back to writing in her journal. “Penny, you remember Alice, right?” The woman in question simply nodded without so much as a glance, the blond’s smile faltering ever so slightly.

“I just wanted to buy some more flowers for the house, and say ‘hi’ of course.” They laughed for a short bit.

“Sure! Anything in particular or do you just wanna look around?”

“I was actually thinking about stargazer lilies?” Emma made a sound with a roll of her eyes, flicking her wrist.

“Oh, of course. I shoulda’ guessed. Let me grab it from the back.” Alice’s eyes followed her mother before turning her attention to Penelope. She took her time walking over to the woman hunched over the counter, pencil fiercely scratching away.

“Hey, Patchy.” The scratching came to a strong halt. Her voice had been soft, sweet, giving anyone a false sense of security. Though Penelope knew it was anything but. Going back to writing after a few seconds, Alice clicked her tongue. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were a mute.” A few more seconds passed and the blond was slowly losing her composure. “What, are you deaf, too?”

“No point in talking. I ignored you just fine the first time.” Penelope informed her with feigned innocence, a small smile playing on her lips making the other’s twitch into a frown. Alice’s mouth opened to speak, only to close when her mother entered the room once again. She held a glass vase filled with the preferred flowers, setting them on the counter as her daughter pulled out a ten from her wallet and handed it to her.

“Love you, mah!” She called over her shoulder as she left the building. Emma frowned as she looked over at Penelope who now chewed ferociously at her cheek, fingertips white where they gripped the pencil.

———————————————————————

With candlelit faces, the two of them laughed. The younger woman’s eyes were glazed over with joy as her mother presented the cake in the dark room.

The soothing ambience of the soft music and boiling water in the background was a stark contrast compared to her raging thoughts. She made her way to the fridge, opening the freezer to pull out a bag of tortellini.

As thick smoke started to crowd the room, accompanied by distant screams, they stared at each other. Now both of their eyes were glazed, yet it held an entirely different meaning.

After having ripped the bag open with her teeth, Penelope warily poured the frozen pasta into the water, standing as far away as possible to avoid being splashed. As she waited for them to be ready she grabbed a jar of pesto from the fridge, then a larger bowl and olive oil from the cupboard.

“Penny-” She was cut off by her own coughing. “The window - open the window!”

Lightly sucking on the inside of her bleeding cheek, she brought the pot over to the strainer that had been placed in the sink. She leaned away from the steam as she poured in the pasta and water, setting the pot aside when she finished. The bowl was brought over for the pasta to be transferred.

Even through the overwhelming pain, she maintained eye contact with her daughter for reassurance. She noticed the way she apprehensively glanced out of the window. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart.”

The sound of glass shattering filled the still air of the room. Having now sat down on the floor against the counter she let her head fall back with a light ‘thud’, taking shaky breaths as she tried to ground herself. Suddenly, she cried out to the nothingness in front of her, not a yell or a scream. The noise had found the perfect middleground as she trembled.

Penelope wasn’t sure how long it had been. Hours, minutes, maybe even only seconds. Her legs were laid out in front of her now, head hung low with a gentle sniff every now and then. Her dinner had been long forgotten. She had lost her appetite. She looked over to where the small bowl had been thrown, white chunks scattered below where it hit the wall. Thankfully the wall was fine save for some scratched paint.

She begrudgingly pushed herself from the floor to cover the bowl with the pasta and put it in the fridge. She left the glass where it was, deciding to just clean it up after work the next day. With a soft ‘click’ her bedroom glowed with warm light and she trudged over to the small bathroom. Just as she was about to start her normal routine, however, she caught something out of the corner of her eye. It was small, barely noticeable as it blended with the egg-white countertop. The lined paper had some chicken scratch on it and she strained her eye to read it, yet when she could finally make out the words her heart dropped. Always wear a smile.

[j-wont-stop]

Title - The Scarred (Chapter One)

Word Count - 1550

Fandom - Batman: The Dark Knight

Pairing - Ledger!Joker x OC

Summary - Penelope Bishop works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by therapy and judgment with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

Warnings - Some Swearing

Inspired By - Cold - Aqualung & Lucy Schwartz

Masterlist

Tick.

“What do you think about your day to day habits?”

Screams flooded her ears, a deep, guttural rumbling playing in the background.

“Nothing of it.” A pen scratched away in a notebook.

Tick.

The older woman watched as her eye fluttered about the old wooden floor. “Nothing?”

A cold breeze suddenly reached her numbing skin, her mind unable to comprehend the sensation of an ever true freefall.

“Yes. Nothing.” A sigh reached her ears, her right arm coming up to run over her left. The sensation was left unfelt, unnoticed if it wasn’t for the rustling of the oversized jacket.

Tick.

A brown eye shifted to the clock on the wall. 5:53pm. Another sigh. The pen stopped, then the notebook closed. Hands folded over the leather cover. “I’m afraid that’s the end of our session, Miss Bishop.”

“Of course.” Her eye stayed focused on the clock, yet grew more and more distant.

“Miss Bishop?” With a sharp inhale and whip of a head, the woman knew she finally caught her attention. “I said that’s the end of our session.” She raised her eyebrows at the younger female whose eye shifted to the floor once again.

“Right,” Her right arm pushed her off from her chair, walking - practically stumbling - to the door to grip the knob. It swung shut with a slight thud, a sign of underlying frustration.

Her hands stuffed in her pockets she started her journey through the woeful streets of the city, her eye dancing around cautiously at those around her. The sky was clouded, grey and foreboding over the already depressive buildings and people. Her shoes softly padded against the gum and puke stained concrete, silent compared to the heels that clacked around her obnoxiously. She felt the faintest amount of joy upon seeing a familiar building, the chipping white brick a comfort.

She followed the steps up to the third floor, keys noisily being shuffled to unlock the door to what she called home. She took a deep inhale, the scent of lavender filling her senses to bring a light smile upon her face. The apartment was small, obviously run down to fit the exterior, but her choice of furniture made it seem somewhat younger. She had spent at least a week removing mold and a few stains, and by the time she had finished it seemed almost brand new. The bleach smell took a while to wear off, but it was worth it to her in the long run.

The living room was just a bit larger than the size of an average bedroom, furnished with a small kitchen, dining table and couch. It was all put together and connected through accents like curtains, family photos and knick-knacks. She quite liked that it was smaller, that everything was visible save for the bedroom and bathroom which had their own separate rooms for obvious reasons. It left little room for any intruders to hide and she knew exactly where everything was, knowing someone had come through should anything have moved in the slightest.

She hung the tan jacket on a hook by the door, kicking off her shoes and throwing her keys on the table. She made her way to the bathroom that connected to her bedroom, clothes thrown in the hamper in the corner. Her nimble fingers grasped at the soft padding that hid the left side of her face and neck, the cotton coming off with ease as she pulled. She chewed on the right side of her cheek as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. The once soft, pale skin now uneven, scarred and discolored even where her eye used to be. As they traveled down they seemed to fade, stopping at her mid thigh. Though her arm had received the most damage, the deepest scars.

They used to bother her when she looked at them, but back then they had been far worse. By now, they were incredibly soft with her years of routine moisturizing and upkeep. She hadn’t been to physical therapy for almost two years, not after they told her they had done all that they could, to just continue exercising the muscle that was left before pushing her out of the door. Nothing but another block to check off.

She was now snuggled under her blankets after a soothing shower, the soft warm glow of her bedside lamp illuminating the area just enough to read the book she had recently invested in, Atlas of World History. While others indulged themselves in the words of romance, fantasy and thrillers, she much preferred factual information. Knowledge. To her, even the smallest bit of information that seemed useless could possibly save a life at some point.

__________________________________________

The bitter morning cold was relentless against her skin, encouraging her to attempt to tuck her face further into her jacket. It was moments like these where she was thankful for the bandages as they kept half of her face warm. Cars and buses alike filled the streets during the rush hour, jaywalkers slipping between them when the chance presented itself to involve themselves in the madness. She shook her head to herself, hand reaching up to open the door to a petite shop with a ‘ding’. It was warmer, even somewhat humid. The smells of different flowers and herbals were dominating. She walked behind the small wooden counter to set down her shoulder bag, hearing faint rustling from the back room of the shop.

“Penny? That you?” A woman’s voice floated over. Footsteps grew louder as they entered the front of the shop until a head of brunette hair poked out. “Hey, you!” She chirped with a bright smile while the other just returned it with tight lips. She walked over to where Penelope now sat down, pencil and journal on the counter in front of her. Her figure towered over her not only with her already shorter stature, but also because of her poor posture that would surely cause problems in the near future. “Long time no see, stranger.” She jested, gently elbowing her side.

“You saw me yesterday, you goof.” Penelope practically mumbled, attempting to bite back a smile.

“Still too long.” The woman ruffled her black hair, giggling as she watched her scramble to fix it once she pulled away. She disappeared to the back once more and Penelope picked up her pencil, beginning to jot down some notes as the brunette reentered with a small vase of assorted flowers. “Lunch is on me today, by the way.” She started to touch up the flowers to her liking. Penelope furrowed her brow at her, mouth moving to question her friend before she was cut off. “There’s a food truck just down the street I thought we should try. It’s mostly sandwiches, but I’m sure they have other things, too.” She looked up and smiled at the younger woman who gazed at her with doe eyes.

“Um-” She gazed nervously at the floor before looking back up at her. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.” The woman laughed and went around the room to reorganize other vases and pots. It was quiet for a few moments, the sounds of pencil scratching on paper and her friend’s footsteps adding to the peacefulness. The outside streets were muffled in the background and Penelope relished the calming atmosphere, the ghost of a smile gracing her face. It was soon washed away when a thought reached out to her, buzzing in her head. She started to chew on her cheek.

“Emma?” Penelope asked softly, breaking the silence.

“Yes, hun?” The woman’s chirpiness had died down slightly, sensing the more serious tone in the woman’s voice.

“Do I-” She started, pausing to take a deep breath and collect her thoughts. She started to regret her decision of bringing it up, but decided that she now had to commit to it. “Do I have… habits?” It seemed the roles had been reversed, for now Emma was the one furrowing her eyebrows.

“I mean, everyone has habits, hun.” She looked at her friend’s face and immediately noticed the racing thoughts just from her eye, sighing once she did. “Penny, is this about your therapy?” Her voice took on a motherly tone and she slowly made her way over to Penelope who just nodded her head. “I don’t understand why you even visit her, still.” Her arm wrapped around Penelope’s shoulders, her hand rubbing the farther one in small circles. “All they do is pocket your money for hearing your life’s story and feed you bullshit.”

“I guess I’m just too scared to stop visiting.”

“Why, because it’ll break your routine?” Emma leaned on the counter with her elbow, eyebrows raised.

“She knows the most and I’m scared to break that tie because of how much she knows.” Her large eye finally looked up to Emma, filled with desperation and fear. “What if she uses it against me somehow? Or tells someone else and then they use it against me? What-”

“Penny.” Her mouth snapped shut and her gaze cast down to the floor once more. “Not only are your conversations confidential, but - and I don’t mean this in a rude way - what would be so special about you that would make her spill your life story to someone?”