#ch: oswald cobblepot

[dcmultiverse]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇɴɢᴜɪɴ 1x05 ꜱᴏꜰɪᴀ ꜰᴀʟᴄᴏɴᴇ

[off-traveling-in-the-stars]

"but it's just so satisfying to wield psychological power over a man in a button-up! you all understand, right?" - sydney

[mx-paisley]

Huevember day 19-23 ⭐️🐘 (My last huevember post for this year!!)

For this I drew the elephant man from CH&T

Here are the links to all of my huevember drawings:

Day 1-4 - Moist von Lipwig from Discworld

Day 5-7 Will Wood in case i make it album

Day 8-9 Kayne from Malevolent

Day 10-11 Tara, my scientist oc

Day 12-16 Oswald cobblepot from Gotham

17-18 Michael Distortion from The Magnus Archives

[sl-newsie]

Behind Masks (Dr. Jonathon Crane x OC) Ch. 13: Damsel Not Distressed

Some independent hero I must be. Abducted by two idiots and tied to a chair. What an icon.

How long have I been out? The sack’s still over my head.

“Where the Hell am I?” I try to give authority but my croaking voice wouldn’t startle a kitten.

“She’s awake!” One of the voices from earlier whispers nearby and heavy footsteps approach.

The sack is ripped off and sunlight blinds my eyes. On top of that my hair piles over my face and gives me no clue to where I might be. All I can see through the strands of hair is the chair I’m bound to.

“Whoever you are, I have nothing to give. Go ahead and kill me.”

“I’m afraid that’s out of the question,” a familiar voice calls from overhead.

A hand folds back my hair and a better view of my captive environment is allowed. It’s an abandoned skateboarding rink. A concrete arena. The goons who abducted me are still standing behind me. Up above is the one giving the orders. Edward Nigma.

“I’m truly sorry it’s come to this, Callie.”

Through the blazing sun I make out his new appearance. Instead of the prison suit I last saw him in, Nigma has donned black trousers, a green blazer, and green bowler hat with a giant question mark painted on it.

“Nigma, this is ridiculous. Why keep me hostage?”

“Because I need Crane to cooperate.”

“With what?”

“I need him to stop terrorizing the workers at the bank. That’s where my next scheme is. As much as he hates to admit it, he does care about you. When he sees you like this he’ll budge.”

If it weren’t so saddening I might actually laugh. From how Crane acted when he ushered me out of his lab I don’t think he holds any amount of affection for me.

“Sorry to disappoint you but he doesn’t care, Nigma. He’ll probably encourage my death. The only reason he keeps in touch is because he’s obsessed with my psychosis.”

Bang!

A gunshot rings out and I look around for the source. It’s- An umbrella? There’s a strange-looking portly man in a black suit holding an umbrella with smoke coming out. Is that umbrella a gun?

“This foolish game is taking too long, Nigma. I want assurance that my own business will remain untouched as well.”

Just how many people are using me as bait?

I look up, annoyed at the riddling villain. “Nigma, who the Hell is this guy?” 

“Oh! Where are my manners? I am Oswald Cobblepot, at your service. Or should I say, your untimely death.” The man does a dramatic bow and tips his hat. The Penguin.

“Et tu, Cobblepot? Do I need to spell it out? I’m not a suitable bargaining chip!”

A shuffled noise alerts me to the edge of the rink and a flash of green catches my eye.

“Really, boys? You can do better than this. Leave Callie alone.”

I smile gratefully at the familiar botanist. “Thanks, Ivy.”

Ouch. The sun’s beginning to burn. I can feel my reddening skin rubbing against the ropes I’m tied up in. At this point being shot might be a decent way out of this. No more Gotham, no more sunburn.

“Did anyone tell him?” Ivy drones in a bored tone as she leans against the stone wall.

Nigma chuckles. “I sent a riddle-” 

“Never mind,” Ivy cuts him off. “Do not need any elaboration.”

Penguin shuffles around impatiently. “I’m starting to agree with Ms. Prentiss. I don’t take Crane for the affectionate type-”

“What are you doing?” Another familiar voice asks from the shadows.

“Or perhaps I spoke too soon,” Penguin says. “It appears he figured out your riddle.”

I can’t see! Where is he-? Oh. He did come after all. Although I don’t doubt his motive is to watch the show of me being cooked. Dr. Crane strides into the arena. He’s wearing the same clothes except for one accessory: the Scarecrow mask. Is this a rumble or what?

Nigma cackles with glee and hops down from his pedestal. “Delightful! Now that you’re here, let us establish our terms. You stop gassing the bank tellers, and we don’t hurt Callie.”

“Callie?” Crane whips his head to where Ivy’s pointing at me and his face darkens. “What’s she doing here?”

“Just a little insurance that you’ll cooperate,” Penguin explains smugly.

Dr. Crane’s eyes don’t look away from me. “You’re hurting her.”

“We haven't cut a hair off of her-”

“It’s the sun. She’s burning.”

He noticed. How attentive. Whether or not he cares if I’m being burned is shielded by his plain tone. Who does start to show concern is Ivy.

“He’s right. Get on with it, Nigma. Don’t worry, Callie. I’ve got the best aloe for you.”

Nigma tilts his head, still watching Crane’s alertness towards me. Cobblepot, however, is growing impatient.

“I’ll do it myself,” he mutters. He waddles closer and points his umbrella straight at my head. “You’d better be right, Nigma. Close the deal, now. Or else I will take my associations elsewhere.”

Crane’s body stiffens. Behind his mask I see his vibrant eyes flash. He can’t be serious-

“How about a compromise?” The fear doctor suggests.

Penguin lowers his umbrella by a fraction. “I’m listening.”

“You can do your little bank scheme, but also steal an adrenaline compound for me. You get your petty cash and I get a new ingredient for my experiments.”

He’s actually going along with this? Nigma struts up wearing a devious smirk and holds out a hand. The two men shake and he leans in to whisper something to Crane. Can we please get this done? My back feels like it’s about to char. 

“Pleasure doing business, Ms. Prentiss. Perhaps next time it will be on more friendlier terms.”

Penguin tips his hat to me and disappears into the shadows. While Nigma and Crane continue their whispering Ivy comes over and sets down a white bottle.

“Aloe. Apply twice daily. This should clear that burn up right away. It was good to see you, Callie. Stay safe, stay in touch.”

She too walks off and I’m left to wait for the squabbling geeks to stop arguing about… whatever. I don’t care.

“Remember: I’m not a flower, but I bloom in the heart,

In many stories, I play a part.

I can make you cry, or make you smile,

Through hate or sadness I reconcile,” Nigma chants tauntingly.

What the Hell kind of Riddle is that?

“Now let her go!” Crane orders.

Nigma shrugs. “Very well. There’s no need to hold onto her anymore.” He pulls out a knife and slices the ropes behind my back. “Sorry again, Callie. See you later.”

“Try to use me as bait again, and you will regret it,” I hiss as the ropes rub against my skin.

The chair pulls away and I fall onto my hands and knees. The pavement is hot enough to cook an egg. I don’t even want to know how red my back is.

“You owe me.” A hand grabs my arm and I’m tugged up to stand.

“Ow! In case you forgot, I am here because of you." I sneer at Crane. "Somehow I’m a valuable bargaining chip. Care to explain why?”

Dr. Crane doesn’t answer. He finishes untying the ropes around my legs. When he’s finished I bent over to pick up Ivy’s aloe. Every inch I move causes my skin to yell at me.

“Is it safe?” Crane asks in a lazy voice.

“I trust Ivy. Plus my skin can’t get any worse now anyway.” I practically limp into the shade and lean against the cold concrete. “I was just held hostage in broad daylight. What do you expect?”

“I expect it hurts.”

No shit, genius!

“Yes. Yes it does. Now please get your gloating over with so I can be miserable in peace.”

A small dose is all it takes. I pour a small drop of the green goo onto my hand and smear it across my arm. Thank you, Ivy! It feels like liquid relief-!

“Here.” Crane takes the bottle and suddenly more aloe is being rubbed gently on my back. “This should help.”

Oh- God, he’s good at this. Of course he is. He studied anatomy the same as I. But why does he have to be so frustrating?

“You’re helping? Are you high?”

“Hardly. These actions are based on pity, Dr. Prentiss. You look like a cracker dipped in ketchup.”

Surprising. He still has a sense of humor. Probably because it’s directed at me. 

I fight the urge to moan and pull away before I let my trust slip. I pivot and walk through the alley towards the main street. Where do I go? What direction is-?

“Your apartment is that way, Dr. Prentiss.” Crane points north.

I pull my face into a tight smile. “Thank you,” I reply stiffly.

Continuing onward. And he’s still following me.

“Did you know that- Oh come on, take it off!” I yank Crane’s mask away and shove it into his hands. “We’ll get caught! Anyways, did you know that New York built the first electric chair in 1888 because they were seeking a more humane method of execution than hanging?” 

He takes a minute to adjust to the bright sunlight. “That seems rather dark and random for you.”

“I find it interesting. We still kill, but look for more humane methods. In my line of work I’ve seen many criminals design their methods of death. Including you.”

We get to the intersection across from my apartment. Good. A hot shower- Scratch that. A freezing cold shower for my skin and some fresh clothes. My poor black dress from last night is wrinkled and dusty. With a little luck it can be saved. Some hero. Dressed the part for damsel in distress like a pro. 

“Would you like me to escort you?”

Escort? God, he’s right. I am poisoning him with thoughts of chivalry. This does not sound like the Dr. Crane from five months ago. First he lets me live from a Nigma’s crazy scheme and now he’s offering to escort me.

My tone turns gentle. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine.”

Crane nods. “Take care of those burns. Good day, Dr. Prentiss.”

He walks straight past me towards the docks. Back to his lab. So that’s it, then? Him popping in and out of my life when it concerns him. I shouldn’t care… But then why does my heart drop the further he gets down the sidewalk? Maybe Nigma’s right. Maybe he does care. Why else would he have acted to preserve my life today? Or it’s to earn a favor from me. I ‘owe’ him. Well, favor or not I’m still going ahead with my plan.

I strike first tonight.

[the-brave-and-the-dumb]

The tension is unbelievable

(and the word simp is atrocious but memes are memes)

[felicitykings]

@gothamnetwork's august event: oswald cobblepot

You watch mom, i'm gonna be somebody in this town.

[jeromevalseka]

it's so sweet of ed & oswald to help get barbara & lee to the hospital for the birth of their daughter... mlm & wlw solidarity!

[magiesmith]

character posters:  oswald cobblepot (gotham) “When you know what a man loves, you know what can kill him.”

[meep-meep-richie]

𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗼 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗳𝘂𝗹 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗮 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗱

[telltalebatman]

u will have to pry this disaster of a man from my cold, dead hands. he's my blorbo. he's my babygirl. anyway i combed through the main oz playlist and picked out songs that give me the very specific "him, but younger" vibe.

(link)

[dcmultiverse]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇɴɢᴜɪɴ 1x01 - ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ʜᴏᴜʀꜱ

[lynestvstoriesblr]

THE SAGA OF ELIJAH AND GERTRUD-PARELL LIVES Running out of steam! Need feedback!!! Chapter 7 Part A-A Whole Year

“We need to talk.”

Frederick Van Dahl looked up from his desk to see his son, Elijah, in the doorway. His arms were crossed and Elijah was frowning. Clearly, his son was in a bad mood, then again, so was he.

“Well, look who’s finally out of his room!”  Frederick announced. "I want you to know that you missed a lot last night. The party, your engagement.”

“You mean, that engagement that you tried to force on me” Elijah said, coming forward, “twice.”

Frederick waved his hand dismissively. “But did you really have to embarrass me? I mean, you saw the news van.”

“And who told you to invite them?” Elijah shot back.

Frederick let out a breath. “I thought you wanted to get married.”

Elijah scoffed. “Not to Constance, I don’t! Don’t even pretend I haven’t been crystal clear on that.”

“What is so wrong with Constance?”

“Among other things, I’m not in love with her.”

“Well, I can't leave these things up to you, can I? You’ve proven that your taste in women is sorely lacking.”

“My taste in women is just fine!” Snapped an enraged Elijah.

They were going in circles.  Frederick brought his forehead to his palm. “Enough! Is this what you wanted to talk about?”

“No.” Elijah slammed something on the desk. “First, here’s the master key. But I really came to talk to you about this.” He held up a folder.

“What is that?” Frederick asked.

“The employee folder of Gertrud Kapelput.”

Frederick shrugged. “So what? As I recall, I tried to show you that same file once before and you weren’t the least bit interested.”

“Yes, but I think it’s been updated since." Elijah opened the folder on the desk, flipped it to the very last page and pointed. "There's a check in here, addressed to Gertrud, for half     a million dollars. You can also see due to that big red stamp that the check was cancelled and never cashed.   Under that is lease for an apartment in the fanciest part of the city. This morning I called the landlord to that building and surprise, surprise, the young lady, a blonde no less, that he had been expecting 9 months ago for this exact unit never showed up.” Elijah slammed the folder closed. "You lied to me, Father!” he hissed. “You told me that Gertrud took money  from you when she left, she never took a dime from you.”  Elijah took a walk, turning his back to his father before Frederick could see the tears forming. Yet Elijah was far too angry to let him off the hook.  When he retained his compure Elijah turned back. “When I think of all those times when I pleaded with you and Mother, begged you to tell me where she was, you couldn’t because you have no idea where she is.”

“Elijah-“

“Admit it!”  he yelled.

Frederick grew annoyed. “Fine! I admit it. I don't know where she is, nor do I care. Neither should you.”

Elijah’s jaw dropped open. "Of course, I care. I miss her so much that sometimes I feel like I’m going mad! Besides, now that I’ve proven that Gertrud isn’t a gold digger, why do you object so much?”

“Ms. Kapelput simply doesn’t belong here.”

“Shouldn’t   that be my decision?"

“No.” Frederick   said shortly. “It shouldn't.”

Elijah sighed. “I don’t understand. You want  me to get married but you sent away the only woman I would marry.”

“Elijah, you need to grow up and accepted the fact that we don’t always get what we want. I, for one, always wanted a son.”

Elijah blinked. “Have you gone mad?! You have a son, me.”

“No, you are my male child, my heir, not my son and trust me, there’s a difference. My son would’ve been strong enough to go to school as child. My son wouldn’t be on bed rest all the time.          My son would know which women deserves respect.”

“All women deserve respect!”

Frederick chuckled cruelly. “Such an Elijah thing to say.”

“So, you resent me, because I have a heart condition and I’m not like you? Well, guess what, I’m proud I’m not like you! You're a mean, cruel old man with no regard for no one but himself!” Elijah turned and started to walk away.

“Where are you going?” Frederick demanded.

“Back to my room. This conversation has suddenly made me very, very ill.”

Gertrud held her earring up to the light. “Look Oswald, look at the diamond! Okay, so it’s   not a real diamond but it sparkles all the same. Like a star! Doesn't that make you want to smile?”  Gertrud was kneeling before her son, who lay on a blanket on the   floor as she studied him. His eyes seemed unnaturally focused on the light, Oswald’s small legs and arms were going everywhere, but Gertrud wasn't getting what she truly wanted. The baby wasn’t smiling.

“Come on Oswald, don’t you want to smile for Mama? Don’t   you? Don’t you?" She tickled his tummy, but his mouth still did nothing. It was a Saturday night in a mid-November. They were in the apartment next to theirs’, which belonged to Gertrud’s   best friend Sara, who was babysitting tonight because for the 1st time since Oswald’s birth Gertrud  had to   go out alone.

Then Sara appeared in the living room, having just put her twin daughters to bed. “Gertrud, you’re going to be late.”

“I know” the other woman whined “it’s just that... he won't smile."

“He’s still a little young.”

“He’s almost at 7 weeks. All the books say he should start smiling now.”

“You know all those books are just guidelines. All babies develop at their own pace.”

“I know” Gertrud   sighed, scooping up her baby and stood up “I just can't wait for him to smile at me.”

Sara held out her arms as Gertrud gently gave up the baby. “Okay Oswald, Mama has to go to work tonight. I don’t know, Sara, I miss him already."

“Then why did you agree to help your friend Sam cater tonight?” Asked Sara.

“For the same reason I’m    going back to my jobs full-time on Monday. We need the money.”

“Both jobs? Even Queenie's?"

Gertrud frowned. “Why? What’s wrong with Queenie?”

“I heard that she is having trouble with her business lately. Bricks being thrown in her store window and such.”

“Oh dear. I   guess I’ll learn all about it on Monday but for now, I got to go.” Gertrud push her baby’s hair out of his eyes and kissed his cheek. “Bye-bye Liebchen. I’ll miss you. I love you.”

It felt strange to Gertrud, being back at work and not being with Oswald. She was able to spend Sunday, her last full day of freedom with him but all too soon, it was Monday   and Gertrud had to pass Oswald off to a sitter once again. It was hard and stressful to go back to 2 full-time jobs by day and sleep beside a crying infant by night. Sara didn’t see her friend in over 2 weeks. Sara was   just dropping off a pot while she let herself in Gertrud’s apartment. She put the pot on the correct shelves and was just about to sneak out again when she heard crying- and it didn’t sound like the baby.  Sara tiptoed to the bedroom and opened the door to see Gertrud on her bed, sobbing softly.

Sara went to her friend. “Gertrud, are you alright? What’s wrong?”

Gertrud sniffed as she soothed back her hair and looked up. “Where did you come from?”

“I was just returning something and I heard you in here." Sara explained. “Are you okay? Why are you crying?”  Gertrud said nothing so Sara tried again. "Are you tired? Because after going back to both jobs full-time and with no one to help you with the baby at night, it would be perfectly understandable.”

“No, I’m fine.” Said  Gertrud,  but promptly broke down again.

Sara got up and sat on the bed  beside her friend, rubbing her back. “I don’t think so. Care to try again?”

“It’s-it's  Mrs. Roberts" Gertrud squeaked out.

“What?!” Sara  was shocked. Mrs. Roberts was a kindly senior best known for babysitting for most, if not all the  children in the building while their parents worked. Sara had even taken  her girls to her. Without leaving Gertrud, Sara looked toward the crib and craned her neck so she could see Oswald. The  baby  seemed fine, lost in sleep.

“Did she yell at  him? Shake him? Or” Sara gulped. “Do something even worse.

The seriousness of Sara’s question made Gertrud prop herself up on her elbow. “What?  Oh no,  nothing like that.”

“What then?”

“Oswald smiled at her! His first smile  and I missed it!”

Sara really did understand why her friend was upset, truly she did; but she expected Gertrud to say something so much worse that Sara felt so relieved that she began to laugh uncontrollable. In no time at all, Gertrud joined in.

Sara told Gertrud not to worry. That pretty soon Oswald would never stop smiling. Sure enough she was right, and Gertrud became his favorite person to smile at. Yet all the smiling in the world couldn’t ‘t helps the troubles   going on at Queenie’s. Unfortunately, Sara was right about the violent behavior going on at the salon. Only it was much, much worse than any Sara  or Gertrud could ever imanged.  Not only did bricks come soaring through the store window faster than Queenie could replace the glass, most of the bricks had notes attached. Gertrud was able to glance over a shoulder or  2, and read a few  notes. What she saw made  her blush. There were horrible words and slangs in there that Gertrud could never bring herself to write nor say out loud. O me day, a brick came   so close to Gertrud’s head that she could   practically hear the broken wind go pass her ear. Worst was yet to come. Queenie found that someone had spray-painted something awful on the side of her building. Then she came in one morning to find the whole place trashed. So, it  was sad but hardly surpring when not even a full month after Gertrud’s return,   Queenie announced that for everyone’s safety she decided to close the  salon. There were   tears in her eyes when she said  it. Gertrud’s heart went out to her.

Late one night, Gertrud yawned as her shift at the restaurant came to an end. Gertrud usually walked home, but tonight she was so tired, she decided to allow herself the small luxury of taking a taxi. Or at least, that was the plan. But as Gertrud grabbed her purse   and began to feel for her wallet. That’s odd, she normally left it right on top.  She began to feel for it more deeply, still nothing. She emptied the purse completely and turned it inside out, all to the same result, still no wallet.   Gertrud began to panic but then threw her head back when the memory suddenly returned. The last time   she had seen  her wallet was this afternoon when a client  of  the salon asked to see baby pictures of Oswald. It must still be there! Of course, today had to be her last shift at the salon. Gertrud checked her watch.   The cleaning crew could still  be there. Of course, there were no guantrees but Gertrud still had to try. So poor, exhausted Gertrud started the long, long walk  back downtown. Her heart sunk when she got to the salon and all the storefront was dark. Still,   Gertrud had come this far so she decided to try  the door and was overjoyed when it opened. She saw her wallet right on the front desk, as if it was just waiting for her.  as she picked it up, Gertrud heard soft sobbing. She looked up to see lights in the back. She tiptoed   to the back office where someone had her head down on the desk, sobbing like a lost child.

“Queenie?”

As soon as she heard the other woman’s voice,  Queenie  instantly stopped crying and  sat up  straight.

“Gertrud, what are you doing here so late?”

“I forgot  my wallet. What are you still doing here?”

Queenie could only burst into tears again, so Gertrud rushed in and knelt before her.

“What’s wrong? You can tell me.”

“I don’t know. Opening this place was my dream, now my whole life is a nightmare.” She started to sob for the 3rd time so Gertrud hugged her tightly.   “It’s alright. I’ m with you now.”

Queenie finally took a breath “thank you. This is the worst week of my life. Not only am I  forced to  close my salon   but my landlord threw me out a  week early. Now all I have is a non-fundable plane ticket to Vegas which is a week early and this all happen because" Queenie’s voice died.

“Because you weren’t born a woman.” Gertrud finished quietly.

Queenie’s eyes widened. “You  knew?”

“I suspected. You’re very tall.” Gertrud gave a small smile in her vain attempt at a joke.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Gertrud studied the floor. “It didn’t seem to  be my place. Personally, I didn’t think it mattered. I mean, you’ve always been so nice to me.”

Queenie placed her hand on Gertrud’s. “I wish there were more  people like you in the world.”

Gertrud smiled once more at her friend before getting serious. “You said your landlord threw you out. Do  you  have someplace to go? Your cousin, Ruth, perhaps?”

Queenie shook her head. “Ruth’s ill at the moment and there’s no  else I can turn to. I don’t even have enough money for a motel.”

“Then you’ll just have to come home with me. I don’t have a couch for you to sleep on because I can’t afford one yet, but I do have one of the comfortable recliner in the world. It goes so far back you’ll swear you are lying down. Of course, I would  offer you my bed but  it’s 3  feet from a 11   week  old who can’t sleep more than  4  hours at a time.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t impose.”

“You’re not imposing, I offered.” Gertrud instated. “What you are doing  is making my  babysitter rich the longer we sit here, talking. So, grab your coat and  let’s go!"

Queenie did as she was told, and Gertrud helped her former boss with   the little luggage she had. On the walk home, Gertrud shared some good news. She had gotten the job as a sous chef her restaurant was offering. This meant a raise in pay and a move to the day shift so Gertrud could spend her nights at home with Oswald.

“Are you okay like this?”  Gertrud asked a half hour later when ahe had taken all the extra pillows and blankets out.

“Yes. Queenie nodded from the  recliner. “Very comfy.”

“Are you sure? I  could see if I  can  find something mattress –like so you could lay down proper.”

Queenie shook her head. “No,  Gertrud. I’m fine, really. Besides, if I really want to, I can just use the kitchen table.”

“O-okay. I guess that will work.”

“Then, it’s agreed. Go to bed,  Gertrud. You look tired.”

The blonde nodded. “All right. Good night.”

“Night."

Gertrud slumped against her bedroom door as soon as  she closed it. Tonight’s events had unnerved her but she was unsure about what to do about it.  As soon as she heard him, she picked up Oswald.

“Liebchen, promise Mama something. Be good when you grow up, never judge people.”

The baby only cooed and she hugged him close. “Oh thank you."

Despite its unhappy origins, it turned  out to be a good week for all. Queenie proved herself to be an ideal housemate. Oswald took to her  right away so she  babysat while Gertrud finished up her night shifts. The week was so wonderful that Gertrud found herself wishing the week would never end. Yet, all too soon, Gertrud found herself hugged Queenie goodbye at the Gotham airport.

“I’ll write."  Queenie promised. "Again, thank you so much for recusing me when   I was my lowest point.”

Gertrud nodded. “Of course. After all, you did the same for me.”

With  tears in  both their eyes, the 2 women hugged again.

Christmas  Eve.

As Elijah stared up at   the star on the Van Groot’s insanely tall tree that he quietly reflexed how this was easily, the worst Christmas of his entire life.  He sighed as Elijah marlved  how slow time went. Was it only last Christmas that he gave Gertrud that simple gold ring? A silent symbol of their secret union? He wondered, did she wear  it still? No, he reasoned, why should she? How would she attract a new love with his ring  still on her finger? Elijah groaned and shook his head violently. It was his father’s new favorite form of torture to remind him, every damn day, that Gertrud was now free. Free to meet another man. In his father’s words, a stronger man and most definitely, better man. With another sigh, Elijah raised the champagne flute to his lips and took a sip. Of course, Elijah’s father had not given up his old torments either. Case in       point, dragging  him here to the Van Groot’s Christmas Eve bash. Elijah took another drink only to find his glass empty, again. He had been at the party for 2 hours and so far, he had been lucky, Constance hadn’t spotted him yet, but he had to keep moving. So Elijah headed out to the garden, stopping only to pick up a new glass.  2 hours and 3 glasses later, Elijah’s luck ran out. Constance found him in main hall.

“Elijah! There you are! Come dance with me.”

“But I don’t want to dance.” Elijah was slurring his words.

Nevertheless, Constance grabbed his hand and led him to the ballroom. Jingle Bell Rock was playing so they had to dance fast, Elijah didn’t care. It went on for a minute and then Jingle Bell Rock stopped and a new song started. Elijah was so shocked he turned and looked at the DJ. The song currently playing was Le Vie En Rose! Could  this be real? Elijah turned back to Constance and did a double take. Constance had gone; the woman before him now was Gertrud. Afraid she would disappear right before his eyes, he gently tucked a long loose blonde hair beyond her ear. “They’re playing our song.”

Gertrud said nothing, just bit down on her smile. Elijah took her in his arms and they danced together perfectly, just like every time before. It seemed like old  times. As the song died, he twirled her and then brought her  close. “I don’t want  to share you. Let’s  go somewhere we can be alone.” Gertrud smiled at him and before  he knew it, they were going upstairs. As  soon as they ducked  into a second story bedroom-Elijah assumed it was his-he began kissing her passionately. They stripped one another’s clothes off and kissed again. Elijah then carried   her to the bed. They rolled around, passionately kissing. Gertrud was on top as she mounted him as he smoothed down her hair. She then took his hand and    began to touch herself with it. She started at her neck and went down her body slowly, starting at her neck, her breasts, her stomach and down, down, down. When she got to the most intimate part of her, Elijah sat up and smashed his lips to hers.   Together, they fell backwards. He rolled   her over and entered her.

She moaned with pleasure. “Oh, Elijah!

“Gertrud. Gertrud!”

She stiffened and then roughly pushed him off of her. “Who the hell is Gertrud?!”

Elijah was shocked when Gertrud’s gold locks turned back and she transformed into Constance. “Constance? Is       that you?!”

“Of course it’s me!” She roared. “Who the hell  did you expect?!”

Elijah could only stare silently as Constance gathered the covers and stalked out of the room.

 Gertrud stirred the pot once more before she set the table. Then she peeked into the playpen, where  Oswald was  gumming his new toys. She smiled. “Are you enjoying your 1st Christmas, Lichen?”  Oswald tried to sit up on his own but he only managed to kick his feet wildly.  Gertrud was distracted  by a knock at the door.

“Merry Christmas!” Sarah and her girls  cheered.

Gertrud hugged them all in turn.  “Merry Christmas!”

It was a fun Christmas afternoon, enjoyed by kids   and adults alike. They exchanged gifts, Gertrud gave Sara a fluffy new robe and  the girls new dolls. In return, Sara gave Gertrud her favorite bubble bath and an    adorable tiny Santa outfit for Oswald. After the presents were opened and dinner was eaten, Oswald went down for a nap and the girls settled in for a movie, Gertrud and Sara finally got a chance to talk when they were doing the dishes.

“Are you okay?” Gertrud asked “You seem very far away.”

“I wasn’t even going to say anything,” Sara sighed. “but back in November, I heard there was an opening for night guard. I know the odds were against me, they almost never give these jobs to women but the pay and benefits were so great. And right before Christmas break, I was told I got the job.”

Gertrud was confused. “So, what’s the problem?”

Sara sighed again. “The more I thought about it, the worst I felt. I mean, the girls are in school all day and I would work all night meaning I would never see them. Plus, the babysitter informs me that she charges double for the night   shift so there goes most of my raise.”

“Well, I  could watch the girls for you.” Gertrud offered.

Sara  shook her head. “I can’t do that.  You work all day, plus the baby.”

“It’s really no problem.”  Gertrud insisted. “We’ll all be asleep most of the time anyway.”

“Fine. You can keep the girls at night and I’ll babysit Oswald during the day.”

Now it was Gertrud’s turn to sigh.  “That would not be wise. You’ll be tired and want to sleep and Oswald is getting more alert during the day as he gets older.”

“I can’t let you let me save money for babysitting while you don‘t. It’s not fair.”

The 2 women discussed the matter for some time before they reached a comprise.  Gertrud would take the girls at night and Sara, the baby during the day, if she felt up to it. If not, she would hand Oswald to the babysitter,      no shame attached. It wasn’t long after the decision was made that Sara and  her   girls left for the night.     Gertrud stood     in front of her lighted up Christmas, admired the   new baby’s 1st Christmas ball.

“Merry Christmas, Elijah.” She whispered.

  Elijah’s Christmas wish was, of  course, to see Gertrud. All he did get that Christmas morning was a hang over. From the moment he woke up,  Elijah  truly thought his pounding head would explode. Then he heard his door open and heavy footsteps, the next thing he knew Elijah was slapped out of bed. Suddenly,       Elijah was on the floor, looking up into the furious face of Henry Van Groot, Constance’s father. Frederick wasn’t far behind.

“Henry? Jackson said you just forced yourself in. What’s going on?”

Henry looked from the son to the father. “Your son slept with my daughter at the  party last night.”

“But that’s wonderful! Didn’t we always want them together?"

Henry frowned at Frederick. “Yes,” he said slowly. “But I don’t think that was his intention, since he moaned another woman’s name!”

Frederick’s eyes grew wide with shock. “What?! My son would never do that!”

“Oh no? Then   who’s Gertrud?” Henry demanded.

Frederick’s face instantly grew red. “Elijah, tell me you didn’t!”

Elijah said nothing as he climbed back onto his bed. Frederick managed to talk Henry into going downstairs before turning back to his son. “Elijah, what the hell were you thinking?!”

“I don’t know.” Elijah moaned as he laid down pitching his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “I was lonely and drunk. I thought she was Gertrud.”

Frederick was horrified. “Thought she was Gertrud?!”

“Yes. I would have touched her if I was in my right mind.”

Frederick reached down and yanked on the sheet Elijah was on, sending his son crashing to the floor once again.

“Hey!”

 “Now, you listen to me, you little idiot” he hissed. “Fix this. Go downstairs and say you’re sorry    

“No!” Elijah snapped. “Am I ashamed and sorry about my behaviour? Very much so.  I didn’t set out to hurt anyone last night, but I am not remotely interested in Constance. If it takes this to finally convince her, well, so be it!”

His father got so mad his face turned beet red. “Then do not come down at all for the rest of the day!” Frederick slammed the door.

 “Merry Christmas to you too.” Elijah muttered as he climbed up on his bed again.

  “Come on. Come on!” Gertrud muttered for   the light to change so she could cross the street. It was mid March and Gertrud had a bad feeling. Sara was doing great at her new job and   their new babysitting arrangement was going good as well. Sara even had a partner now, named Rex. Gertrud met him only once, but once was enough to see how great a guy Rex was and how crazy he was about Sara and the kids. Gertrud once tried to broach the subject, but Sarah told her to drop it, so she did. Anyway, this weekend was Sarah’s 1st weekend off so she took the girls to go visit her mother. Gertrud, as usual, had to work. It was a normal day, or it should have been, but Gertrud just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. This    morning it took forever to find a babysitter. Gertrud thought her son was too young for daycare, but since she had Sara, it was a moot point but this morning, of course, was different.  Her backup had the flu and her 2nd backup had class but offered up her younger sister, Erin.  Gertrud didn’t know the girl but had little choice. Gertrud’s bad feeling began almost as soon as she left the apartment. She tried to lose the feeling by throwing herself into work, but it wouldn’t go away.   She racked her brain trying to remember if she had forgotten something but there was nothing. The fact that she tried and failed to figure out what was wrong all morning drove Gertrud crazy. Finally, by noon, she couldn’t stand it any longer. She waited for the lunch rush to pass then told her boss she       must go home.  When he asked why and she said she wasn’t       sure, Gertrud was nearly laughed out of the restaurant. A kindly co-worker, who was also a mother, told Gertrud she would cover for her. Finally, after a quick thanks, Gertrud rushed home. After being stopped by a maddening slow traffic light, she at last climbed the steps to   her building. Inside, Gertrud heard babies crying and dogs barking, which wasn’t unusual. The hallways were always noisy.  However, Gertrud extremely worried when she realized that the loudest baby screaming came not only on her floor but behind her front door. She tried the knob but found it was locked. The she started knocking. “Erin, it’s me, Gertrud, are you and Oswald alright?” No answer.   “Erin? Open this door!” When there was still no response, Gertrud dug frantically in her bag for her keys and unlocked the door with a shocked grasp. There, on the second-hand sofa Gertrud had acquired just days before at a yard sale, were Erin and some boy making out while Oswald was still screaming but was nowhere in sight.

“Stop this at once!” Gertrud  ordered. It was only then that the 2 teenagers noticed her at all.

“Mrs. Kapelput, we weren’t expecting you this early.”

Gertrud simply wouldn’t have any of it. “Why is my baby screaming at the top  of his lungs?!” She demanded.

The boy wore a goofy  look. “Whoa. A  baby? I thought it was  a fire alarm.” He giggled.

Gertrud’s mouth fell  open. “Are you on drugs?”

“He is, but I’m not.” Erin said, as if it made a difference.

Gertrud would have none of it. She grabbed the knob and pulled the door open. “Get out!”

Both teens seem shamed as with heads  bowed, they stalked to  the door. Then Erin turned in the doorframe. “When do  I get paid?”

Gertrud was almost speechless,  almost. “For this? Never!” Then for the only time in her life she slammed      the door in someone’s face. Meanwhile, Oswald continued screaming.

“Oh, coming Liebchen!” Gertrud called and rushed into the bedroom and     gasped at what she saw. Oswald sat up in his crib, wearing the same jammies he was in when she left, only it was now dirty. His cheeks were ruby red and was stained with tears as he continued to scream    bloody murder. Gertrud could smell the stench from the doorframe.

“It’s okay now Oswald, Mama’s here.” Despite her  upbeat voice, Gertrud’s heart dropped as she reached  for   the baby, everything felt wet. She lifted her son and saw his diaper sagging  low. She kissed his brow and felt tears in her eyes. His hair was   wet and reeked of urine. Clearly, Oswald needed  a bath ASAP. She rushed to the changing table where she took off the onesie, got rid of the much too loaded diaper and wrapped him in a big, fluffy      towel while Oswald continued to cry and fuss. A bath almost always cheered him, but he remained cranky while Gertrud washed him and gave him a new diaper and clothed him. She rocked/bounced him  as she walked out of the bedroom.

“What’s wrong, Liebchen?” Gertrud had a feeling she knew but prayed she was wrong. Yet she was proved right as soon as she opened the fridge. Before work, she had prepared 6  bottles, and now she saw that all 6 were exactly where she left them. Gertrud could feel her blood  boil. Erin had neglected   Oswald all morning! Gertrud rushed to make sure her front door was locked before she unbuttoned her dress and let Oswald suckled greedily at her breast.

“My poor baby, you must be starving!”

As Gertrud feed her son, she called work and balancing the phone between her ear and shoulder , explained why she couldn’t come   back in today. The co-worker was covering for her answered and  said  it was a slow afternoon and it  was no problem. Gertrud felt very grateful. After she hung up, Gertrud casted a guiltily look to her bedroom. That dirty crib had to be changed. While Oswald still fed, Gertrud got up and went to the closet. She grabbed the correct linens and returned to the bedroom. Oswald cried out in protest when his mother sat him in his car seat which rested on the floor.

“Don’t worry Liebchen, I know you’re still hungry” she assured him as she buckled him  in “but Mama needs 2 hands to change your bed.”

In an effort to quiet him, Gertrud gently rocked the car seat with her foot. At the same time, she stripped the crib of all its sheets and blankets   and replaced them with fresh,  clean new ones. She put the dirty things in a laundry bag and brought it to the door. Then she picked up the baby, who was still fussy. She sat on the rocker to finish feeding and burping him. Yet, Oswald still seemed uncomfortable.

 Gertrud looked down at him. “I’ve changed you, bathe you, fed you and put you in fresh, new and warm clothes. What else could be wrong?” Then an idea struck. “Is it your teeth, Liebchen? Are they bothering you?”

 Oswald’s teeth had begun  to come in  last month. So far the pain had not been kind to him.  Knowing that had to be it, Gertrud went to the fridge and got out a cold teething ring. Oswald immediately stuck it in his mouth. Mother and son returned to the bedroom. Gertrud grabbed a baby blanket and loosely wrapped Oswald in it. Settling in back in the rocking chair, Gertrud noticed that the baby’s arms and legs were loosening.  Oswald was finally starting to relax.

 Gertrud held her son closer to her. “I’m so sorry Liebchen. I’ll never leave you with a sitter  I don’t know again, Mama promises.”

 Gertrud kissed him and pushed  off with her foot to start rocking at a steady pace. Soon, she was singing Oswald’s favourite lullaby:

The fire has gone  out, wet from snow above;

But nothing will warm me more than my, my mother’s love;

I light anther candle, dry the tears from my face;

Nothing can protect me more than my mother’s warm embrace;

The path ahead is dark, so dark I cannot see;

But I will not fear, cause my mother looks over me.

She sung the song twice. Yet, she must have fallen asleep during the 2nd round. For the next think she knew, her eyes were blinking open and her head was resting against the baseboard. Gertrud looked down to see that Oswald was also sound asleep. The teething ring had fallen out of Oswald’s mouth and into her lap. She took it and put it on the night stand before she stood up. Gently, as if not to wake him, she lowered the baby slowly in the crib removing her arms only at the very last moment. She smiled when her son stirred but did not awaken. Gertrud gave a moan of pleasure when she finally took off the shoes, she’d been wearing them all day. After unfolding the blanket, she always kept across her bed, she laid down and joined her son in     sleep. The kitchen window was left half open    so Gertrud could hear the children in the alley when school let out. It woke her up. Gertrud got up and made dinner. Where she checked on Oswald and found him awake, she placed him in his high chair and fed him.  After dinner, she         let him crawl around in front of while she sat on the couch with a calendar to fill inher work hours. Gertrud bit her lip and her eyes watered as she realised today’s date. Aside from the museum gala, it had been 1 whole year since she had seen Elijah. Scooping Oswald up, Gertrud held their son tightly to her.

 “What is it, boy?! Why are you   leering at me?!” Demanded an annoyed   Frederick.

Elijah looked up from his work. “Do you know what today is?”

Frederick shrugged. “Thursday?” he guessed   dismissively.

Elijah sighed. “Not quite. Today is the 1-year anniversary of the day you tore me and Gertrud apart.”

Frederick sighed. “We’re not going to talk about her again, are we?”

“Why? Are you ashamed of what you’ve done?”

“Why would I be ashamed?” Frederick chuckled cruelly. “I consider getting rid of that little tramp   one of the   finest things I’ve ever done. Besides, you’re better of without her.”

Elijah frowned. “You have been telling me that for an entire year! I’m   not better off, and I’m not over her. Sometimes, I think I’m dying without her!

“Don’t be so dramatic, Elijah, besides it’s your fault you’re miserable. Just let go of the memories.”

“I can’t let go of my memories! They all I have left! But how would you know? You’ll need a soul to understand!” Elijah then left and went up to his room, ignoring his father’s comments. “You’ll change your mind soon. It’s not liked your love is written in stone.”

Once he shut the door, he slid down the wall and sobbed in utter despair. He stayed in his room   for the rest of the day. After he got undressed and laid on the bed, reaching under the pillow for Gertrud’s picture.

 “Oh, my love. I swear if I knew where you are tonight, I would run out of this house and right into your arms.”

Elijah had a fitful night. He tossed and turned until he finally fell asleep. It was still night when Elijah awoke, but he was shockingly on   his feet. At some point, he had left his bed and went up the tower room, the site of Gertrud’s old bedroom. He shook his head and sighed. He was sleepwalking again. The room was cold, so Elijah reached down for the small rug next to the bed and wore it like a blanket around his shoulders. Then he laid on the bare mattress and fell into another restless sleep. Elijah awoke at dawn and while he watched the sunrise, he got an idea. Suddenly he rushed out of the house. He hurried out the gardens. Popping into the woodshed in search of a carving tool. He journeyed on to the old willow tree, under which he and Gertrud took their wedding vows, all those years ago. Elijah was about to start at the high top of the tree bark but then stopped. What if his father saw this? It was highly unlikely his father would take down this beautiful, centuries old tree just to spite him but Elijah was taking no chances. He had to make sure no one else saw this message. Paying no mind to the cold morning drew, Elijah soon lay on his stomach in the grass and was now face to face with the bottom of the trunk. The actual   carving was hard and took longer than he thought. Finally, after a hour and an half in the dim morning light, he  was finished. He stood back to admire his work. It read: ELIJAH + GERTRUD FOREVER within  a heart. Elijah smiled. His father was right; his love for Gertrud wasn’t written in stone but now, it was now embedded forever in wood.

[enygmah-blog1]

                       ❛   i  got  another  man’s  blood  on  my  clothes.  but  it  ain’t  his  fault,  it’s  the  life  i  chose.  this  ain’t  the  right  time  for  you  to  fall  in  love  with  me.  ❜

send me a ♬ and a number between 1-10 for a starter / / @cobblcpct

[fluffytimearts]

"I'm you're ch-ch-ch-ch CHERRY BOMB!"

Tag List: @oswald-pengu1n-cobblepot @mystery-of-arkham-asylum @the-blackened-dove @tigerbluethunder

Fluffy at a undercover masquerade ball.

[rxmuz]

Red is the Color of Temptation CH.1

ao3 link

Here’s chapter 1! Oz is so fine omfg. I want him to touch my face like that...and other stuff as well. And again apologies if this sucks or if you’re not interested, I’m fairly new at writing and the only skills I have are from my senior creative writing class.

CONTENT WARNING: BLOOD AND GORE, CHARACTER DEATH

word count: 2.7k

You had just killed a man, his blood pooling at your feet: thick and crimson. There was so much of it. So much so that you couldn't see the floor directly under you unless you turned your head to the side. You stumbled backward out of the sticky liquid with a groan of pain as you heard the sound of uneven footsteps, suddenly feeling the heat of warm blood dripping from your nose and covering the bottom of your face. The metallic taste of blood finally kicks in and reminds you of sucking on paper cuts from the tips of your fingers. But that had always been a drop or two at most. Having the dark liquid almost fill your mouth was an entirely different feeling. It was something that made the blood in your body rush with adrenaline and forced your hands into an iron grip.

You wanted to scream, scream at the lifeless body below, scream at the man that just tried to kill you but all you could do was stare at the blood surrounding him and the blood on your hands.

You're in one of the back rooms of the Iceberg Lounge, a little room across from the bar. Even with the club's loud music in the background, you could hear the footsteps as they got closer. A man brushed past your shoulder, bending down with a soft groan and looking at the body that lays at your feet. He pressed the tips of his fingers against the side of the man's neck and checked for a pulse.

Pointless.

"Well, ain't this unfortunate." the man says, raising his head slightly to look up at you.

His face was chubby and scarred. It looked like someone played tic tac toe on his face with a knife.

"For him or me?" you stumble out.

"For me. I'm not here for you if that's what you're worried about, hun," he says flatly, his voice thick with a Jersey accent and far rougher than you had imagined it to be.

He stands again, moving to the side after getting one last look at the man. He pulls out a cigar from his coat, lights it, and looks at you again. You take a moment to look at him. His weight was to one side, mainly resting on his left leg, but he didn't seem to be in pain as far as you could tell.

That's why he waddles.

Oswald Cobblepot or "The Penguin" by his associates. He's commonly referred to as Oz by his employees.

You've worked the bar for the past two years, but you've never actually met him or seen him up close. He knows all of the girls who worked at the Lounge; he never overstepped or made them feel uncomfortable, always keeping a close eye on them. You may not know him, but he knows you.

It was always quick glances as he walked through the club, not wanting to draw attention to yourself. But here he was noticing you because you just killed one of his goons.

"He owed me some money. But, obviously, I ain't gonna get it off him now, am I?" he continues as he smirks at you, gold shining in his mouth.

"No…" you mumble as you trail off, your voice growing increasingly small as you go on. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't-"

"You're fine, kid, didn't like the fucker anyways, I only kept him around for small things." He spoke genuinely, his accented voice now softer than it was before.

You stared at him, eyes wide and hands slightly shaking. You felt like you were on the verge of tears, yet anger still raged through your body.

"Told ya it was fine, don't look so shocked," he assured, clearing his throat before taking a long drag from his cigar.

You simply nodded in acceptance.

Oz looked up at you with an odd expression, something between surprise and annoyance marring his face.

He removed his fingers from the cigar in his mouth and reached up cautiously, and placed his hand on the side of your face. The gentleness in his touch surprised you, and you felt your face warm. He pulled you toward him, and you shuffled forward until you were standing right in front of him. He was warm, heat radiating off of him in waves, and you wanted nothing more than to lean into his touch and sob.

You didn't, though.

You knew how much violence his hands were capable of, but at that moment, it was as if you'd never felt safer in your life.

"He hit you pretty good, didn't he? Messed up your pretty face…" he noted with soft admittance, his brow furrowing as he kept his gaze on you. His large hand easily covered the whole side of your face, his thumb edging dangerously close to your bottom lip; it made you shiver.

"I missed my shift, I've-" you stupidly start, the urge to apologize for something that you couldn't have controlled.

He merely nods and squeezes your face slightly.

"Shush, it's fine…you were obviously preoccupied with other things, sweetheart." he soothed.

Why did I even try to apologize…

He studies you carefully, the seconds feel like hours, but you know that to be otherwise. After a second or two, something shifts.

He lets go, and you're left there stunned.

"Come with me. You need to get cleaned up."

With you? What about the damn body in the middle of the floor?

"What about him?" you stumble out, completely confused by the sudden change in his demeanor.

"I'll have one of my boys clean it up, now come on baby, promise ya I don't bite."

He turns and holds out his hand to you, a shit-eating grin on his face. It makes you weak in the knees.

What the fuck. What the actual fuck was that? How hard did that asshole hit me?

You eventually take his hand and move to leave the room you're in.

His hand is rough, but his grip is so soft. It's comforting…

You turn to look back at the lifeless body in the middle of the floor as you pass through the double doors and exit into the hallway. Oz takes you around a corner, and you enter an elevator. You were still shaking. The only difference this time was that you were alone with your boss, and he was holding your blood-covered hand.

Why am I still shaking? I don't have any reason to think he's going to hurt me…not yet, at least.

---

You exit the elevator and finally enter the 44 Below. It was the "club in the club" where all the corrupt politicians and government workers came to get a quick fuck and get high. The music was so loud it felt like your bones were vibrating. Unfortunately, the lights are too bright for your currently sensitive eyes.

It was sickening.

You hated everything about this place. You didn't hate Oz because he didn't give you any reason to hate him, but you sure did hate the men that work here. Perverted and so aggressive that sometimes you would rather live on the streets than work around them, it constantly left you in a state of panic whenever you were within ten feet of the building.

You had been so far in thought that you hadn't even noticed when you arrived at his private area or even when he showed you to the bathroom. His words snap you out of your trance.

"There's a tub and shower past that door, and there's a bunch of soaps and shit so you should be fine on gettin' cleaned up. I'll have one of the girls bring ya some clothes."

You wondered for a second if he was going to stand there and watch you undress. He didn't, of course. He could take advantage of you if he really wanted to, he outweighed you by at least 150 pounds, and he was a good few inches taller than you. You couldn't fight back even if you wanted to. The adrenaline had worn off, and you were so tired and sore that you could simply pass out right here and now.

But instead, you just stood there like an idiot and stared at him.

I'm totally not fucking crazy, sir! Just admiring the view! Definitely not on the verge of tears!

He stared back, and you wondered if he would just grow annoyed with your bullshit and throw you out or even just kill you.

"You're safe here, I don't want anything. I just gotta make sure you're okay." he admits, and before you can say anything, though, he has already left.

Tears fell down your face and you finally broke, your arms closing around yourself as you moved to sit in the middle of the floor. You can't remember the last time someone had given a damn about your well-being and the fact that it was coming from a criminal who has killed made it so much worse.

Why me?

You don't know how long you sat there, but it must have been a little while because at some point your tears stopped falling and you just wept into your knees. Your bottom felt raw and your back ached, the dull headache that was festering in the back of your head finally emerged into a full-blown migraine, and it resulted in a slight ringing in your ears. You stand and stretch slightly before heading to the sink and turning on the tap. The water poured from copper pipes in a heavy stream, the water flowing over your blood-stained hands. It burned but you didn't care, it kept your mind off your migraine for a little bit. After you washed your hands, you made your way to the tub to run some water, a shower sounded amazing right now, but you couldn't trust yourself to stand on your feet any longer.

The hot water soothed your aching bones, the scent of rose and geranium rising from the bath foam you had found. You looked around for a moment, taking in how big the bathroom was and the dark colors of the room; it was fitting of Oz. Taking a bath felt like a true luxury, and you stayed in there until the water was tepid, wrapping yourself in a thick towel when you were done. You felt yourself shake ever so slightly as you stepped across the bathroom floor, nervousness accumulating in a tremble as you opened the door to emerge into Oz's office.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

You scrunch up your nose as you turn in his direction.

"My body hurts…he threw me around a bit," you respond, not meeting his eyes.

He hums and then points his thumb at the couch beside him.

"Had one of the girls bring you some clothes, might not fit though…"

"Thank you, sir."

He stared at you for a moment.

"You don't gotta call me sir, Oz is fine."

"Okay." you reply tiredly.

With that, you move towards the couch to pick up the clothes but before you could make your way back to the bathroom, he speaks again.

"When you're done, I wanna talk about what happened," he says firmly, continuing. "Whatever happened, that is, I wanna make sure it doesn't happen again. I don't need my girls ending up dead."

You hesitated, chewing your bottom lip, and meeting his eyes, shaking your head briefly.

"No," you said. "No, that wouldn't be good for business."

He nodded, and there was a moment of silence. You fidgeted, looking awkward, but seemingly unable to break it.

You took that as your cue to leave.

When you enter the bathroom, you lay the clothes down on the counter. It was a pair of loose-fitting gray sweats and a baggy white hoodie. They were soft and comfortable; it's something you would wear back at your apartment.

He didn’t have to give me these. Shit he didn't even have to let me use his bathroom.

But of course, he did. Because of that, you had to resist the overwhelming urge to bolt out the door and run as far away as you could.

You were on edge, and for a good reason. You didn't really want to talk about what happened, didn't want to think about how a man tried to kill you because he was insane. More importantly, you didn't want to tell your boss that he was your ex.

Nonetheless, you finally garnered the courage to step out of the bathroom. Oz is still sitting on the couch but now there's a bottle of whiskey and two cups in front of him. There's also a yellow envelope beside it. He balances his tumbler of whiskey on his knee with one hand, and his free arm rests along the back of the sofa, his head back, looking at the ceiling and another cigar lit in his mouth. He barely noticed you, seemingly lost in deep thought.

"Oz." You prompt gently.

Your call of his name isn't loud, but it's loud enough to get his attention.

"Hm?"

He's still not looking at you, his eyes focused on the ceiling. You sit quietly at his side, folding your hands neatly in your lap and pulling your lips between your teeth to keep from frowning. You aren't sure how well you're doing.

"You said you wanted to know what happened."

He doesn't answer for several long moments. Then, lazily, he moves his gaze to you, grunting slightly as he readjusts himself in his seat.

Another long pause before, "Yeah, go ahead hun."

You don't even know where to begin.

"No one else gots to know, it'll just be between me and you, promise." he says.

"Okay," you begin cautiously, "um, well…Jasper, that's his name by the way…you probably already know that though-"

"Yeah, he's the other bartender," he admits. "I remember hiring him about a year ago."

"Yeah, uh, he usually works with me…anyways, he was coming onto me. We've dated before but I broke it off after I saw him with another girl," you shrug,

"My gut was urging me to leave anyways, he was an asshole anyway."

He chuckles at that, his eyes slightly shining as he looks at you.

It makes your stomach flip but you continue.

"He was handsy this time though, he wouldn't back off. I kept telling him it wasn't going to happen but he was so fucking persistent, he always is…was." you softly trail off.

You can feel yourself getting angry, but you can't help it.

He fucking deserved it! I shouldn't fucking feel bad.

"He started fucking grabbing at me, and I didn't want to deal with that shit, so I left to go to the backroom to grab a few bottles, but of course, he followed me, couldn't take no for answer." You shout as you stand up.

You're extremely aware of Oz's eyes on you.

You look to find him staring at you.

He blinks at you, "What else?"

Before you can control your anger, you're shouting.

"What the fuck do you think? He fucking tried to kill me after the tenth time of saying to fuck off!" you hiss as you fist your hands into the side of your sweats.

You're screaming at this point, and you can't seem to stop yourself. Yet Oz doesn't move to stop you.

"I was screaming for my fucking life and no one could hear me because of the fucking music. He had the audacity to laugh at me like he wasn't just begging to get back together five minutes ago."

You fall silent as the echoes of your brief shouting die away. And all that's left is the sound of furious breathing, mingling in the space between you.

"A few of the bottles broke," you murmur.

"I picked up a piece of glass off the ground from where he shoved me and I took my chance. You can guess what happened next." you continue flatly.

There's an extended silence.

You're looking at the wall now, fists in an iron grip at your sides.

"Sorry," you mumble before casting your eye around the room. "I'm really sorry."

"You shouldn't be," he says with a gentle smile.

[the-brave-and-the-dumb]

If the Penguin is played by Colin Farrell

And many people call Colin "daddy"

Can we finally call Penguin daddy or are people still not ready for that?