#wait is he that curly headed butch

[spnbabe67]

Let Me In Your Ocean and Swim

Kinktober Day 27: Face Sitting (B.B.)

Pairing: Billy Butcher x Original Female Character

Warnings: Smut, Oral (F. Rec), PiV

Summary: Butcher being a munch. That's all

Word Count: 1358

Authors Note: Title from the song Swim by Chase Atlantic

You wouldn’t know it by looking at him, but William Butcher is a fucking munch. Samarra wouldn’t have believed you if you told her that Billy Butcher, the stern, dirty mouthed leader of their merry little band, loved to get that dark beard of his absolutely soaked. But here she was, lips locked on his, as they made out, his big hands having pulled her onto his lap. Samarra’s hands knotted in his hair, messily kissing him, rolling her hips against his. Butcher’s grip tightened on her hips, hands spread wide across the swell of her ass as his mouth made a trail of hot kisses down her neck to her shoulder. She’d long since lost her shirt, leaving her atop him in just a sports bra and a pair of Brazilian style panties, which didn’t provide much barrier between her pulsating core and his growing hardness beneath her. 

The heat from his body radiated against her own, one of Butcher’s hands brushed up her back, pressing Samarra’s chest against his. The dark patch of curly hair on his chest scratched against her skin as they moved against each other. Both of their breaths came in ragged pants against the hard and fast desire flooding their systems, Samarra’s heart pounding in her ears hard enough to almost drown out Butcher’s low groans he uttered into her skin. She smoothed her hands along the broad expanse of his shoulders, tipping her head to the side as he practically devoured her neck. She flattened a hand to his chest, shoving him back against the mattress eliciting a grunt as he fell back. Butcher’s intense gaze scanned up her body, hands exploring up her sides as Samarra peeled her sports bra up and over her head, her breasts springing free.

“Fuckin’ diabolical.” Butcher drawled, sliding his hands up to cup her chest. 

Samarra huffed a laugh, running a hand through her hair, pushing the silver strands from her face. Her eyes fell shut as Butcher toyed with her breasts, tweaking the stiff peaks between the calloused pads of his fingertips and unconsciously her hips ground down on him. She leaned down, her hair falling around their faces as she licked her way into his mouth, the kiss sloppy and desperate. Samarra hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties, inching them down her legs as Butcher reached up, brushing her hair from her face, cupping her neck as he did. 

“Where you goin’?” Butcher propped himself up on his elbows as Samarra pulled her panties off, moving down his body and sliding her fingers under the waistband of his boxers. “Get back up here.”

Samarra made a surprised sound as Butcher grabbed her around her knees, yanking her back up his body. “Butch, what’re you-” Her words dissolved into a fit of giggles as his hands dragged up her thighs to palm her ass. 

“C’mon, lovie. Let me taste ya.” Butcher guided her hips until her dripping core hovered over his face inches from his lips. “Come take a seat.”

Anxiety turned her stomach into knots, but Samarra was helpless to protest as Butcher wrapped his arms around her thighs, pulling her down onto his waiting mouth. Despite his tight grip, Samarra still fought him, keeping herself hovered just enough she knew he could breathe. He pressed open mouthed kisses to the inside of her thigh, teeth nipping at the soft skin as he trailed higher and higher towards her core. Her mouth dropped open at the first pass of his hot tongue, the muscle flattened against her clit. She braced both hands on the wall, tops of her thighs starting to ache from where she hovered on his mouth, lips wrapped around her pulsating clit. 

Butcher pulled his mouth from her folds with a wet pop. “When I tell you to sit, I expect ya to listen to me”

This time he didn’t give her room to argue, wrapping his arms all the way around her thighs, holding her down against his head. Samarra had no choice but to let her weight settle over his hot mouth, gradually getting used to the peculiar feeling. His nose bumped against her clit as his tongue delved into her entrance causing her to moan shakily. Butcher's tongue explored her folds, suckling her clit in a way that had her eyes rolling back in her head. With her weight completely down on him, Samarra ground her hips against his face, hands balling into fists as she felt that tug in her lower belly. 

The man was drunk on her, groaning against her center in a way where the vibrations seemed to hone in on her already buzzing clit. Enthusiastic was a good word for it; he ate her out with gusto because he wanted to, not like the sorry excuses for men she’d hooked up with in the past who’d made every excuse in the book to not go down on her. But not Butcher. He clung to her thighs and ass in insurance she wouldn’t wiggle away as that tug in her belly grew tighter and tighter until it snapped and she came hard on his face in one big rush. Samarra panted raggedly, her breaths laced with moans as Butcher continued to lick at her core, working her through that high. 

But he didn’t stop, continuing to suckle at her oversensitive clit, fingers gripping harshly to her ass, keeping her sat on his face as he quickly had her chasing another orgasm. His name was the only coherent thing she could utter in the moment, her thighs shaking hard as he harshly lapped at her core, tip of his tongue flicking against her clit just right. Every pass had waves of arousal shocking through her, and no matter how she tried to pull away, Butcher held fast, keeping her sat until that second wave crashed through her. Samarra slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out at the sheer euphoria rolling over her, rolling her hips against his mouth as she rode out her orgasm. 

Her legs were jelly as Butcher finally lifted her off his mouth, manhandling her onto the bed. Her legs, feeling like jelly, fell to the side, welcoming him as he shifted out of his boxers before crawling up her body. Butcher rutted his hips against her own, coating his hard length through her thoroughly soaked folds. His beard was soaked in her slick as he nuzzled his face into her shoulder as he pushed himself inside her. He stretched her out on girth alone, not even taking into account how the head of him brushed against her cervix when he was fully seated inside her. 

“That’s it. That’s good.” Butcher moaned into her neck, nipping at her skin as he began to move inside her with even strokes. 

“Feels good, Butch.” Samarra encouraged, wrapping her legs around his hips, running the ball of her foot along his calf. “Just like that.”

He set an even rhythm, hitting every spot within her deeply it knocked the air out of her lungs. Quickly, already primed with sensitivity, Samarra felt her inner walls clench around him, her nails digging into his broad shoulders. The rush hit her hard, her body tensing and going limp all at once. Samarra whimpered as Butcher chased his own high, hips snapping into hers more harshly.

“Almost there, lovie. Just a little longer.” Butcher grunted, gripping her hip for leverage.

His thrusts grew erratic and finally she felt his hips stutter as he came in spurts. He groaned lowly, arms shaking as he kept himself from collapsing on top of her. Butcher settled on the bed, stretching out beside Samarra, both of them breathing heavily. Samarra groaned lowly when she shifted her thighs, feeling the familia burn.

“I think you gave me beard burn.” She swatted his arm playfully.

“You’ll live.” He grunted, slinging a heavy arm over her waist. “‘Sides, if you hadn’t squirmed and just sat like I told ya to, it probably wouldn’t have been this bad.”

Samarra huffed through her nose. “I hate it when you’re right.”

[thedndgoblinwholivesinyourwalls]

i bring you. indecipherable restaurant au doodles

anya and daisuke both wait tables to help pay off their student loans!! daisuke is really pleasant so he gets a lot of tips even though hes VERY inattentive lol

curly is head chef. shes also a butch bc its MY AU and i can do whaterver I WANT

swansea works the bar

jimmy stays in the back and does dishes. get fucked mate

TUMBLR JUST LET ME SEE THIS GRAGHHH ART STUDENT DAISUKE REALNESS!!!! Anya!!!! MY BELOVED!!! Curly as a butch head chef. hiiii curly hello hi hi

Swansea making a dish called ‘The Moutwash’ IS CRAZYY what do you think its made out o. cuz if its actual mouthwash i’m shaking swansea by the shoulders no don’t repeat the cycle/silly

[vance-e]

me jealous? never! pt 2

Pairings: Vance hopper x bowers!reader (romantic) Billy hargrove x bowers!reader (kinda romantic?)

warnings: Fighting, vance and reader kinda hate each other, mentions of abuse(past), bullying?, smoking cigarettes, swearing, kinda shy/blushy vance, vance fighting billy hargrove, jealous vance, cocky billy, 

Trigger warnings!: Abuse from neil hargrove and butch bowers, mentions of blood and fighting 

fandoms: The black phone x stranger things

characters: billy hargrove, henry bowers, patrick hockstetter, victor criss, reginald huggins, vance hopper, (neil hargrove and butch bowers)

time set: around 1986-7

summary: you and vance have always hated each other, but what happens if you go on a date with The billy hargrove? How would vance feel, and what would he do?

chapter 1 | chapter 2 |

not owned by me >>> cerealkills

__________________________________________________

what i didn’t know was that a certain blonde curly headed boy was staring at billy with red in his eyes...

Vance did not like billy at all. He hated him, why? because he was going to take his- i mean this stupid girl on a date. Vance didn’t know why he was feeling like this.

The hangout was great, catching up with billy was good because he understood the pain me and my brother have with our “dad”. It was so refreshing, not having to argue with some stupid boy like vance hopper. His hair is so stupid and his face when he is focusing on his game is kind of dreamy- wait what?! no! i shouldn’t be thinking about him argh!

Dancing queen By ABBA plays:

Ooh You can dance You can jive Having the time of your life Ooh, see that girl Watch that scene Digging the dancing queen

“ this is my other favourite song ”I said to billy pulling him up with me to dance. “im not the kind of guy that dances (nickname) he says laughing but dances with me.

Friday night and the lights are low Looking out for a place to go Where they play the right music Getting in the swing You come to look for a king Anybody could be that guy Night is young and the music's high With a bit of rock music Everything is fine You're in the mood for a dance And when you get the chance

i saw (name) and hargrove dancing with each other in the diner. I felt so angry he was touching MY (name) i don’t even care anymore, i’ve loved her since we had met and the reason why i “hate” he was because i don’t know how to express my feelings to her.

I stormed in and started to yell “HARGROVE GET AWAY FROM HER” i said marching towards them.

You are the dancing queen Young and sweet Only seventeen Dancing queen Feel the beat from the tambourine, oh yeah You can dance You can jive Having the time of your life Ooh, see that girl Watch that scene Digging the dancing queen

the song still played even when vance started to yell. I saw him looking at us so that’s why i started to dance with billy. To get a reaction out of him, it worked very well. “fuck you want hopper” billy said pushing his chest up to look bigger than vance, which he already is but thats because billy’s 18 and we are 15. “what are you doing dancing with MY girl?!” vance said getting up into billy’s face. But that word caught me off guard. Did he say “my” girl??

I saw how beautiful (name) looks while billy looks like trash. I can't believe she went out with this ugly thing. she should be with someone as handsome as me. So she should be with me and not billy fucking hargrove.

You're a teaser, you turn 'em on Leave 'em burning and then you're gone Looking out for another Anyone will do You're in the mood for a dance And when you get the chance

i cant believe he likes me back! but thats right a fight is about to happen if i don’t stop them. “STOP” i yelled at both of them. They looked at me and stopped which i felt proud of, but i grabbed both of them by pulling them outside. Leaving money and a tip on the table. “what’s wrong with you vance!” i said yelling trying to act mad but i was actually really touched he would do that for me. “billy can you go please, ill call you later” i whispered in his ear giving him a kiss on the cheek. “why are you with him” vance growls still glaring at a smirking billy, because he is my best friend we haven’t seen each other in a year. He understands my pain unlike you hopper” i said with a snarky tone.

he smirked and then said something i couldn’t believe.

“i was jealous and i wanted to be the one to take you out on a date. Not some 18 yo that’s your best friend. I’ve loved you since we met because your beautiful, kind, sarcastic and my dream girl (name) bowers.

You are the dancing queen Young and sweet Only seventeen Dancing queen Feel the beat from the tambourine, oh yeah You can dance You can jive Having the time of your life Ooh, see that girl Watch that scene Digging the dancing queen Digging the dancing queen

“so will you go on a date with me?”

_______________________________________________________________

Vance-e

[bearybutch]

It is what is says on the box! DM me here or shoot an email to hello.bearybutch@gmail.com to either secure a slot or be placed on a waiting list. I’ll be prioritising my current waitlist first and then taking on other enquiries as soon as I can. I’d love to get a few done for Valentine’s Day.

image description below.

[ID:

Image One: A commissions information post is shown. On the right, bold pink and white text reads “Build-A-Butch”, with a $50 USD price tag above it, and hearts framing the text. Blue text in a white box below reads “Or a femme. Or a friend who is neither! The choice is yours. This is just a for-fun commission where you can have yourself, your original character, friend, or loved one represented in a cute doll form in their own custom box. To take the pressure off, I made four box poses to choose from. You can include two accessories with your chosen character to best show who they are. The box colour palette is customisable, and so is the text. For example, here’s Jesse from my butch pinup series, who has a bit of a cowboy thing going on! Payment via Paypal - Turnover within a month. Waiting list gets priority.” On the left side, a butch with black curly hair, blue eyes, and white skin is depicted in a pink doll box with a blue background. There is a red cowboy hat and brown western belt in the background. Pink and white bold text reads “Jesse” and “Build-A-Butch” on the box. He is wearing blue jeans with pink seams, a black top with cutouts, and has hairy arms. He is leaning on the right sight of the box with his arms crossed. The background of the image is pink.

Image Two: A commissions information post is shown. Pink and white bold text reads “Poses” at the top of the image. White text at the bottom reads “Poses are flexible - they work as guides! The body type will change to reflect your chosen character.” Four doll boxes are shown with white, blank doll figures in poses, with a letter from A, B, C and D labelling their respective box from left to right. The first post has the character leaning an arm on the left of the box by their head, and their hip twisted to the right. The second box has the doll standing with their left leg crossed in front of the right, right hand on their waist and the other lower on their thigh. The third box shows a figure standing, leaning on the right of the box with their arms crossed. The fourth box has the character leaning forwards with their arms on their waist, turned outwards. Each box has a pink and blue palette. The background of the image is pink.

End ID.]

[dontspillthefrijoles43]

Lost Hero: I -Breisa

The time I saw a goddess

Word count: 1970 Warnings: Cursing (ENG/ES) , bad comebacks, teenagers being teenagers

Summary: If weird dreams weren’t bad enough, Breisa had to deal with a stupid field trip. Could it get any worse? Likes ❤️ , reblogs 🔁, and comments 💬 are much appreciated :)

<<Prev Next>>

—

Breisa jolted awake. 

A kid beside looked at her all weirded out and then moved to an empty spot in front. 

Where am I ? 

Slowly she blinked, yawned, and stretched.

The rubber cushion of the seat squeaked as the bus lurched and bump along the road.

She turn to look the window as they pass amber mountains, cactuses, dry grass, open areas of plain dirt.

The sky was clear and bright blue, which was very condricting to cold and dry December weather.

Around Breisa there were kids her age talking, laughing, sleeping, listening to music on iPods, and just being teenagers.

‘I’m in Nevada. The wilderness school. On a stupid field trip to gaint shithole in the middle of nowhere. She reminded herself and fluffing out her dark curls. ‘What time is it?’

It must’ve been two hour drive from the wilderness school. Another hour or so before they arrive.

‘Probably should’ve ate that breakfast sandwich.’

‘How long til we get there?’

‘Are we going to have to do more nature walks? Ugh.’

‘I brought my only pair of jeans, I gotta do laundry when I get back to the dorm.’

‘Don’t forget about that English Essay. If miss that deadline, we’ll get bumped down to a D.’

‘Wait do I still have it?’ Breisa patted her stitched-in jacket pocket. The jewelry was still indent in. She hadn’t lost it. Thank god.

With all the flood rush of thoughts, her mind went down the rabbit hole.

It landed on her dream.

It was weird.

Weirder than usual. 

Which was saying a lot since weird things have always happened to her.

Most of the time it felt like the world was out to get her.

Kind of why she landed to this reform boarding school. It was more like a prison Boot Camp from hell. Public school was better than this place.

But in some odd way, it felt like a warning. 

Annabeth and Butch are too travel to Navada

Extract the Demigods

Demigods 

Demigods

‘The heck is a demigod?’ Breisa thought.

It was probably nothing—

THAWCK!

Her train of thought was broken when something slimy hit her cheek.

“Eww! The fuck?!” Breisa exclaimed in disgust, wiping a spitball off. 

Someone cackled in delight. 

She recognized that laugh.

That angered her even more.

 “Valdez!” Breisa growled out.

She turned to see the curly haired boy leaning over his seat grinning cheekily. A straw twirling in his scrawny fingers. 

“Sorry Cariño, your big head was in the way!” He called out, earning laughs from bus.

She huffed in anger and a little bit of embarrassment as they laughed.

She fired back, “Well at least I’m not the size of an imp!” 

Other kids cracked up. 

“Hey I’m fun sized!” Leo protested. 

“Fun sized?! You’re so short, you’ll need a ladder to reach manhood!” Breisa retorted.

He flushed up to his pointed ears. “Y-Yeah well at least, I don’t look like a wack ass clown with all that cheap hair product.”

“Shouldn’t you be making toys in Santa’s workshop?!”

“Bitch!”

“Dumb ass!” 

“¡VEIJA!”

“¡HIJO DE PUTA!” 

“Break it up you two!” A new voice ordered.

There stood coach hedge with a glare. It would have been intimidating- if he wasn’t shorter than Leo. Or wearing shorts. “I don’t want any funny business on my bus, ya’hear?”

“He started it! Spitting that spitball on my face!” Breisa grumbled, pointing her finger to the wet spot on her cheek. 

“How do you know it was me?” Leo hummed ‘innocently’.

“The straw is literally sticking outside of your pocket!” She gestured towards the breast pocket of his army jacket. 

“Tattletale.” He stuck his tongue out at her.

She lurched forward to grab him as he tried to duck.

“Alright enough!” Coach pulled her back by the collar of her Jean jacket.

  “If you two can’t get along, I’ll make you get along.” He waved his baseball bat between the two.  “Alessandro, your new partner is Valdez. That means you have to work together and sit together. For the remainder of the field trip.”

“WHAT?!”

Both of them whipped their heads to him. 

“You heard me.” Coach began to shuffle his way back to his seat. 

“Coach, I think you’re being a bit rash about this.” Leo tried to reason, “I could scrub the bus. I could give a full essay on the importance of sports. I’ll even polish your bat. Anything. You don’t have to make us partners.”

“Some teamwork would do you good, Valdez.” Coach sat down and ignored any further protests from both of them. “Alessandro move to the back— And NO funny business.” 

Grumbling, Breisa moved her way towards her new  seat.

Reducantly, he got up and let her sit towards the window. 

She turned and glared at Leo. “I hate you.”

He could have swore he saw something red flash in her eyes. It might have been the trick of the light. 

“Yeah? Well the feelings are mutual, princesa.” He retorted, and began taking things out of his pocket to keep his hands busy. 

She turned away and placed her headphones on, playing her MP3 player. It blasted music, loud enough to be Leo-noise canceling. 

‘This is going to be a long ride.’ Breisa own thoughts complained.

-

They were nearly there towards the destination. Only a half a mile through, when they stopped at a gas station. 

Half the students go off to go to the bathroom, get some snacks, or stretch.

So it only left a few on the bus.

Leo jumped at the opportunity to let out his energy. Also to get away from Breisa. 

 It didn’t bug her at all, finally glad to get away from him. And get some sort of peace. 

Then she felt a tap on her shoulder.

Annoyed, she turned ready to tell someone off— only to find a unique pair of eyes staring at her. 

Maybe it was some illusion or something but they shined like Kaleidoscope. Breisa blinked and the other persons’ eyes were now a sepia color.

“Um yes?” Breisa asked mesmerized, taking a headphone out of her ear. 

“You’re Alessandro.” A girl acknowledged, showing the other half of her face.

The bridge of her nose curved out slightly and her pink lips were full. She had high cheekbones and wide jaw to go with them. There was no trace of makeup anywhere in her face.

She had warm amber skin. Her chestnut hair worn into a mid length braid with Choppy bangs. It looked like a quick updo. So some of her hair was sticking out of her braids.

She leaned over and Breisa noticed she wore an old patched up snowboarding jacket.

Despite her look that screamed “Don’t notice me”, it was very hard not to stare at her. She was very beautiful.

“Yes I am.” Hesitance was in her voice as the girl studied her. Intensely. “But I go by Breisa. Do I know you?”

“Oh sorry. I’m Piper. Piper Mclane.” She stuck out her hand as a greeting. Breisa shook politely, still unsure emotions about her. “A friend of Leo’s.”

“Oh.” Did Breisa say that out loud? What the fuck? 

Great. So much for making friends.

But all Piper did was chuckle. “I get that a lot. Don’t worry. Being Leo’s friend can be a bit tiring. Also that thing he did with the spitball was uncalled for. Sometimes he just doesn’t know how to act …normal?”

“Normal is an under statement for him.”

She laughed loudly at her remark.

Breisa smiled.

“Leo can be a pain in the ass. But he’s not always like that.” Piper promised.

‘I doubt it. This is the same guy who stuck gumwad with super glue in my hair.’ 

Piper noticed the doubtful look on Breisa’s face. “I know it’s hard to believe. But once he gets under your skin, he grows on you. Kind of like a fugas.”

She really wanted to believe her

But then again this is Leo they were talking about.

He was arrogant, egotistical, immature, and machista. 

Breisa has known this since she was his main target of pranks and jokes. He just wouldn’t leave her alone. Not since she got here.

“Piper, you seem nice. And I get that Leo is your buddy, but honestly I just want to get this field trip over with.” She tried not to be snarky. Only blunt. Besides, it was the truth.

Piper stood quiet, before letting out a little hum. Her eyes did that weird color thing again. They went back to their normal color. It felt like she was planning something. “Understandable. If he bugs you any more, I could punch him.”

“Noted.” Breisa hummed and began to play her MP3 player. 

Everyone began to pile on the bus.

Coach yelling at those strolling along the back to get their sorry asses on the bus, before they leave them behind. 

Leo came back and he had that wide shit-eating grin on his face. The type of grin that said What me? No officer, I would never.

She shuffled to her side of the seat, rolling her eyes at him.

Surprisingly he said nothing. 

Everything was normal.

As usual when things were decent—shit got weird. 

The bus rumbled and shook, it reminded Briesa of an earthquake. 

Her hands began to shake, and her breath shallowed out unevenly.

“Hey do you fe-“ She couldn’t get the words out before a beam of light blasted down into the bus.

With a yelp Breisa covered her eyes from being blinded.

Through the gaps in her fingers the light dim from scorching sun to heavenly glow. 

Carefully she lifted her hands away from her eyes.

She pulled out her headphones and looked around.

All her classmates were frozen. But not frozen like ice. Frozen in time.

Coach was scowling and had his lips in a shout but no sound came out.

Some kids were in motion of talking or movement -yet, nothing happened. 

They all looked like wax statues. 

“Ok if this is a prank y’all can stop now!” Breisa voice shook in disbelief.

No one word was heard from anyone.

Down to her last resort, she turned to Leo. He was frozen like all the others. For once, she wasn’t grateful that his annoying voice was quiet. 

Looking out the window, a bird was paused mid-air. 

‘This is a dream. I’m hallucinating.’ Briesa thought, trying to pinch herself awake.

It was no use.

She couldn’t feel anything. 

 The bus began to tremble again. In the light something appeared.

A woman in golden armor. Her hair was black and braided. She wore a peacock cape. held a staff with a sharp edge. She could've been six-foot. 

She began to walk along the aisle. 

Then she shifted. Like a retro video game trying to reboot itself. Now she was an old lady, wearing black drapes and a vail-like headband. She turned backed into warrior state. 

As she walked her state changed from old lady to warrior. 

Breisa felt her eyes sting the longer she looked at the woman but she couldn’t look away. 

The woman carried a boy. He had short blond hair and a purple shirt. With a thin windbreaker draped over him. He was knocked out cold. 

She sat him down behind her. Breisa peaked over the side. She placed him laying down next to Piper.

The woman frowned at the kid. “I’m sorry but this is the only way. I hope you can forgive me, hero.” 

She tapped his forehead with a finger. Smoke evaporated from his head, it was a faded gold. She swished the smoke into her palm. Like she captured it. 

Next she tapped Piper’s head and pulled out the same smoke. But she twisted it around and half of the smoke turned pink. It pushed back into Piper’s mind.

The lady leaned over and was starting the process with Leo.

When she noticed Breisa eyes widen and bulging out with fright.

“Can you see me?” The lady demanded questioned.

Breisa nodded stupidly as fog flew out of Leo’s head.

“γαμώ” She hissed. Breisa didn’t know why she understood that as ‘fuck’.

The lady was still messing with Leo mind, changing the fog as fast as she could to an orange red. “My energy is running out. I have no time to change your memory. You must have true sight. A gift from your mother. ηλίθια μάγισσα!”.

“True sight?” She barely realizing she spoke. 

“No time to explain, Demigod.” The lady spit. Then placing it back into Leo’s mind. “I’m just setting things in motion. You saw nothing!” 

“Like hell I didn’t!” Breisa scoffed, staring in disbelief as she stood up and began to walk towards the front of the bus. “What's a Demigod? Is this what the dream was talking about? Is that guy who went missing?” 

“No time to explain!” Her form shifted rapidly as her voice cut in and out. “Running out. I need to salvage some power. Hope and pray that your disruption will not interfere with my freedom.”

Without thinking Breisa asked, “Who are you?”

The lady-goddess halted.

She wanted to ask again but the lady speared glanced at her. 

Her lip curled up and she bleated “I am the queen of Olympus, Demigod! You’ll know soon enough!”

The bright light appeared again.

Then everything went black. 

Translations

Cariño - Sweetheart

Vieja - Old lady/old bitch

Hijo de puta - Son of a bitch

princessa - princess

machista - toxic man

ηλίθια μάγισσα- Stupid witch

{A/N: Hope you all enjoy this one - :) socially awkward nerd }

[ppg-artss]

“Even if we both break down tonight,

And you say you hate me,

And we go to bed angry”

“Hey ...” that playful, familiar, charismatic voice greeted.

You closed your eyes. Please go away. You waited a moment, wishing for the boy behind you to disappear. You weren’t ready to face him. But it seemed as if the world loved throwing things your way that you weren’t ready for.

You took a deep breath before turning around to face him.

There he stood.

Perfect, curly, fluffy, blonde hair sitting on his head. Thick dark eyebrows slightly being covered by his curls. Pretty, mesmerizing, deep, secretive blue eyes. With long, black, curled eyelashes above them. That cute small nose above his plumped pink lips.

God. He was so handsome.

You hated his handsome face.

You watched his chiseled jawline clench as he swallowed. Your eyes darted down watching his Adam’s apple move.

You flicker your eyes back up at his. It was quiet. The kitchen was cold. You were the only two in the manor. Brick and Butch were out accompanying Penny while she explored Townsville.

“What are you doing back here?” You asked, getting right to the point. You made sure your tone pointed that out to him.

Nevertheless, Boomer didn’t care. He wanted to talk to you, and you acting like you weren’t hurting bothered him. You were being so mean to him. He’s hurting just as bad as you are? You weren’t being fair.

“What do you mean?” He laughed, “I live here,” he joked.

“I’m serious, Boomer,” you snapped. Your voice was sharp, and it honestly scared Boomer. It kind of reminded him of Blossom.

After a while of silence, Boomer turned his head to look out the large window that was in the living room, behind the TV.

You sighed, about to walk away from him until he spoke.

“I wanted to see you,” he coolly answered, fixating his hands in his pockets.

Wanted to see me? For what? We had nothing to talk about, he made everything clear the last time rwe spoke.

“And why would you want to see me?” You irritatedly asked. “Because I missed you.” “Why?” “Because you’re a big part of my life.” “How?” “Because you’re important to me.” “Why?” “Because I love you.”

Your eyes widened. You watched as his face stayed the same. He wasn’t shocked, he wasn’t surprised. Nothing.

You’ve waited years for him to say those three little words. You wanted to hear him say that when you were happily together, and in each other’s arms. Yet, he tells you when he’s with someone else. In a relationship with someone else.

You felt dizzy, your legs felt weak. “No,” your words laced with venom. You gripped onto the counter, so you didn’t actually fall.

Boomer looked away from the window, his eyes now on you.

You looked so pretty, so enraged.

You stood fiercely in front of him, legs threatening to collapse, your tight grip on the counter, your glossy eyes, and the shadows that cascaded over your body. The only light being from the large living room window.

He didn’t like when you were angry. He’d always put his arms around your waist, and pull you into a hug. Your face would collide with his chest, and you’d immediately calmed down when he put a hand on top of your head.

“You don’t get to to do that,” you scoffed. Boomer’s eyebrows slightly furrowed. He opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“You don’t get to say that you love me, after you’ve told me you love someone else. How could you?- why would-”

A rough calloused hand, carefully, softly caressed your face. He’s always had the most gentlest touch when it came to you.

A weak cry escaped your throat. You tried slapping his hand away from your face. But he wouldn’t budge.

“I love you,” he said.

“You don’t love me,” you shook your head.

“Yes, I do.”

His dark blue irises looked at you with such care, whilst your eyes remained on everything but him.

You tightly closed your eyes. Trapping the river of tears from escaping from your eyes. And when you finally got the courage. You looked up and asked,

“Are you going to leave her?”

The question was quite painful to ask, and you knew you weren’t ready to hear the answer...but you forced yourself to be.

Boomer stayed quiet. He was looking at the floor, he stood close to you. Taking in your presence. His hand still caressing your cheek. His eyebrow twitched in frustration. Something he had always done since he was a kid.

His dark blue irises flashing with confusion. But then, he closed his eyes, and leaned down to press his forehead to yours. And whispered,

“I love you.”

[the-mandalorian-clone-lover]

Aces in Spaces Chapter 10

This is a Butcher and Hannah centered chapter but still full of fluff!! 

Hope you all enjoy :D

Tags: @rentskenobi @sunshinepascal @obaby-wan @maybege @agent-450 @princessxkenobi

Masterlist

Butcher’s walking up to her door again, Hannah’s offered to take him ice skating and for some reason he’s feeling more nervous about it than he did about his high school prom. He knows why, he thought of prom as a joke, and he’s already decided Hannah will be the woman he marries if she wants to be. All the same he’s at the door now and maybe knives on shoes on ice is something he should be worried about too.

He knocks, gently, and barely a moment passes before she’s pulled the door open and is beaming at him intensely. “Butch!” she breathes out with a smile, curly hair combed back against her head into a ponytail at the base of her neck, rust orange shirt making her brown eyes pop, sweater tied around her waist.

He smiles back, simultaneously feeling under and over-dressed at once in his t-shirt and jeans, but then she’s leaning up to him and to the side and he frowns gently at her giggles.

“I’m trying to kiss you hello, silly.”

He mumbles a soft ‘oh’ leaning back and raising his eyebrows, “You do that to all the men you take ice skating?” He asks, as if they didn’t kiss each other hello and goodbye every time they saw each other (and had since their 14th date which was near their two-month anniversary, and before that had exchanged cheek kisses. It only changed then because Butch had turned his head at the last second to catch her lips with his own instead of letting hers graze his cheek and well, the goodbye had taken a little longer than usual that day).

“Nope” She says breezily, “Just the insanely tall, incredibly ripped and handsome ones who bridal carry me back to my car after I wobble on ladders at work.” Now she’s being cheeky.

He considers (for the briefest of moments) continuing to tease her but he relents and leans down to cover her lips with his, barely brushing her hips with his fingers before her hands come to pull them to her waist, pushing herself closer to his chest. He pulls away after a few more seconds,

“Sunshine, if we keep on like this you’re not ever gonna get me skatin’”

She giggles again, nuzzling her face against his chest before turning her bright eyes to him once more. “You wouldn’t mind that at all.”

“Sure wouldn’t, where I come from knives and ice don’t go together besides with food.”

“We could do food too y��know” She says as she steps out of the door, closing and locking it behind her before tucking herself under his waiting arm and walking to the truck.

“You know Roman started calling her ‘the monstrosity’? Said it makes Erica laugh so he won’t give it up but, it ain’t right.”

“They are adorable though, you can’t argue that.”

“Maybe, but that don’t make it right. Georgia is beautiful, and it probably breaks her heart to have Roman talking bout her like that.”

Hannah pauses as he opens the door, then lifts both arms obligingly to allow him to lift her into the truck by the waist as if she were a child. She didn’t really appreciate it at first but now she’s figured out that every time he does it, a) she gets to watch his arms bulge in his shirt, and b) it’s one of the rare times he has to lean up to give her kisses from her spot in the truck.

She gets her kiss and then pats the dash comfortingly before Butch closes the door. “I don’t think Georgia minds, she’s got you to keep an eye on her, and I know how well you take care of your woman.”

Butch beams at her and then he’s closing her door to walk around to the drivers side. She finds his flannel in the middle seat and is already shrugging it on by the time he gets in the door.

“Mine.”

“Hm?”

“Mine.”

A glance. “Ok.”

[ashfountainfanfics]

It’s weird to be squatting in the Byers’ empty house. It feels too big and hollow. Steve hadn’t been in it often enough to remember the layout but there’s the ghosts of furniture past etched into the carpet. It’s weird to think that a family lived here; that they had normal Christmases and birthdays. That they ate breakfasts and played music. Now there’s nothing but indents and faded spots.

 Steve and Billy mostly stay in the living room camped out in a nest of stray blankets and a couple pillows. It feels the least invasive of their options. A cooler sits nearby but Steve already knows that the sodas and snacks in it are probably lukewarm by now.

Steve rolls over to his left to look at Billy. The poor guy has a sheen of sweat across his whole body and his hair is flat. Still, Steve fights the urge to curl up with him. It’s impossible to keep physical contact up in this heat and Hawkins won’t really cool down until mid October. Not that they can stay here much longer.

Steve hears movements in the other room. He quickly scrambles to put some distance between himself and Billy. The rug scratches at his knees and he briefly says a prayer that Billy isn’t naked under that sheet he’s wrapped himself in.

Dustin appears in the living room through one of the bedroom doors. The sound from earlier had been him climbing into the window and hauling snacks and other provisions with him. Steve mentally berates himself again for breaking Joyce’s window a few days ago but he wasn’t entirely sure of where else to go.

“Henderson,” Steve attempts a greeting but his throat is dry.

Dustin picks up on this and pulls out a large thermos. Steve tries not to guzzle down all of the cold water in one go but half ends up sacrificed to his thirst.

“It’s okay,” Dustin lets him know quietly, “I brought another one for... him.”

Dustin doesn’t seem too pleased about bringing anything for Billy if the avoidance of his name is any indication. Billy snores a little and flips onto his back. Steve doesn’t realize that he’s smiling until he notices that Dustin’s caught him.

“You don’t have to do that,” Dustin says, irritated, as he turns to pack food and drinks into the cooler.

Steve feels a flush come up to his cheeks and it’s not just the morning heat. It’s not possible that Dustin knows right? El swore to secrecy and Steve hadn’t even hinted at anything. It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell Dustin or maybe it is. It’s not reassuring to come out to anyone about this when Steve’s own parents gave him the boot over it.

“Do what?” Steve asks, immediately regretting it.

Dustin closes the lid on the cooler and looks Steve square in the eye. His lip line is tight, still irritated. Steve feels like he’s about to lose a friend, a sibling even. Dustin’s the little brother he never had and to have that family reject him too somehow hurts more. He chose Dustin and Steve’s praying that Dustin chooses him back right now.

“You two sleep together. In summer. You’re staying together and he’s not hurt anymore. You look at him like you looked at Nancy and even Robin sometimes. I’m not dumb! Stop treating me like I’m dumb!”

Billy stirs a bit at the outburst but manages to quickly fall back asleep. Dustin’s not really yelling so much as raising his voice a bit. Steve feels like Dustin is yelling, feels like he’s screaming.

“You’re not dumb,” Steve is talking in a panic, no filter, “you are the smartest kid- smartest person I’ve ever known.”

“Then why are you trying to hide it?”

“Because- because people might-“

“From me! Why are you trying to hide it from me?!”

Billy does wake up this time. He peers sleepily at Steve and Dustin. He groans and sits up on the floor.

“I’m guessing curly top figured us out?” Billy asks Steve while Steve still sits five feet away and dumbstruck.

“Days ago,” Dustin says through gritted teeth, “and my name is Dustin.”

Billy’s eyebrow ticks up in consideration of this child and how he’s holding his ground. Steve feels like he should intervene but there aren’t any words in his mouth. He’s just sitting on the floor completely stupid and silent.

“You got a problem then?” Billy challenges.

“Yeah I do.”

Steve braces himself for the worst. He can hear Dustin’s voice in his head saying terrible things; calling him a faggot and a queer. He tries to shield himself against the thought of cutting ties, of never seeing little mop top Henderson again. Briefly he debates saying this is all a joke and he’s not gay or anything but Dustin’s not stupid. Lying would make it worse. He’s going to make his choice and Steve is going to have to deal with losing someone important.

“Why you?” Dustin asks, “You tried to hurt us way before The Mind Flayer got to you. Your sister had to beat the snot out of you just to get you away from us! You’re a jerk and an asshole and you’re one of the bad guys!”

Dustin directs himself to Steve not allowing Billy the opportunity to defend himself.

“You’re one of the good guys!” Dustin says, his voice cracking, “You’re my friend and you save people. This guy beat you up, remember? He tried to kill us! Good guys don’t date assholes!”

Steve tries to process to the best of his ability but given the expectations he had it isn’t easy. He notices that Billy looks amused at all this but that doesn’t help. Steve stands to his feet.

“Wait… wait so-“ Steve’s brain posits his conclusion, “your problem is that Billy’s an asshole?”

“Yeah!”

“Not because he’s...a guy?”

“No!”

Dustin looks like he wants to throw something at Steve because he’s being stupid but he doesn’t. Steve starts to laugh and mutters the word ‘unbelievable’ to himself. The laughter suddenly turns into crying and Steve can’t stop it.

Billy’s at Steve’s side now and he notices that he’s not naked as he had feared earlier and thank God for that. Steve hides his face behind his hands because crying is embarrassing. He didn’t realize how mortifying it is to cry like this.

“Hey, hey no,” Billy says firmly and pulls his hands down.

Billy cradles Steve’s face and wipes away the tears with his thumbs. He rests his head against Steve’s. His attempts to speak soothingly come out as more of a gruff, hushed tone. It’s still works for Steve though and he leans into being comforted.

“It’s my turn, okay?” Billy reassures him as best as he can, “Don’t hold back. Fuck it.”

“Steve?” Dustin asks quietly.

“Hey you did enough you little-“ Billy turns, teeth bared and ready to fight a child.

“No,” Steve stops Billy from turning his fury on Dustin, “it’s happy crying. It’s good. I’m fine. I didn’t know happy crying exists but I’m- I’m good.”

Steve takes a deep breath and gives Billy’s hand a squeeze before stepping back. He smiles at Dustin cautiously.

“So the being a queer part,” he clarified, “it doesn't bother you?”

Dustin smiles.

“Do you know how many times me and my friends have been called queer? Or toothless or fat or dorky? If I thought any of those things were bad those assholes would have gotten to me. I told you; high school shit is stupid.”

“You really are the smartest person I know.” 

Steve crosses the room and gives Dustin a hug. He pats his back and Dustin pats in return. Steve’s can’t believe how brilliant and caring this kid is. He pulls back and chuckles.

“We’re family,” Dustin says before glancing quickly at Billy, “I still think he’s an asshole though.”

“He’s working on it. I used to be the asshole boyfriend remember? Now look at me.”

“You look like you need a tissue.”

Steve laughs and wipes his nose with the collar of his shirt. He then ruffles Dustin’s hair and Dustin grimaces.

“You smell like you need a shower,” Dustin points out, backing away.

“We’re, uh, kind of camping so,” Steve shrugs.

“We’re squatting,” Billy corrects him.

“Either way,” Steve sends minor eye daggers to Billy, “it doesn’t come with showers. Think you could help us find one?”

—-

Steve quietly thanks God for the cool air blasting in the video store. He’s also thankful that Mrs Henderson attends Bible study on Tuesday mornings because her convenient absence allowed for Steve and Billy some much needed hygiene at her home.

Steve’s also grateful his parents let him take one of the cars. Of course they wanted him off the property as quickly as possible so it made sense to gift him a getaway vehicle. That night was tough and Steve doesn’t like to think about it too much. He can still remember when his dad came too and his mother sobbing that they smelled like sex. It’s a good thing Billy had knocked out Steve’s father already because the man looked like he was ready to kill Steve right then and there if Billy wasn’t there to stop him.

“Hey dingus,” Robin calls out affectionately, “you feel like having a scary movie night sometime soon? I’m sure my dad would be thrilled to see me bring a boy home.”

She’s been caught up already. Steve had called her that night before heading out. The last thing he wanted was for her to show up for a pre work swim and have to confront the very irate Mr and Mrs Harrington. Steve knows that the movie offer is more a means to give him temporary refuge than a social call but he appreciates the effort.

“How would your dad feel about bringing home two boys?” Steve asks flatly.

Robin’s shelving tapes while Steve mans the front but other than the two of them there isn’t a soul in sight.

“Right,” she says, “can’t forget about your grumpy other half.”

It puts Steve on edge to talk about it in public spaces despite knowing they’re in the clear. He checks the store over just in case and then rests his gaze on the door. There’s a bell on it so really the staring isn’t necessary but Steve’s not taking any chances.

“He’s not grumpy he’s-“

“Stoic? Reserved?” Robin offers as she audibly rummages through her box of tapes, “Butch?”

Steve rolls his eyes and doesn’t give her the satisfaction of an answer. She comes around the counter and hops up to take a seat.

“Relax,” Robin stretches her arms up high, “I like your boy toy. I swear.”

“Shouldn’t you finish off that box?”

“You know the manager and I are cool. Besides I can always blame you.”

She lays backwards and dangles her torso off the counter. Her back pops and Steve shudders.

“Okay, enough,” he leaves the counter and heads for the box of tapes, “I’ll do it. And stop dicking around on the counter, you’ll get hurt.”

“Sure thing, dad,” Robin hops down and follows Steve, “Are you okay? Seriously. You seem like you’re having a bad day.”

It shouldn’t be a bad day. Steve got a shower and a Snickers for breakfast. Dustin accepts him in his newfound gay identity. Billy has an interview down at the garage. This is a good day, isn’t it?

“I’m sorry,” Steve sighs, “I guess I’m not looking forward to going back to that sweat box I’m squatting at. No power, no water. It’s awful.”

Robin gets unnaturally quiet but Steve doesn’t stop going through the second half of the box. He comes across a copy of Star Wars: Return of the Jedi. It’s a movie he’s never actually seen and he doubts Billy has either. It looks like it would be right up Dustin’s alley and it’s probably something Robin’s seen. He rummages for any other titles starting with an ‘s’.

“What are you and Billy going to do?” Robin asks solemnly as Steve makes his way to the right shelf with a stack of video tapes.

“I… I don’t know.”

There’s a greater context to that and Steve is horrified as he slowly sinks into it. This is what they’re doing now but where will they go next? For how long? It’s not common to see two guys living together and really what would be their excuse? They couldn’t pass for brothers and the mere thought of posing as such makes Steve feel a bit grossed out. They’re boyfriends not relatives but they can’t get caught.

“I think I know why I’m having a bad day,” Steve shoves the rest of the tapes on the shelf, damning any sense of alphabetical order.

Steve walks past the box, past the counter and Robin, and right up to the door. He doesn’t understand what he’s doing but can’t stop. Robin looks bewildered as Steve holds open the door to the afternoon heat. He pauses there and lets the warm air graze his cheeks. He breathes it in and it’s almost suffocating.

“Steve?”

“I’m sorry. I have to- I’m sorry,” Steve manages to apologize before taking off down the street at a brisk pace. The heat immediately clings to his body and it makes him move faster. He’s headed toward the center of town but his mind has no true destination. It’s as if his body thinks that if he keeps moving then eventually everything will feel lighter.

“Wait! Steve! Steve!”

Robin sidles up to Steve’s pace after a minute or two. The keys to the video rental store are jingling her hand. He glances at her in utter confusion but doesn’t stop. He isn’t exactly expecting a copilot on this miniature breakdown.

“I am a band nerd, you ass, we don’t run!” She berates him with a light slap on the shoulder.

This doesn’t phase him and he continues his walk at the same speed. They’ve gone about a block and a half away from the store. Out in the day to day of Hawkins only the elderly, a few housewives, and a pack of kids ditching are running about. None of them have the slightest idea of what’s going on in Steve’s head and he supposes that means he’s in good company. They move quickly and quietly out of his way.

“Where are we going?” Robin demands fiercely.

“I don’t know!” Steve shouts back at her and breaks his stride, “I don’t know where I’m going and where we are going or where anything is going! I don’t know!”

Steve’s breathing is rapid and heavy. He looks down at his hands and sees that they’re shaking. It’s not fear or anger that’s fueling him. He can’t name what it is but it feels a lot like when you’re squaring off against a monster or running for your life. Robin looks him over with a sense of unease plainly on her face. She takes one of his shaking hands and laces her fingers into it.

“Whaaa-”

But Steve doesn’t get to finish his question because Robin starts walking again. She pulls him behind her but Steve quickly adjusts and starts moving with her. His hands aren’t shaking now and his heartbeat starts to even out. He tries to question Robin again. 

“Where are we-“

“You’ll find out.”

“What about the store?”

“I’ve abandoned a job before, haven’t you?” Robin is teasing but her voice stays serious and she keeps moving.

It occurs to Steve that they’ve got a perfectly good car waiting for them back at their job but it’s too late now. Robin’s in charge of this break down and she leads him to Hawkins high and then past Hawkins high to where the trees start up again. Steve still can’t tell where this journey is going but he respectfully follows in silence. Robin takes very determined steps through the grass and small patches of fallen leaves until they come upon a massive tree and she stops. She lets go of Steve’s hand and looks at the tree with a sense of reverence.

“Climb,” she instructs Steve.

“What? Climb? Seriously?”

Robin doesn’t offer any further explanation as she’s already pulling herself up on the branches. She moves in a way that can only be described as precise. Steve mimicks her movements as best as he can but tree climbing doesn’t come naturally to him. He lags behind by a minute and pulls himself onto a large branch adjacent to the one Robin’s selected as her perch.

“Okay, I climbed, now what the fuck are we doing?”

Steve tries not to awkwardly straddle the branch. He attempts to bring both legs to one side almost like riding side saddle but decides there’s more dignity in straddling. He presses his back to the trunk of the tree. The bark is itchy but the shade keeps everything cool.

“All settled?” Robin asks sarcastically.

“As I’ll ever be,” Steve laments.

“Good, now just shut up and listen, okay?”

Robin takes a deep breath to prepare herself. Steve feels like maybe he shouldn’t be looking at her. The mood seems rather intimate and it isn’t like when she came out about herself before. There were drugs and blood then. The situation deemed a sense of vulnerability but here things feel more personal, more deliberate. Steve looks out over the town of Hawkins and really takes in the view he’s been gifted. Robin stares out as well and speaks softly, just barely loud enough to be heard by Steve.

“Tammy never loved me and she was never going to love me no matter how in love with her I was but that didn’t stop me from dreaming. I used to come up here and think about how beautiful things looked if you could just manage to put yourself above all the bull shit.

I liked to pretend that someday I’d bring her up here and then she’d understand almost like it was magic and she’d kiss me and I’d kiss her. It could all fall in place if I could just have a sign, if I could only be that brave.

But it didn’t.

And the more time I spent here the more I realized that even if Tammy felt the same way as I did, what the fuck would that mean for us? I could never take her to the movies or go to dinner. I couldn’t take her to prom. Do you know how beautiful she was at junior prom? I saw her in passing; she was getting into Kevin Laney’s car and- God, I never thought I’d ever want to be my neighbor Kevin Laney but I would have sold my soul to switch places with him for just that night, even just for a minute, so I could tell her that she’s beautiful.

I don’t have anywhere to go either whether I ever have someone or not-”

“You will,” Steve interrupts, “Robin, you are the most amazing girl in the world. If we weren’t- you know I’d-”

“I know. It’s not about that though. You’re lucky in a way; you found someone who’s like you and, sure, he’s kind of emotionally stunted and prickly but he loves you. That doesn’t make the logistics of being this way any easier. You’re actually way more likely to get found out but at least… at least you’re not alone.”

Steve doesn’t have anything to say to that. His experience in being interested in the same sex is so different from Robin’s to the point that there isn’t much to relate to. Steve’s realization was sudden and surprising whereas Robin’s was a secret she’s been sitting on for God knows how long. Steve’s in a relationship and has been in other relationships and Robin’s never been in one at all, gay or otherwise. Even the sexuality itself is different; Robin only likes women and Steve likes, well, Steve likes women and Billy and that’s all he knows right now.

“I’d give anything not to feel alone,” Robin swipes her the back of her hand across her nose to stifle a sniffle.

“You’re not alone,” Steve replies quietly, “I know I’m not- I know I can’t change how things are but we’re friends and I won’t leave you. Okay? Does that help?”

“Sure, dingus.”

She smiles at him and tosses a leaf. It floats down to the ground slowly and when Robin looks back up the light through the trees hits her features just right. Steve knows that he’d die for her because she’s beautiful and smart and brave. More than that, he’ll find a way to help her be happy because if anyone deserves to be happy it’s her.

“Y’know, there has to be other girls who like girls,” Steve says.

“Well they’re not in Hawkins that’s for sure.”

“So then let’s leave Hawkins.”

Robin rolls her eyes.

“Oh yeah, sure, let’s just leave!”

Steve listens to his own throw away comment and he lights up. His body seems to jolt with new energy, good energy.

“Why not? Yeah. Let’s leave! There has got to be somewhere out there where Billy and I can be ourselves and where you can find a girlfriend! I mean what’s the gayest place you can think of?”

“Steve, I don’t think that’s advertised in a travel brochure.”

“Okay but there has to be somewhere where it’s easier. We just have to think! And you, you’re good at research and stuff! We’ll just leave! You and me and Billy! You pick a place and Billy and I will save the money and we’ll go!”

Robin turns to face her whole body toward Steve. Her hand on the trunk keeps her steady. Steve is smiling and so satisfied with his idea. It’s so simple he wonders why he hadn’t thought of it earlier.

“You really mean it.”

“Hell yeah! Who says we have to stay in Hawkins? Let’s go.”

Robin is quiet while she thinks it over. A short distance away, Steve can hear the sound of his former high school. Technically Robin has another year there but she’s so far ahead in her classes that her senior year mostly consists of like three classes and band if Steve remembers right. He could save loads of money in a single school year and with Billy saving too they could probably buy a house in this idealized version of Gay, USA. Granted there’s still the matter of where to stay in the meantime but that’s small potatoes as far as Steve’s concerned. He has a plan and it’ll work. It has to work.

“Okay,” Robin says, “After I graduate, I’ll go. We’ll all go.”

“Yes!” Steve throws a fist in the air and loses his balance.

It isn’t until Steve hits the ground that he realizes that the same hand he’d just gestured with is now broken.

[xxxthe-grammar-nazixxx]

Shoot

This is a Robert Sheehan fanfic.  All liberties taken are mine alone. Medium level sex scene.  Based on a photo shoot that was very inspiring!  

‘OMG it’s him!’

‘Who him?’ I was too busy going through the last batch of prints at my desk to pay much attention to what my two off-siders were whispering about. They’d been giggling by the water cooler like Beavis and Butthead for the last five minutes, staring at someone in the foyer, no doubt. It never failed to amuse me how, no matter how many celebrities we met and photographed for our online entertainment magazine, my makeup artist and hairstylist could still turn into a couple of total fangirls at the sight of a pretty, famous man.

They either didn’t hear me or weren’t brave enough to say the name out loud for fear of him – whoever he was – overhearing, so I let it go and walked the prints over to reception. ‘Stella these have the name and contact details on them, can you mail them off for me?’

Stella nodded. ‘Of course. Standard post or express?’

‘It’s pretty urgent.’

‘Express post then.’

‘So, who’s my next lamb to the slaughter?’ I asked her.

‘Robert Sheehan.’

‘Who?’

Stella’s brown, perfectly made-up eyes widened. ‘Are you actually kidding me? The guy’s show is one of the biggest things on Netflix at the moment! The Umbrella Academy?’

‘Haven’t had time. Seriously, how do you people manage to binge-watch TV all day with full-time jobs?’

‘Because we’re not workaholics like you.’ Stella replied, with a laugh. ‘Seriously, you should watch it.’

I screwed up my nose. ‘Superheroes, right? Doesn’t really sound like my kind of thing.’

‘How do you know it’s not your kind of thing unless you watch it?’ Stella said, reproachfully.

‘She’s got a point, you know.’

I sighed. ‘He’s right behind me, isn’t he?’

Stella exploded into giggles. I shook my head at her and turned to find my next subject indeed right behind me.  

He smiled. ‘Not a fan, I take it?’

Hm. Roughly six foot or over, lean but not too skinny, nice green eyes, dimple – okay, I had to admit, I could sort of see what all the fuss was about. His curly dark hair could do with a comb and some product though. I knew I was thinking like a photographer but that was my default setting.

‘It’s not that,’ I told him. ‘I just … haven’t seen your show. I could be a fan.’ I winced. ‘Don’t go over to the competition, please. My boss will kill me.’

He laughed. ‘I don’t even know who the competition is, so I think you’re safe there.’

 I liked his accent too. ‘What part of Ireland are you from?’

‘Port-Laoise,’ (He pronounced it Port Leesh).  ‘I know… practically nobody’s heard of it. It’s not well-known like County Cork or Dublin. It’s a little country town.’

‘Nice. Well, Stu gave me a bit of a heads-up on where to go with this, so are you ready?’

‘Ready as I’ll ever be.’

‘Great.’ I turned to Britt and Ella. ‘You two want to stop standing over there like props and get organized?’

Britt’s jaw dropped. ‘Can we watch?’

‘That would be up to Mr. Sheehan.’

‘Just Robert’s fine. I’m no Mister,’ he joked. ‘I … okay … sure, I guess.’

‘Girls, he’s probably sick to death of being ogled at from all angles,’ I told them. ‘Ten minutes, and then you’re out.’

                                                          ****

 To their credit, Britt and Ella did an amazing job. Not that this guy needed much of anything in the way of makeup or what Britt liked to call “floofing”.  But they’d taken one look and decided on the theme. His hair had been straightened and worked into a kind of punk rock bouffant. Like Elvis, but more extreme. Black kohl liner exaggerated the olive green of his eyes. Ella had decided on a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the buttons unfastened to mid-torso. The black and white striped stretch pants looked like something Freddie Mercury would wear in the 70’s – or Michael Hutchence might have worn now, if he’d been alive. Had to admit, for all their fangirling, my employees knew how to dress a man so that you’d want to undress him!

‘Is this okay?’ He walked out of the dressing room patting down the back of his hair, self-consciously. ‘Leave it alone,’ Britt laughed, ‘You’ll wreck all my good work.’

‘It looks great. Suits you.’

‘Thanks. So um … what’s the plan?’

We worked steadily for the next ten minutes while Britt and Ella stood watching from the doorway of the dressing room. After that I gave them permission to buzz off for the day, but I hardly believed they’d take me at my word. Either way it didn’t matter – the door stayed closed. Even Stella left as she had to catch an early train.  I was on my own with a client – not something I regularly planned for as it bent the rules a little bit – but you had to see this guy to understand. I’d photographed male models before, guys whose natural beauty gave me goosebumps in all the right places. But the trouble with them was they knew it and played on it.  I’m not saying Robert didn’t fully realize the effect he had on women.  He knew. He just wasn’t arrogant about it.  In fact, if anything it was the opposite. He was hilarious. He had me in stitches in minutes. It was a good thing the camera was on a tripod because I would have dropped it for sure!

It was when I asked him to improvise a bit that things took a turn for the … well, strange. No, that’s not the word. Let’s just say that I wouldn’t have been surprised if the narrow, horizontal windows near the ceiling of my basement studio were a little bit steamed up …

 He walked toward the camera, slowly, like a tiger biding his time, waiting to pounce. I zoomed in on that face and was glad I did. His grin was like a slow burn, working its way from the pit of your stomach to your thighs. That was when I realized I was holding my breath.  He narrowed those hypnotic green eyes slightly and lifted a finger to his mouth, biting down on it seductively.  My camera kept taking pictures, but I barely noticed my role in their creation. Later I’d go back over the shots and struggle to remember taking some of them. But I never forget the video. I always film a photo shoot, especially if it’s just me in the room with a male client, which doesn’t happen all that often. I always ask permission but it’s more for my protection than theirs. Anyhow, when I returned to the video to make sure I wasn’t running out of battery or flash drive space, I watched Robert in the monitor. He was staring down at his feet, and I wondered what he was thinking about. He lifted his head slowly and glanced at something slightly to the right of the camera, letting out a shaky breath. There was a vulnerability in that one little movement where I kind of felt sorry for the guy, even though there was nothing to pity him for. He was rich, he was incredibly talented, and drop-dead gorgeous. What’s to feel bad about?

‘Are you okay?’ I asked him. ‘Do you need a break?’

He smiled as if the previous moment hadn’t even occurred. ‘No, I’m fine! Honestly, let’s keep going, I’ve got my second wind.’

‘Robert … you would tell me if you felt … objectified, right?’  

He blinked. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, I’m just saying … you must have people taking your picture all the damn time. Does it ever get old?’

He shrugged. ‘Sometimes. But that’s the job, you know. Why?’

‘I just … how can I explain this. so it makes sense …’ I bit my lip. ‘You’re a good-looking guy.’

He grinned. ‘Thank you.’

‘And you don’t even fish for compliments. That’s rare. Even when you’re telling some celebrities how great they are, they want to hear more.’

‘Yeah, I’ve met some like that. Quite a few actually.’ He motioned to the sofa under the window. ‘Come to think of it, I might take you up on that quick break, if you don’t mind.’

‘Of course not.’

I went back to reviewing some of the photos until he cleared his throat. I glanced up.

‘You’re not taking a break?’

‘Um … I wasn’t going to …’

‘Come on. Sit down for a bit. Put your feet up. I heard your receptionist say you’re a workaholic. You can relax for five minutes, you know.’

I laughed. ‘I know … All right.’ It wasn’t taking a break, in itself, that made me nervous.  I might have been driven but as far as I knew, I didn’t suffer from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. It was having to sit so close to one of the most attractive men I’d ever met, and not allowing myself to get flustered or unprofessional.  All I could think about was whether I had lipstick on my teeth or bad breath.  I ran a hand through my short blonde hair, which had recently been chopped to resemble Gwyneth Paltrow’s ‘do in Sliding Doors (thank you, Britt, you’re a doll) and wondered if he thought I looked too butch.

‘I like your hair,’ he said. ‘Is that a new cut?’

‘Yeah … I mean, thanks. How did you know?’

‘I didn’t. You just have that look of someone who had their hair cut recently but isn’t sure of it yet.’

I chuckled. ‘That’s awfully specific.’

He shrugged. ‘I like to read people. I think I’m pretty good at it.’

‘Really? What am I thinking now?’

Robert settled into the vintage chesterfield sofa and crossed one long, lean leg over the other, in my direction. He tilted his head, speculatively. ‘You’re on edge. Nervous. I have no idea why. I’m a fun guy. Not intimidating at all.’

You’re half right, I wanted to say, but that would beg the question – what was he wrong about?

‘Okay, I’ll try to remember that,’ I told him. Relaxing back against the sofa I added, ‘Better?’

‘Marginally, but you still have that tense little line between your eyes.’  He reached over and before I knew what was happening, stroked the skin between my eyebrows with his thumb. It had the odd effect of making me feel sleepy.  ‘There, that’s better.’

I managed a smile despite the tension that still sat in my neck and shoulders. ‘Is that Reiki or something?’

‘No. Just something I picked up somewhere. I forget where. I think they do it to newborn babies who are stressed. It puts them to sleep.’

‘Nearly put me to sleep,’ I admitted, feeling a blush creep into my cheeks.

‘Ah well, then, it worked.’  God, that smirk. That dimple. The confidence, along with the complete lack of arrogance, was undeniably hot. I suddenly wanted to remove my blazer, even though it was roughly 10 degrees outside and not much warmer in my studio.

‘Okay well, we’ve … we’ve had a long enough break. Let’s get back to it …’

Robert laughed. ‘It’s your shoot. What do you want me to do now?’

My face grew warmer. I could think of a few things, but they weren’t appropriate at the time and certainly aren’t printable!  ‘Well first off, a wardrobe change. Why don’t you go and have a look at what’s there?’  While he did that, I took off to the bathroom in the hallway, just outside the studio.  Splashing some water on my face, I managed to dial down the red.  Breath, check, I thought, going through the drill. Pits, check. Heart rate … going a mile a minute. Need to get that down!  Think of something totally not hot. Rupert Murdoch. Dead … anything. Warts. Yeah, that’ll do it. Rotten big carbunkles!

No matter what I did, though, when I walked back into the studio and saw him in a pair of black leather pants and a patterned black and silver shirt open all the way down, with nothing underneath but bare skin, my heart-rate spiked!  I’m going to have a bloody stroke, I realized. He’s gonna make me stroke out, the gorgeous bastard!  

Shucking off my blazer because it was now far too hot in that claustrophobic little studio, I complimented him on his choice. ‘You look like Michael Hutchence,’ I admitted. ‘If he was into wearing guyliner.’

Robert laughed. ‘Well, I’m flattered cos he was one hot piece … am I allowed to say that?’

‘Of course! I’m not about to stop you.’ Damn, I thought. He’s gay. Just my luck!

‘I’m not gay, though, not that there’s anything wrong with that,’ he added, quickly. ‘Not that you care, either, I just …’ he shot me a sideways glance. ‘I just wanted you to know.’

‘Okay.’ I think my heart stopped beating altogether somewhere amongst his garbled confession. If in fact it was a confession. I felt a bit like Forrest Gump – too slow to figure out something that should have been obvious.  Wait, I thought. Does he want me to know he’s straight because he’s into me? Or because he’s worried I’ll go to the ‘zine and spill my guts?  Inside I knew the answer to that but my self-esteem, little destroyer that it was, wouldn’t allow me to gloat.

I’m not sure how it happened. I don’t remember how I got from A to B; I just knew that I had to be kissing him right now, before I lost my nerve. He tasted like coffee and pistachios.  His cologne was something altogether fantastic: citrusy and woody and musky all at the same time. Or maybe the musk part was all him, I don’t know.  

He was a freakishly good kisser. Once the shock of my making the first move wore off, he took charge without overstating it. Which was easy for him because I’m less than five feet two in heels and he towered over me. In less than a minute he had managed to trigger every cliché in the romance writer’s arsenal: my knees were weak, my skin was covered in goosebumps and my heart was pounding like a jackhammer. I had to wind my arms around his neck to keep from dissolving into a puddle of lust on the floor, because his lips and hands were doing things to me that are illegal in some countries!  We kind of shuffle-walked back over to the sofa without breaking contact, and suddenly I was lying beside him, reaching into his shirt to hold my hand over his heart, to see if it was racing as fast as mine.  Not quite but close enough. He responded by slipping his hand beneath the hem of my shirt and running it up along my flank until it reached my bra. His lips left mine and started kissing their way down my throat.  My breath caught as his cool fingers grazed my nipple through the silk. He reached around and unfastened my bra with one hand. Hm, clever, I thought. Dexterous at the very least. How many times have you done that, I wonder? It should have been enough to put me off; to change my mind about this. But he started kissing me again and I lost all notion of caring how many women he’d been with or even what day it was.  His hand cupped my breast, this time free of the bra. He moved from my mouth to my collarbone, and pushing up my top, kissed the skin over my heart. I removed the shirt and bra in one, anxious to get as close to him as possible.  I wanted his shirt off as well. As good as it looked on him, this guy was born to not wear clothes!

He let me push it off his shoulders as his mouth made my nipples so hard they ached. My fingers delved into his thick dark hair, messing up the ‘do Britt had so carefully made look careless. His lips traced a path down the center of my torso, the short whiskers on his chin and upper lip alternating between scratching and tickling my skin. When he reached the waistband of my jeans, I had to stop him. ‘No,’ I whispered. ‘Not that. I’m not … I’m not comfortable with it.’

He glanced up at me. ‘You mean, you don’t want me to go down on you?’

I nodded. ‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t be sorry.’ He shuffled back up beside me. ‘Any particular reason?’

‘I don’t know … just … not today. Okay?’

‘Okay. That’s cool.’  He leaned in and kissed me. ‘I have other ways of making you squirm.’

I quivered at the thought. He unzipped my jeans and tugged them down a little, his hand disappeared between my thighs, cupping me and making its way beneath my underwear. ‘Actually,’ he said, in a husky voice, ‘this is almost better.’  I gasped as he started to stroke, and he grinned, and winked at me. ‘Better vantage point.’

When he had me as wet as I could possibly be, he finally let me move enough to unfasten his leather pants. Before that he’d been determined to make me ‘squirm’, as he put it, and squirm I most certainly did. I was still catching my breath when he produced a condom from a pocket I didn’t even know those pants had. ‘Should never leave me alone in the wardrobe room,’ he joked. ‘I get up to all kinds of hijinks.’

‘You brought that with you?’

‘I always have at least one with me,’ he explained. ‘In my position, I sort of have to. You have no idea how many girls throw themselves at me just because I’m famous. I do have a policy where I don’t shag my fans but … when it comes to women in general, sometimes I’m not as disciplined as I’d like to be. Like now, for instance.’

‘Oh good,’ I murmured, ‘Because I don’t have any.’  I looked up at him. He looked so beautiful lying there on his side, practically naked except for a pair of black jockey shorts and the leather pants around those knees. He kicked both off and hurriedly rolled on the rubber.

‘No rush,’ I said, with a giggle. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ I reached up and stroked his cheek. I could feel the bristle of new stubble growing through, even as Britt or Ella must have given him a shave in order to apply the makeup for the photo shoot. Those beautiful big green eyes were luminous even in the shadow from the photo-lighting. His skin was golden and his lips … suddenly I regretted my earlier reticence about oral sex. I’d experienced it before of course but it was always awkward, messy and felt almost like an obligation, on both sides. And it almost never, ever made me feel like he’d made me feel a moment ago, with his hand. I wanted to be able to explain that to him but felt stupid and almost prudish. Instead I took him in hand and fondled him until he closed his eyes and bit down hard on his lower lip. Taking that as a signal he was ready to go, I shucked my own pants off and pulled him close, sliding my leg over his hip. He was cautious at first, probably worried about blowing his load too early, but the feel of him inside me was almost too much, anyway. It reignited what had been simmering away for the last few minutes, with a pleasure so sharp it was almost pain.

‘Are you okay?’

I nodded. ‘Keep going.’

He did, but slowly, and we kissed as if we had all the time in the world. He raised himself up on his elbows over me, and I responded by wrapping my legs around his slim hips, holding him inside. His new position gave him leverage, and strength to go harder and faster. Pretty soon it was only a kiss every other thrust, and I don’t know about him, but I felt like I was about to burst out of my skin.

Suddenly, just as I arched my back with release, and he did the same seconds later, I heard a shrill beep, and remembered.

I hadn’t turned the camcorder off.

 THE END.

[a-painintheneck]

Clock Is Ticking - Personal Pt. 1

72 hours to Blood Moon

There’s a knock on the door. Strange because not many people come to visit him nowadays. At first, Malachi assumes its either Henryk, Anne or even Ash. You know, someone relatively known by him. When he opens the door he comes face to face with a man he’d never seen before. Shorter than him, butch, tribal tat on his neck. He asks if he can come inside and Malachi steps away from the door to let him in. Human. He can tell by the cacophonous sound of his heartbeat and the smell. Humans had a certain smell to them. This man. Either foolishly brave or suicidal. He steps into the foyer, hands resting on his waist as he inspect the place, then turns to look at him. His name pours from his lips with boldness.  “Malachi Thorn?” The vampire responds with a tilt of the head. “I have a couple of questions to ask you.” Watcher. Which meant that he was probably armed to the teeth. Yet, if provoked, Malachi could easily rip his head off without breaking much of a sweat. Watchers were handicapped by their mortality. “Just so you know, the Watch Tower knows where I am so if anything happens to me or if I fail to report in half an hour this place will be surrounded and we will set it on fire with you inside.”

He holds out a picture for him. Asking him if he had seen the boy. Goofy smile, curly hair. Yes, he has seen the boy. Saw him pissed his pants. Saw him look back at him in horror as his life was snuffed away. Saw his eyes sockets begin to decompose inside his detached head as he shoved it in a box and left it on Kolya’s porch. Of course, he denied all of it. “I’m not scared of you.” Oh yes, suicidal. All Malachi gave in return was a smile. One that stretched from ear to ear and gave away his cruelty. “I know you were there, at the Miller’s home. Watcher, we - like to know everything that goes on in this town.” The Watcher said, snatching the photo from his cold hands and placing it back in the file he was carrying.

“I’m on to you, vampire.”

54 hours to Blood Moon

“The ritual needs to be done on a Blood Moon, exactly. A total Lunar eclipse. The next one is in a few days… the 20th, to be exact.”

The visit with Aria leaves him with more anxiety than before. They are running out of time. And he knows more than anyone that desperate times -

“Here you go”, the man growls with a grin as he tosses what he’s carrying on the table. Malachi moves curiously. Blue eyes scanning the several photographs that have been placed in front of him. A hand reaches down to pull out from the bunch and he brings it closer to his face. He inspects it carefully. The image of a man in his 50’s, grey hair and blue eyes that hold the shine of a man with a sharp mind and a keen sense of perception. “His name is Rupert Krane. He and his lady friend, get quite cozy with each other. Kissing. With their mouths. Humans are so disgusting. I think …” Malachi interrupts him with a snort, his eyes still glued to the picture. “I didn’t hire you to have an opinion. He’s a Professor, you say?” He takes a deep breath and focuses on the rest of the images. “An expert when it comes to Ashbourne Mythology. Worked closely with the Major at one point. He’s seen the Oculus.”

“I need you to get him for me.” Mort looks irritated, but he shakes his head nonetheless. “And then we’re even? I don’t owe you anything?” Malachi releases a soft devilish chuckle. “Aw, Mortimer. It’s not my fault you’re so bad at poker.” When the vampire gives him that, don’t call me Mortimer look, Malachi sighs. “Fine, after this we’re done. You can go back to doing whatever it is you do. Just call me when you have him. You do know how to use that phone, right?”

42 hours to Blood Moon

Mort’s voice is shaky, but he has asked him to meet at some abandoned warehouse. It smells like gasoline the moment he sets foot in that place. Malachi sees Mort, staring there with what seemed like a piece of wood perforating his stomach. And someone sitting on a chair, hands tied to the wooden arm rest and a bag over his head. “Old man can fight.” Yes, all former watchers can fight.  Malachi smiles and pulls the bag to reveal his guest’s face. “Rupert Krane. Such an honor."

Malachi gives Rupert a wide smile. He has never met the man but he knows who he is by reputation. Malachi turns his gaze towards Mort, who seems desperate to leave that place. "I’m done. Y-you said I was done.” Malachi exhales, he’s getting irritated with this particular vampire. He has to hand it to him though, he managed to bring him what he wanted. “Yes, Mort. On your way.” He waits to be alone with Rupert to continue talk again. “I was attempting to be courteous Rupert. Just because we are meeting under such dire circumstances, doesn’t mean that I can’t be civil, right?” Malachi drags an empty hair and places it in front of the Professor. Then, he proceeds to straddle it. The smile never leaving his face. “You have no idea why you’re here, do you? Let me explain. You, are here to help me find something. O know you’re on vervain and I can’t compel you. And since I’m under a time crunch I’m going to have to bleed it out of you."

40 hours to Blood Moon

It takes two hours for the vervain to leave his system. Two hours of Malachi bleeding him out and healing him with his blood. Even in his weakened state, the man struggles in his chair. A useless waste of time. “Please, check my front pocket.” The man, pleads. And Malachi digs his fingers inside the front pocket of his jacket. It feels like a small velvet box, that fits perfectly in his palm. When he pulls it out and he sees what it is, he laughs. “Aw, seriously?” He opens it to unveil the ring that was inside of it. Blue eyes inspects it. “You old dog! When were you planning on asking the big question?" There is anger in Rupert’s face. Anger mixed with sorrowful and pleading eyes. “Please, just give it to her. It was my mother’s” Malachi licks his lips, approaching him once again, placing the ring back in his pocket and tossing the box on the floor. “You can give it to her yourself.” Lies. Rupert won’t be going anywhere. They still need a heart and his would do just fine. With the vervain out of his system, he can compel him now. Malachi takes a hold of his chin and forces their eyes to meet. “Now, I need you to tell me everything you know about the Proculum Mortis.”

The phone is in his hand, and his hand shakes. When he dials Henryk’s number he feels a sickening taste in his mouth. “I know how to find it.” He knows, he just doesn’t want to say it. He has to though. There’s no other way.

No other way.

[lolainblue]

Thunderbirds   Chapter: 34

t/w  Medical references

   I was lying on a bed in a cool, dimly lit room and a television was flickering softly in the corner. My vision was somewhat fuzzy but I could just make out someone sitting on a chair next to me, their attention on the nearly muted screen. This, combined with the acerbic odor of disinfectant and the soft beeps of monitoring equipment told me I was in a hospital, but I couldn't remember why. I tested my limbs, things seemed to still be in place and responding to my instructions, but my vision hadn't quite resolved and my head was pounding. I couldn't see who was in the room with me so I took my best guess.

   “Roger?” I asked, my voice surprisingly weak and hoarse. The figure in the chair moved, and I realized it was too big to be Roger.

   “Butch?” came the response. That was my brother Mitch's nickname for me, earned when, at the age of six, I beat up the neighbor boy who had two years and about twenty pounds on me. Why was Mitch here?

   “Mitch? What are you doing here?” I asked. He got up from his seat and reached for something behind me.

   “Well, fun fact, it's generally two and half hours from Terre Haute to St. Louis, but it's only about 90 minutes when your kid sister is being rushed to the hospital with a head injury.”

   “I have a  head injury?” was all I could say. Everything was very foggy. I didn't remember getting hurt.

   “Grade Three concussion kiddo. Well done.”

   Someone else came into the room just then and I realized Mitch must have been reaching back to hit the nurse call button. The woman in scrubs that materialized at my bedside was slightly plump with curly dark hair and a reassuring smile. “Hello sweetie,” she said, squeezing my arm.  “Good to have you back with us again. Can you tell me your name?”

   “Jane. Jane Sewell.”

   The nurse gave me that reassuring smile again. “Good job. And who's this well-built gentleman at your side?”

   I considered giving her a smart ass answer but thought maybe this wasn't the best time. “This is my brother Mitchell.”

   “Good.” She shone a flashlight into my eyes and nodded. “Do you remember who I am?”

   “I... no.” I didn't think I'd seen her before. Was this a trick question? She patted my hand.

    “I'm Susan,” she supplied. “Do you know where you are?”

   “The hospital, I guess.”

   “Do you know why?”

   “Mitch says I have a head injury.”

   “Yes, but do you remember that?” I shook my head in response and my stomach lurched. “Try not to move your head too much dear. Do you know what the date is?”

   I thought for a minute. “September. No.” Not September. I knew it was summer and I was with Shannon on his tour, why did I say September? “July. Seventh maybe?”

   “It's the ninth,” Mitch supplied.

   “How long was I out?” I asked with alarm.

   “Just about 5 minutes initially,” Mitch explained. “But you keep going in and out and you're not remembering things. It's still the same day though.” He was frowning and looking very concerned. Susan turned her reassuring smile on him.

   “That's perfectly normal this soon after a concussion of this severity. It's nothing to worry about. The doctor will do some more tests in the morning.”

   She fussed with the monitors by my bed for a minute and then excused herself. I could feel panic rising up. Everything was so fuzzy. What if this was permanent? My vision swam even further as my eyes started to fill with tears.

   Mitch sat back down in his chair and took my hand. “It's okay kiddo. We're going to get you through this. Please don't cry. It will all look better tomorrow. You'll see."

   We sat quietly for a while, while I tried to remember more about what had happened. I think Mitch was waiting to see if I would pass out again. “Can I try asking you a question again, Jane? Roger didn't exactly explain things very well.”

   “Where is Roger?” I asked. It seemed strange that Mitch was the only one there with me.

   “That's part of the question. The last time I spoke to you, you were going to take a few days off from your nice quiet book tour to rest up since the girls were sick and your visit was canceled. How did we get from there to Roger helping Jared Leto bail your boyfriend the drummer out of jail for beating up your fiance?”

    I think I would have had a hard time sorting that sentence out even if I hadn't had a head injury. “Uhm... what? Shannon is in jail?”

   Mitch nodded. “And so is Angus, although from what I can gather no one is unhappy about that. I know I'm not.”

   Mitch had never liked Angus. I wrote it off as protective older brother syndrome. God, how many warning signs had I ignored? I couldn't remember why Angus was here though or why Shannon would have been in a fight with him and I still didn't know what had happened to me. “I don't know exactly. How many times have we had this discussion, Mitch?”

   “About three. And you'll probably forget this conversation too, so I'm going to tell you good riddance to that guy. I always thought he was shifty. And I love you, Butch. Don't you ever scare me like this again.”

   When I woke up again the room was still dark and the TV was off but there was light coming in from the hallway. I could feel something heavy pressing down on my stomach and my still rebellious eyes could just make out the head of someone who had fallen asleep there.

   “Mitch?” I asked, my voice a little stronger than before. I reached for their hair and realized it was too dark to be Mitch or Roger. “Shannon?”

   He quickly sat up and turned his head to me. His face looked distorted even after he leaned forward and it took me a minute to realize it wasn't my vision this time. He had a large bruise on one side of his face and his lip was split.

   “Janey, hey, you're awake,” he said, a big smile filling his face. “Do you need anything?”

   I started to shake my head but remembered Susan's earlier admonishment. “No. Well, maybe some water.”

   He poured me a cup from the little bedside pitcher and inserted one of those bendy straws in it, the ones I remembered being so excited to get in my milk in kindergarten. He held the cup for me while I took a drink, and the cool liquid felt good on my parched throat. With a sigh I let my head fall back to the pillow. “What happened?” I asked.

   “Well, in true Jane fashion, you managed to trip over your own feet and hit your head on the only rock in giant cleared field.” The voice was Roger's this time, and as he spoke he emerged from the shadows of the room. His face was unblemished but his arm was in a sling.

   “Well, that explains me, what the hell happened to you two?”

   They exchanged significant looks before Roger finally answered. “When the paramedics got there Angus tried to convince them that you two were actually married and that we were your junkie buddies come to seduce you back into a life of crime and depravity.”

   “He had something, Jane, some paperwork...” Shannon interjected but Roger made a hushing motion.

   “I called Mitch right away but by the time the cops got on scene and they were getting ready to take you away in the ambulance, well you were really out of it and Angus got you confused and you told them it was true.”

   “I did what?” I asked. "I told them what?"

   “I figured we needed a distraction. So I decked him,” Shannon said, unable to hide his satisfaction at finally getting a swing in at Angus.

   “It pretty much turned into an all-out brawl from there,” Roger continued.

   “I had to get eight stitches,” Shannon informed me with a proud grin, showing me a spot on his scalp. I gingerly threaded my fingers through his hair to touch the bandage.

   “And I sprained my wrist,” Roger explained, raising his arm. “But the cool thing is, Angus punched a cop.”

   “That's cool?” I asked, confused.

   “It means he's still sitting in jail right now and we're probably going to be getting off with a warning. Jared already called the lawyers.” Shannon explained.

   Well, it wasn't nearly the amount of trouble Angus deserved but at least I didn't have the worry of dealing with him hanging over my head anymore. “Wait, what paperwork? You said he showed them paperwork?”

   “I don't know exactly, Jane,” Roger told me while shooting Shannon another look. I figured that was pretty much bullshit but I didn't have the energy right now to argue. “I remember,” I said.

   Roger looked hopeful. “You remember what happened?”

   “No. But I remember waking up before when you guys weren't here yet. That's the first time I've remembered something since they brought me in here I think. So that's an improvement right?”

   “Sure it is,” Roger said, leaning over to kiss my forehead. “What's the last thing you remember before that?”

   I reached back through the fog. “Soundcheck. You and I were watching the guys do their soundcheck and you kept checking your phone.”

   Roger nodded. “Noemi called me that morning. She said Angus was acting funny and she thought he might have figured out something was up. She was supposed to call me back when she knew more. Of course, I never dreamed he'd show up in St. Louis...”

   “Oh, Shit!” I exclaimed and was immediately sorry as the throbbing in my head exploded into a red haze. I gritted my teeth before continuing. “What about the show?”

   Shannon sighed. “We didn't play. We were too busy trying to convince the police that we weren't some mastermind criminals out to do you harm.”

   I winced. “I'm so sorry Shannon. I hope you guys aren't in too much trouble.”

   “No, it's going to be okay. But I do have to be in Milwaukee for the next show day after tomorrow.” He looked at the clock. “Or tomorrow I guess.”

   “And your shoot Roger?” I asked, knowing full well that Roger would never leave me like this.

   “Forget about it. It's just one job. I need a little time off anyway.”

   “Well, I guess we can drive to Milwaukee once they cut me loose tomorrow. We should have plenty of time to get there before they need him. Or maybe we could catch a flight in the morning?” I wanted to catch up with the band as soon as possible and put this sorry state of affairs behind me.

   “No, no, no, Miss-50-First-Dates. You're not going anywhere for a couple of days and then it's straight to Mitch's until you're cleared to fly.”

    I started crying, even though I couldn't quite articulate why. “My tour?” I asked between sniffles.

   “Last two weeks are canceled.”

    I considered the mess I had made: Mitch's mad dash across state lines, Angus in jail for assaulting a police officer, Shannon on bail, the guy's injuries, the missed performance, Roger's canceled gig and two weeks worth of canceled appearances for me. “Am I in trouble?”

   “No, no one is in trouble. Accidents happen, promoters have insurance to cover these things, everything is going to be just fine. Stop worrying and just get better.” Roger fiddled with his phone for a minute, contemplating something, before continuing. “Mitch fell asleep in the lounge. I'm going to update him. Be right back.”

    Once Roger was gone I scooted as far over in the bed as I could. “Lay down with me for a few minutes?” I asked Shannon.  Carefully he climbed into the small space next to me, tangling me up in his arms and legs and with great care, pulling my head against his warm chest. “I'm sorry for getting you mixed up in all this,” I told him. I was beginning to feel like I had blown into his life like an F5 tornado, leaving chaos and destruction in my wake. “I've really managed to turn your life upside down. Maybe Jared was right about me after all.”

   “No he wasn't and he doesn't think so either. Don't worry about all this. It will be fine. At least you're back in my life. I'll take whatever happens from there.” He pushed an errant curl back from my forehead. “Go back to sleep. They said you're going to be tired for a while and the doctor will be here early.”

   I wanted to argue but I could already feel my limbs growing heavier and my breath deepening. At least my nostrils were now filled with Shannon's familiar notes instead of the hospital.

   “Good morning, Jane, I'm Dr. Britton. How are you today?” Once again someone was shining one of those annoying lights in my eyes and I was finding my patience was nil this morning.

   “Tired.” I snapped. “Ready to get out of here.”

   “Well let's see what we can do to make that happen.” The tall woman in front of me seemed completely unconcerned with my foul mood, her smile never wavered. “Can you tell me where you are?”

   “Some hospital in St. Louis.”

  “Barnes-Jewish Hospital, as a matter of fact. Can you tell me the date?”

    I sighed. It wasn't even breakfast time yet and this was already the second questioning I had endured since waking. “September 9th. Well, I guess it would be the tenth now.”

   “And the year?”

   “2003.”

   “Good girl.” Great. I felt like a Pomeranian. She paused to check my reflexes before moving on and then seemingly satisfied, gestured to the guys who gathered expectantly around my bed. “And you know all these people and their relation to you?”

   “Yes, that's my big brother Mitch. That's my best friend Roger, and my boyfriend, Shannon.”

   “Very good. Okay, I'm going to give you a list of things and I want you to repeat it back to me. Tomato, Star, Girl, Red, Box.”

   “Tomato. Star. Er...” I hesitated for a moment. “Girl. Red. Uh... box.”

   “Good.” She made a few notes on my chart. “How's the headache today? Any better?”

   “Not really, no.”

   “Dizziness? Nausea?”

   “Only every time I move my head,” I answered, not bothering to hide my irritation.

   “Can you repeat that list again?”

   “Uhm. Red...” No matter how hard I tried I couldn't conjure the rest of the items from my memory. “No, sorry.”

   Dr. Britton patted my leg reassuringly. “It's okay. You're improving. Do you remember meeting me when they brought you in yesterday?”

   “No.” I'd have testified in court that I had never seen this woman before, that was how sure I was. I was apparently completely mistaken.

   “That's not unusual. You may never get the memory back of the moments immediately surrounding your accident. I don't want you to worry about that. You seem to be bouncing back very well today. We'll run some more tests this afternoon. You should expect to feel tired for a while, repairing a brain is hard work, but the dizziness and nausea should pass. We'll keep an eye out for any other symptoms. I'm going to have a word with your brother now, okay?” She stepped into the hallway with Mitch, closing the door behind them. I looked to Roger and Shannon, who were still in their clothes from yesterday, looking exhausted. I felt so bad. I hated being the source of all this drama.

   Shannon sat down on the edge of the bed and took my hand in his. “They're not going to let me out of here. I'm not going to be able to go to Milwaukee with you.” I complained.

    Shannon's voice was stern when he responded. “You have no business living out of a tour bus right now anyway, Jane. You gave us the scare of our lives yesterday. You can't think you're just going to hop back up today and go on like nothing happened.”

   “I don't want you to go. I know you can't stay but I'm not ready to lose you yet.” I could feel an ache growing in my chest that had nothing to do with any injuries.

   “You're not losing me. I'm going to be on tour until the end of August and as soon as you're able to you can come catch up with me. And I've got a couple of days off next week, I can come see you. It'll be okay Janey, I promise.” He gripped my hand tightly and I could see that he wasn't any happier about leaving me behind than I was having him go, no matter how brave a face he was putting on it.

   “It doesn't feel like it.” I burst into tears, which just made my head hurt that much more. “I'm sorry.”

   Shannon leaned in as far as he could before pulling my head against his chest. “Don't worry about it. Doc said you might have some trouble regulating your emotions. I just need you to take care of yourself and get better okay?”

   “Okay.” I sniffled.

   I got poked, prodded and questioned so much the rest of the day I was ready to slap anyone that came near me with one of those little flashlights or a cart. They ended up deciding to release me to Mitch's care with instructions to follow up locally with a doctor in Terre Haute. I was not to get on a plane to fly back to New York until that doctor cleared me. Roger had had the presence of mind to get my luggage off the tour bus before they left town, and Mitch loaded it and me into his minivan for the drive back to his place. Roger and Shannon headed for Milwaukee. When I watched them drive off I sobbed like a little girl who'd lost her teddy. It seemed once again Shannon and I were parting in tears.

@msroxyblog @nikkitasevoli @maliciousalishious@meghan12151977 @mustlove6277 @fyeahproudglambert @little-poptart @lady-grinning-soul-k @pheenixpeterson

[3dnygma]

Forged Performance

“After being awoken from a cold slumber, Ed finds himself at the Sirens - which is now called the Iceberg Lounge. Due to having no memory of how he managed to get himself frozen, he is more than delighted to meet his best friend again. However, Ed quickly realizes that Oswald is hiding something from him and acting unusually different. And Edward Nygma hates being unaware of the truth.”

Relationship: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma

General Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 2944

AO3 Link

Dedicated to @endless-nygmobblepot for being such a wonderful beta-reader and everyone on twitter who gave me feedback regarding the plot <3 I hope you guys enjoy this angst!

Waking up, the first memory that came to Edward Nygma’s mind was the torturing and seemingly never-ending cold that had surrounded his body. It had entered through his arms, crawled over his shoulders and laughed into his terrified face. When? Why? He couldn’t remember. He wasn’t even certain for how long his blood had been frozen instead of liquid– and he hated to be unaware of it.

His body was wet and cold, although hardly as cold as in the ice block, and moving his stiff limbs turned out to be more of a challenge than he had originally expected. Ed decided to focus on his eyes instead, as his surroundings were too quiet for him to gather any information through his ears. Luckily, the lighting was superb. Light enough to give Edward’s eyes the possibility to explore the area, yet not too bright to blend him.

Due to these circumstances, it was frankly easy for Ed to determine his location: The Sirens. Well, not quite the Sirens – what used to be the Sirens would be a better description. The interior design had changed a lot, compared to when he had visited it for the last time. Said occasion had been the night in which Edward managed to expose Butch and his Red Hood act in front of Oswald and the most important individuals of Gotham City. Simply looking back to that memory managed to draw a smile on Edward’s face.

That one, however, faded quickly, as he came to the realisation that he must have been on ice for weeks, months even. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have been possible to change the decoration to…blue neon lights shaped like umbrellas. And black penguin statues. What happened to Barbara and Tabitha that would make Oswald be in charge of the Sirens? Edward knew that Oswald used to run Fish Mooney’s former club for a limited amount of time. Nevertheless, he hadn’t thought that Oswald would come back to having a club – while being mayor of Gotham City, at least.

Too many questions, not enough answers. Those questions doubled after Ed heard one of the doors opening behind him, followed by two voices. One being familiar, one not quite as much. Ed was still sitting on the floor, too exhausted and shivering from the ice to stand up and head to the source. As the unfamiliar voice vanished, Ed heard limping steps approaching him. More than relieved, he sighed.

“Oswald.” He managed to state, his voice being more of a whisper. “Thank god.”

The Penguin didn’t say anything. He simply went up to Ed, kneeled down in front of him and replied with a strong hug, wearing an usually frigid expression. Ed was surprised at first, yet ended up returning the hug within a second. Oswald’s warmth was a true blessing for his soaked body and he ended up holding the other tighter than he would have under average conditions.

Oswald eventually let go of him, took Ed’s right hand and helped him stand up. Now, Ed was finally able to view the club in all of its extravagant glory. It felt like the Penguin’s castle more than the Van Dahl mansion ever could and figuratively screamed “Oswald Cobblepot.” The other noticed Edward’s stare and, for a moment, Ed thought that Oswald would say something about it. However, it seemed like Oswald changed his mind in the end, as he kept quiet and waited for Ed to start the conversation by asking questions. The mayor knew his chief of staff too well.

Ed started with the most obvious one. “Oswald, for how long was I in this…?”

Too impatient to await Oswald’s reply, Ed turned around and looked at the cold water that had soaked him. The floor was full of it and he noticed that, right behind where he had been laying, a giant and empty podium was located. Next to it, a black hat. His own hat?

Before he could spend another thought on it, Oswald’s voice made him turn around once more. “What was the last thing that you remember? Your last clear memory?”

That question was relatively easy to answer. “We were at the mansion, I thanked you for saving my life, we talked a bit and then went to sleep.” It was a very fond memory. His throat had been sore and it had made talking more difficult for Edward – but thanking Oswald had been his priority.

“I hope that you know, Oswald…I would do anything for you. You can always count on me.”

And he still meant it, truly. Every sentence, word, and syllable.

Oswald nodded, as if he had already expected that answer from Ed. “Well, Tabitha and Butch stayed hidden. Seems like they got contacted by some of Fish Mooney’s freaks and spilled some crucial information. You remember Victor Fries, don’t you? He was the one who...did this to you.”

Edward frowned. Surely, that was an explanation – but one filled with several holes nonetheless. He took a short breath. “Alright, but-“

“We’ll have time to talk about the details later.” Oswald announced with a slightly passive-aggressive smile. “I can assure you that everything is alright. You and I are not in danger anymore, Ed.” Edward suddenly felt like a child that was being lectured by his parent.

The Penguin added, “You must be terribly cold. There’s a bath prepared for you in Tabitha’s and Barbara’s former apartment.”

Right, there was one in this building, a few levels under the club. Ed loved the idea of taking a relaxing bath, yet he felt like Oswald was almost forcing him to. Besides, why was it already prepared for him? Damnit, he had to shake those thoughts off for once. Oswald was doing all of this for him and in times of trouble, he could always trust Oswald.

“Thank you, I’d appreciate that.”

And he did. The warm water and a certain bubble bath that smelled like pines managed to rehabilitate Edward a bit and cured him of the frostbitten temperature. As he stared at the perfectly clean white floor next to him, his mind started to wonder. It seemed like he wouldn’t get rid of all those nagging questions anytime soon. Oswald hadn’t only prepared a bath for him, but also one of Ed’s suits for him to wear. The one that he had worn at the Mayor’s party, to be exact. Ed quickly put it on and attempted to style his hair a bit in order to prevent it from becoming too curly, then went back to the Club, where Oswald seemed to have been waiting for him.

“Now, my friend, let me show you my pride and Gotham City’s newest establishment: The Iceberg Lounge.” Oswald stated while grabbing Ed’s shoulder and leading him through the place. Ed quickly understood Oswald’s pride, the place seemed quite inviting, yet at the same time noble and cool.

Edward smiled, his eyes still scanning the decorations. “It must have taken quite an effort to modify the Sirens like this.”

Oswald countered with a nod. “Right, it took us about three months in total. Do you like it?”

So Ed had managed to survive in the giant ice block for at least three months. From a scientific point, it was quite impressing to him – from a personal point, it was shocking to hear how many days of his life he had missed in what felt like a heartbeat. Like those coma patients you hear about in your everyday soap operas.

Despite his sudden distress, Ed nodded, marveling at the decor. “It’s beautiful. I couldn’t picture any other place that would fit you better than this one.”

That managed to flatter Oswald, as Ed spotted his cheeks reddening a little. “Oh, stop it. Let me show you the rest of the Lounge.”

And after they had walked around the area, Edward ended up staring at the empty podium again, questioning its sheer existence. Although Oswald was staring into a completely different direction, Edward had the strange feeling that the other knew exactly what he was thinking about and reacting before Ed might be asking any tricky questions.

“And that’s it! By the way, you must be hungry after all that time in the ice.”

Ed paused. “I…actually am hungry. But there is something that-“

The Penguin moved his pointy finger. “Promise, I’ll explain everything to you tomorrow. But for now, you need to relax and gain some energy. You should know that physical health is just as important as problems that might be bugging your brain.”

As Edward realized that there wasn’t anything that he could do about it, he nodded. It made him shut up but, as they walked to the dining room, he kept wondering. Oswald was attempting to keep something secret from him and Ed didn’t like it at all. He also hated feeling like a soulless doll that was told to do exactly what its owner wanted. Hopefully, this strange behavior of Oswald was only happening due to the times that he had spent without Edward and how much he was worried about his best friend.

Just like every other part of the Lounge, the dining hall was simply impressive. A little too much blue and gold for Edward's taste but he could see where Oswald was coming from. And much to his surprise, the table was already filled with a remarkable amount of dishes. Meat, pie, casserole – anything one could imagine. Calm music was playing and candles were enlightening the room.

It was strange, comparing this dinner to the Take-Out that they had ordered back when Oswald was staying at Edward’s apartment. How far they’d come. Ed gazed at Oswald and, for a second, they both smiled at each other. And once again, Oswald answered a question that Ed hadn’t even spent much thought on.

“I thought it was nice to have this just between the two of us.” That explained the fact that Ed hadn’t seen a single staff member since his awakening from the ice. In a way, Oswald’s effort was extremely genuine and something that not everyone would do for their best friend. Reacting to Oswald's suggestive gesture, Ed took a seat at the other end of the table and started eating. And God, how wonderfully tasty it was. He took some of the soup, then the chicken and some pie.

Words weren’t really exchanged, due to them both enjoying their meal. However, Ed sometimes had the feeling that Oswald was staring at him, as if he was expecting some strange reaction from Ed. At least Edward didn't feel like having his mind read anymore. After they were done eating, Ed noticed that Louis Armstrong’s version of La Vie En Rose had started to play, much to his own comfort; He had always appreciated that song in the past. And the Penguin seemed to notice Ed’s positive reaction, so why was he suddenly making a nervous impression?

Ed frowned after the other cleared his throat. “Oswald, is something the matter?”

Oswald took a deep breath. “…Ed.” A pause accompanied by a quick smile. “A man comes to a crossroad in his life and he has to make a choice.” While Ed was leaning forward, Oswald’s voice stiffened. “Does he choose safety and cowardice…or does he opt for courage, risk everything?”

What Oswald was saying had similarities with a monologue that an actor would practice for a play – or a project that had to be presented by some high school students. Something was bound to happen and Ed wasn’t quite sure whether he was ready for it. However, before Ed could even consider answering the Penguin's question, Oswald continued.

“I choose courage. What I’m trying to say is…the thing I have been wanting to tell you for a while now-“

“Oswald.” Ed tried to hide his emotions and state the following sentence as a fact, not fully managing to do so. “I know you – you’re my best friend. And I know it when you’re hiding something from me.”

For the first time today, Edward had said something that Oswald wasn’t prepared for. Instead of countering with a short excuse or shallow promise, he was speechless.

Ed used that pause in order to elaborate on his concern, standing up and walking towards his friend. “Almost everything that you’ve been saying today seemed…staged. And you’ve been avoiding every essential question that I’ve faced you with.”

Now standing next to Oswald and staring down at him, Edward raised his voice. “Something happened between that night at the Sirens and today, a puzzle that you don’t want me to solve. Please, I just want to know the truth regarding all of-“

And for the second time today, Oswald acted unpredictably. Because instead of standing up and talking to Edward face-to-face, Oswald grabbed Ed’s tie and pulled him down to him. The next thing that Ed perceived was the soft feeling of Oswald’s lips and the warmth that he had felt back when they had hugged earlier today. Only that this was different. More personal, more intimate…more honest. After a brief moment of surprise, he gave in and returned the kiss, suddenly realizing that maybe this was the way he had always felt about his best friend.

Eventually, he pulled back, taking a deep breath and gazing into Oswald’s wide eyes, his own voice sounding more like a whisper. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you.”, Oswald whispered back, excited and anxious at the same time.

And Ed remembered how they had stared at each other after Oswald had saved his life. How they had talked at the mansion later that night. How he had gone to sleep afterwards, not knowing where to place that subconscious feeling. It made sense now – and if the current conditions had been different, Ed would have had a more light-hearted approach to it. But this…this didn’t feel like an actual confession. It was rushed, like something that Oswald had to do right now, as if it wouldn’t be possible after this dinner was over.

And that realization confirmed his concerns. “What really happened between us, Oswald? If you’re talking about choosing courage, then do it. Tell me the truth.”, he asked as his voice gained more strength.

Finally, Oswald stood up in order to truly face him with a pained expression, covered in a chuckle. “You always end up asking those questions, don’t you? Is it so bad for me to want just a single day with you?” His volume increased, grabbing Edward’s arm. “One day where we can finally abandon our past and pretend that everything's perfect?”

The Penguin’s eyes got wet and Edward was overwhelmed by all these sudden events. Anger started hitting him. “So you’re keeping up this mellow show because you’re in denial and scared to move on? God, Oswald, I just want to know the truth!”

Within seconds, they were screaming at the other, neither of them wanting to give in. Maybe that’s why something like a romantic relationship between them could only work in their own fantasies. Maybe they were both incapable of true love.

Suddenly, Oswald’s screams turned into one single word. “Help!” And quickly after, Ed heard steps approaching him from behind, just like those he had heard after waking up. His body started shivering, which seemed to be a mix of the slight change in temperature and the subconscious feelings that something was coming to get him. But instead of turning around, he kept his eyes fixated on Oswald, who was suddenly giving into sadness again.

“I’m sorry, Edward.” After he whispered those last words, sounding similar to a death sentence, he pushed Edward as far away from him as possible. Before Ed could turn around and face the true danger behind him, he heard a peculiar, mechanic sound and, all at once, it hit him again: the freezing pain and pure darkness.

Wiping the tears from his face, the Penguin watched the procedure – and once Edward Nygma was fully frozen again, he sighed, then looked up to Victor Fries.

Worried, Victor disclosed, “Two more minutes and he might have killed you.”

Even though Oswald wanted to let his anger out on Victor, he knew that it wouldn’t profit either of them. “I know…thank you.” He took a deep breath, looking at the floor. “I managed to get so far today, there must be a way to keep him satisfied until-“

“Until you can fall asleep next to him, then freeze him and say goodbye for good?”, Fries inquired, then added. “This has been the fifth time within two months, he might not survive the next procedure.”

“Don’t worry, it will be the last time.”

Victor sighed. “Just like today was supposed to be the last time.” And quite surprisingly, he added, “Just admit it to yourself, you’re nothing better than a junkie who’s telling himself that this is going to be his final shot. He’s going to die before you’re going to end up having your perfect day.”

Gritting his teeth, Oswald replied, “Then I suppose he’ll have to.” He didn’t care if it meant risking his own or Edward’s life. Or whether it was even possible to share a positive outcome with Ed without telling him everything about Isabella and their hellish circle of revenge. He would try again, make more preparations and learn his lines like a professional actor.

Because he was the performer – and Edward Nygma, having amnesia with each awakening, was the audience. And Oswald Cobblepot wouldn’t stop until he could satisfy the audience with a forged, yet pleasing, performance.

[dykedykegooses]

i'm askin u every single even numbered question for the lesbian ask game

at least you didnt bother with the algebra this time, for which i am thankful

Femme or butch?

i’m more femme but i try to act butch sometimes and i just end up failing hopelessly. ‘look mom i know how to put air in a tire!!’ ‘peyton thats like… not even right’ or ‘oh SHIT look at that blitz!! that was cool’ ‘peyton that was a sack’ ‘oh’

Do you have a “type”? If so, describe it

not really, mostly just like… humor. if u funny we click

Plaid button-ups or leather jackets?

why not both?

no but seriously plaid tbh

Describe your style

um yes

converse, (ripped? sometimes) jeans, and whatever top i feel is appropriate for the Big Aesthetic today

Describe your aesthetic

yes

ive tried going more punk but its just kinda , not worked

my physical aesthetic is very adultolescent. i got chub and look like a freshman but ive been told i pass as a college senior so like

my Big Mood aesthetic is yes

Favorite article of clothing?

either my converse or my “”combat boots”” (theyre not and it makes me sound like an edgelord just saying that) (can you tell im gay)

OH WAIT I FORGOT ABOUT MY JEAN JACKET its like baggy and light and ive started sewing patches from my favorite bands on it (super punk right)

Favorite pair of shoes?

^^^

oh my black strappy heels, theyre surprisingly comfortable

Current haircut?

ive got a bleached bob rn

Any haircut goals for the future?

i kinda want a pixie cut bc i cant handle long hair however long hair is so PRETTY and wow

Describe the best date you’ve been on

iiiiiiiiii dont really know. ive been on very few. i have a Perfect Date in mind, and i guess my favorite was my first date with my ex. we had gotten back from a successful science competition (HAVE I MADE IT OBVIOUS IM A NERD YET IM A BIG OL NERD) and it was like midnight by the time we got back and we were both starving so we went to taco bell and just sat there talking and laughing and i know we were pissing off the staff, but we stayed til like two in the morning and we went home and honestly we both considered it a date but we didnt like… tell each other it was a date? if that makes sense? idk honestly im triggered

Describe the worst date you’ve been on

ugh oh god i went on a tinder date and this girl like in the DMs was like ‘hey do u smoke weed’ and im like ‘lol no’ and then like we made plans to meet up at a coffee shop and she asks me AGAIN if i smoke weed and im like……………. no and shes like ‘oh right lol’ well THIS BITCH sleeps through the time we were supposed to meet, completely stands me up, and then texts me back like an hour later and was like ‘omg im sorry i overslept!!!’ and it was like….. noon but ok so we meet up after my class and we just sit there really awkwardly trying to make conversation and she asks me AGAIN if i smoke weed im like ‘honey no i dont’ and we just talked about drugs for a while and when i left because i had to gtfo she like gave me an awkward hug and like i sent a text later that night bc im courteous and im like ‘hey i had a great time today’ (i didnt) ‘lmk if you ever want to meet up again!!’ and she just. ignored me lol.

Single? Taken?

im currently in a polyamorous relationship with myself and my anxiety

If taken, talk about your girlfriend/wife!

:)

If single, what are you looking for in a potential girlfriend/wife?

someone who’s able to make me laugh and deal with my bad ideas and will let me cook for her and wants to travel the world with me

Describe your dream wedding

its small. outside. maybe in a field or in front of a lake. i dont personally want a big ballgown, just a short white dress will do. lavenders everywhere. R A I N B O W  C A K E. reception where we slow dance to all the sappy romance songs. its great.

Do you want kids?

not really, but ive considered being a foster parent. i feel like im here to do good; i don’t want to have my own biological children, and im not sure i want to have the permanent responsibility of adopting a kid, but i feel i could handle fostering once we’re financially stable and have the room to accept children into our home.

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live?

spain, definitely. somewhere in the north. i want to have a small farm with goats and chickens and vegetables and i want to be away from this american mess.

Favorite lesbian movie?

well ysee…………. the only two explicitly lesbian movies ive seen have been ‘all about E’ and ‘blue is the warmest color’ and i didnt like either of the lmfaoooo i prefer watching lesbian television shows tbqh (or, most commonly, just rewriting all the female characters in my head to be sapphic sooooooo dont @ me)

Favorite lesbian novel/story?

i mean same as above, i dont read as much as i like to. however, i did read “georgia peaches and other forbidden fruit” and that was Really Good and i did read another that was slightly better, but i forget the name but it was about a pakistani (?) girl who was struggling to come out to her parents bc they were very traditionalist but she joins the theater and her like really elite school and the girl she had a crush on basically outs her and is a bitch about it and GOD i wish i could remember it because it was really good

Favorite lesbian song?

ummmmmmmmmmmm i just recently listened to ‘honey’ by kehlani and that was pretty good and pretty gay, but my personal favorite is ‘girls’ by beatrice eli bc holy shit what a Mood

Favorite lesbian musician?

i love mary lambert and beatrice eli.

What lesbian stereotypes do you fit into, if any?

ummmmm now that im thinking of them i cant think of any. i used to play softball and soccer? i love cats. i immediately start planning out the next five years of our lives together anytime im remotely interested in a girl?

Ever been assumed to be nothing more than a gal pal?

i mean………………. no

If a woman wanted to woo you, what would a surefire way to accomplish that?

well bake cookies w me and lets go for a walk & go out and watch the stars at night in the bed of a truck

Be positive! What do you like most about being a lesbian?

I LOVE LOVING GIRLS!!!!!! I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT BEING A LESBIAN!!!!!! GIRLS ARE FANTASTIC!!!!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!

Are you more of a cat person or a dog person?

why not both

idk ive never had a cat but i know i lov them

Turn ons?

i.......... dont know

yes

im gay

Turn offs?

long nails youch theyre pretty to look at but i mean at what price

not having anything to talk about

putting yourself down like a lot (i went on a date w this one girl and that was all she did like the entire date like......... im sorry ? :(???)

Do you usually ask other women out or do you wait for them to ask you?

if im being honest i would love for someone to ask me out but since that is Very Unlikely, i tend to be the one to message first and initiate dates and stuff

What is your dream career?

i want to be a psychological researcher in the field of social comparative psychology how sick is that!!!!! just play with dogs all day and record whether or not they boop their noses on a screen

also i wanna be a farmer and a bookstore owner but thats Farther down the line like , when im 50

Talk about your interests or hobbies!

im honestly such a psych nerd i love psychology what the fuck!! its so interesting like ppl are weird man idk brains are weird

im also having a really big green day phase like billie .. he so smol... and also anyone who wants to bash warning or the trilogy can fight me ok those are like My Favorite Albums

im going to a concert in february to see declan mckenna, a Giant Meme

im getting a tattoo w some lyrics of declan’s actually its gonna be sick

What is the most attractive quality a woman can have?

yes

idk for me its being able to have quick, witty, skillful jokes i just love listening to girls talk and tell stories and jokes like wow im gay

also long curly hair? thats always a Solid Look

Do you love easily or does it take time for you to warm up to someone?

i mean. do we really wanna open this can of worms rn

too late, its open

i get those microcrushes where you like see a girl and youre like ‘WOW IM GAY DATE ME’ however once it comes to actually being in a relationship i throw my full weight behind it and worry that im being too suffocating or that im pushing my boundaries etc and ive been told that makes me come off really cold and uncaring so lol choose ur own adventure, you decide

Ever fallen for your best-friend?

unfortunately

Ever fallen for a straight girl?

can you even call yourself a lesbian if you havent

The L-Word: yes or no? (love it or hate it?)

i havent seen it, im such a fake lesbian

Favorite comfort food?

mac n cheese

or pizza

or cheesy potatos

OR CHEESY TOAST

scientific conclusion: im a fatass

Coffee or tea?

coffer

Vegetarian? Vegan? None of the above?

im vegetarian!! have been on and off for like two years now

Do you have any pets?

i have one pup sittin right next to me and shes the prettiest girl in the world

Early-riser or night-owl?

yes

idk i get up at like 9 which is early for me but not as early as like. 5. so

more like night-owl. thanks teenage hormones!

What is your sign?

pisces

Can you drive?

yes

can i drive well?

no

but i do have a sense of direction so thats cool

Who was your first lesbian crush?

tbh.................... my best friend, but i didnt realize it was a crush at the time

the first Gay Crush i had that i knew was a crush was on my close friend at the time, now my ex girlfriend

At what age did you know you were a lesbian?

uhhhhhhhhhh lesbian specifically, like 15-16. queer, i knew in like fall semester freshman year (so like 13??)

At what age did you come out (if you have)?

i mean, i come out to people all the time. first time i came out explicitly as a lesbian was when i was like 15 or 16 (actually i came out to a close straight friend and my ex and they both said ‘congrats’ like it was weird but very nice) and the first time i came out as queer/questioning was to my then-best friend at like 13 and i came out to my mom (involuntarily) at like 17? ish?

Are you crushing on anyone at the moment (celebrity or otherwise)?

yes im crushing on every girl simultaneously at all times

just kidding

(not really)

i dont really have any explicit crushes that i can think of im just really gay

Talk about how your day went

it was fine. got free froyo so that was cool. found out i made an A on my bio practical, so that was cool too. however, i wore a crop top and it was like 55 degrees out and raining so i looked like a total Idiot but yk follow ur slutty gay dreams amiright ladies

Talk about your dreams/aspirations for the future

most of mine are career-centric, but a few are personal.

i wanna go to costa rica in may, i wanna go to yale over the summer, i wanna go to NYC pride in june, i wanna go to spain after i graduate, i wanna go to grad school, i wanna be a psychological researcher, i wanna move to spain or england or hell even france, i wanna have my own farm with the woman i love, i wanna own an LGBT bookstore/library, i wanna just live a quiet life near the sea and not have to worry so much after a while.

Least favorite gay celebrity?

this is a weird one to end on, but iiiiiiim not sure i have one? i can tell you ellen page is probably my favorite, but i cant think of many i dislike so

[changesxnight]

Charles Shepard had hit his breaking point. He had failed three assignments that week, earned detentions for the next two Saturdays and his switchblade was confiscated. Tim hadn't spoken to him in a week and Angela was always at a friend's house. This wasn't abnormal but the second oldest Shepard thrived off attention and validation, even though he rarely got it. He just wanted to be reminded that he mattered.  

His brother and sister were watching something on tv when Curly dragged himself into the house. He didn't mean to, but the door slammed behind him as he walked through the small house. Something in his mind clicked and he was like a loaded gun, just waiting to go off. He threw his backpack on the ground, somewhat near his bedroom door and he went into the kitchen to get something to eat. Food, he thought. Food is good. Carbohydrates always calmed him down so he wouldn't explode on his siblings. They didn't feel things they way he did, if they felt anything at all.

He fumbled to make himself a sandwich, making a mess of mayonnaise and bread crumbs on the kitchen corner. He tried wiping it away with the corner of his black t-shirt but it only smeared more. "Goddamn it!" He shouted as he threw his sandwich into the sink. "Fuck!" He hoped it would relieve some stress but it only made him angrier.

"Curly, what's wrong?" Angela's sweet voice was coming from the other room, concerned and a little scared. She'd seen girls fight and boys nearly kill each other but her brother's episodes always threw her off guard. She didn't know what to do or how to help but she knew she wanted to do something.

"Leave me alone." His words were like venom as he shoved the clean dishes into the cupboards. The bigger the mess, the more chaotic it was in Curly's mind. He couldn't think clearly, as if his brain was burning all the information stored inside.

"Curly," Angela was speaking softly as she tried approaching her brother. "What's going on?"

"I said leave me alone!" He screamed and threw a pan down on the ground.

Dallas Winston and Two-Bit Mathews were walking up to the Shepard porch when they heard some things crash inside. Dallas had pissed off one of the Brumly Boys and needed some help. Even though Dallas deserved the ass kicking, he was going to ask for some back up from Tim and Curly. "Maybe we should come back," Two-Bit cracked a smile. The Shepards were fighting, how usual.

"Nah, I need 'em. Butch will kill me if I don't have any backup." Dallas went ahead and knocked on the door. There was an exasperated snappy comment made by the youngest son as Tim opened the door.

"What do you want?" Tim was frustrated with Curly's outburst and didn't have time for Dally's shit.

"The fuck he's doing here? Is he more important than your own fucking brother?" Curly yelled and Tim turned his head to say something in Albanian. Two just figured he told him to shut up because Curly exploded again.

Dallas changed his mind. "Can I speak to the kid?"

"Why?" Tim gave him a look.

"Just let me talk to him." Dallas and Tim were both tired from the fight the night before, but they were friends and friends help each other out.

Curly walked out onto the porch and Dallas and him started walking. "What do you want?"

Dallas motioned for Two-Bit to ask Tim for help, even in the midst of the chaos. "We're going to Buck's."

"Why?"

"Why why why. What are you, a toddler?" Dallas snapped. They walked in silence along the road, kicking pebbles out of the way. When they got to the old bar, they walked around to the back.

"What are we doing?" Curly asked and Dallas shoved the recycling bin into his hands.

"Carry this."

"Why?"

"Fucking toddler." Dallas muttered but Curly shut his mouth. He followed Dallas down the nearby alley. "Take an empty beer bottle. Chuck it. Get your anger out."

"You're serious?" Curly looked at, skeptical. Dallas nodded. Curly picked up a bottle, studied it as he gripped it tightly in his hand and with all his strength, slung it at the brick wall. "That felt good," he smiled at Dallas.

Dallas smiled back, "Damn right, it did. Throw another." So Curly did. And then he threw another, and another. Dallas joined in on the fun and the two got out all their pent up anger and frustrations on the beer bottles. Glasses littered the ground and the two watched their steps as they left but made no attempt to clean up their mess.

"What was that for?" Curly asked. "Why'd you help me?"

Dallas looked at Curly in the eyes and sighed, hanging his head. He was already being vulnerable by helping Curly with his own coping methods. But how much was too much? "In New York," Dallas couldn't believe he was admitting it, but he couldn't stop himself. "My best friend had a girlfriend who cared for us two like.. I dunno how to describe it. Anyway, she used to come up with different things for me and Rusty-James to help out our anger issues. This was one of them. Real effective, huh?"

"Yeah," Curly nodded. "But..why?"

"I know what it's like to feel so violently in a family where everyone is emotionless." It was all Dallas said while they returned Buck's recycling bin and walked back to the Shepard house. Dallas waved goodbye to his friends and went back to Buck's. He grabbed a beer and a bottle of vodka and slumped down on the couch in front of the tv. He turned it on to his favorite channel and tried drinking the memories away, repressing them far into his mind. The vodka burned his throat but Dallas ignored it; anything to get the pain away.

[rockyrants]

Life is a Cabaret- Chapter 2- So What?

Here’s chapter 2/? of my Cabaret Fanfic!  Read here on Ao3

This chapter was inspired by the second number in the musical “So What?” I recommend that you listen to that before reading this chapter. 

Chapters: 1,  2

Summary: After meeting with Oswald, he finds himself needing some accommodations if he’s going to stay.  Ed didn’t expect the show to last so long. Between drinks and milling around, people dancing the night away sprinkled with different acts, he was not expecting to spend so much time alone in the club. It was fascinating though. Ed couldn’t tear his eyes from the people around them, how they could be so carefree in this little bubble Oswald had created. It was as if the outside world didn’t exist at all.

Butch came out from a curtain that clearly led backstage and walked over to Ed, catching him mid yawn, “Don’t tell me you’re already tired.”



“I’m not,” Ed said firmly, “I just usually don’t stay up this late. That’s all.”

“Sure.” Butch motioned for him to follow, “The boss will see you now.” Ed clumsily gathered his suitcase and followed Butch back behind the stage. 



The world that Oswald had created was certainly something to behold from the audience. But backstage was another matter entirely. People were shuffling around, tying down ropes, rushing costumes back and forth behind the backdrop.



“Out of the way.” A gruff looking man barked out, shoving Ed out of the way as he was carrying a large box. Ed caught the word on the side: explosives. He stared, jaw dropped a little before Butch’s guiding hand turned him toward a staircase. 

The second floor of the cabaret was much like the first, instead of stage hands fumbling about there were musicians packing up their instruments for the end of the night. 



“Do shows always go this late?” Ed asked, looking at his watch. He followed Butch down a small hallway to a door. It was only one in the morning. 



“Late?” Butch looked at his own watch, “Kid this is early for the times we usually run. With New Year’s in a couple days you’ll see what I mean.” He knocked twice on the door, there was no answer. Butch sighed and knocked again. 

But it wasn’t Oswald who came to the door. Instead a bald, frightening looking man with a demented sort of smile answered the door. He kept it mostly closed, only his face peering out.



“I’m sorry can we help you?”



“Boss told me to bring this one up, Zsasz.” Butch jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Ed. Zsasz looked him over.



“You’re new…” Zsasz grinned. Ed immediately wanted to run for some reason. 



“If he’s busy it’s fine, really.” Ed said waving his head, voice tight and a little frightened.



“Is that Nygma?” Oswald’s voice called from inside the office, “Let him in Victor.”

Victor opened the door all the way and stepped to the side, letting Ed and Butch into the room. The office was just as well decorated as the club. Dark woods that all matched and a large window that looked onto the floor of the club. Oswald sat behind the desk, makeup still on as he scribbled something down on paper. He’d thrown some ridiculously fluffy jacket on to keep himself warm in the drafty room. 

He handed the paper to Victor, “Just take care of it, Victor.” He muttered. Zsasz walked over and took the paper from Oswald, reading it over.



“I don’t see why I can’t just put a bullet in his head and be done with it.”



“I didn’t ask you to put a bullet in his head. I asked you, very simply, to deliver a message. If you meet any resistance when it comes to getting in contact, then you can do it your way.” 



Victor tucked the piece of paper away, “Fine.” He grumbled as he walked out of the office, shutting the door behind him. 



Oswald turned his attention to Ed, “Sit.” He gestured to the chair in front of his desk, turning around to file something away. Ed noticed the odd way in which he stood up, but said nothing as he took his seat, “Butch go and clear out the club. Would you?”

Butch gave a mere nod and left the two of them alone. Ed felt the heavy silence fall over the room as Butch’s footsteps echoed away from the door, “You don’t have to look so frightened of being in a room alone with me.” Oswald said, sitting back down at the desk, “Butch said you didn’t particularly mention what you were running from, Edward.”



Ed felt a chill run up his spine when Oswald said his name. 

“No, I didn’t. He could just sort of tell. I don't know how but-” 



“So what are you running from?” Ed remained silent as Oswald looked him over, “You can say it out loud. If you’ve done what I think you have I can assure you that I will not be turning you in. This is Gotham, after all, people have done far worse here.”



Ed took a deep breath, “I… I’ve started killing people.” Ed felt a rush of relief wash over him. He could breathe for the first time in days. He looked back up at Oswald and started giggling, “It feels so good to say that.” 



Oswald nodded, “How many?”



“Pardon?”



“How many people have you killed?”



“Three.” Oswald couldn’t help but scoff a little. An amateur. Ed tilted his head, “Why am I telling you all of this…” He muttered, half to himself. 



Oswald shrugged, “Usually it takes a little bit of… persuasion to get people to talk to me.” He smirked, settling back in his seat, “So what exactly do you need from us?”



“You’re willing to help me just like that?”



Oswald laughed, “Oh god, of course not.” He looked Edward over, “What do you have to offer?”



“Me? I…” He swallowed, “I mean I have.. I have some medical knowledge. I was in forensics for a little while.” He gestured to Oswald’s leg, “For example I know you could probably use a better brace on your knee than whatever sort of bandage you’re using now. It doesn’t show when you dance, but I can see you’re in pain.” 
 Oswald blinked at him and began walking around the table. He let his limp show in full, as it seemed Ed already knew about it. It had been slowly getting worse the more and more he performed, but he never mentioned it. And lord knows that absolutely no one in the show would ever dare to mention it to him. 



“Clever.” He sat on the desk right in front of Ed, "Not sure we really need a medic…” He said slowly, still mulling over the idea.



“I’m also very good at strategy. Planning. If… If you don’t have a need for me in the club maybe I could be useful with other things. Your side work perhaps?” 



“Edward I don’t think-”

“Like dealing with the person who wants to buy your club for instance.” 

Oswald barely had to think about it. He lunged at Ed, a knife pressed against his throat. Edward paled.



“What could you possibly know about that?! Did he send you? He did, didn’t he?” Oswald asked, with a laugh, “Let me make something very clear, I’m not a man who likes to be trifled with, Mr. Nygma.”



Ed gulped, doing his best not to move his head, “What? No! No! I just- you were writing very angrily when I-I came in. I n-noticed you talking to some wealthy looking people on the floor tonight. And you sent one of your more intimidating looking men, assassins, i don’t know what they are honestly, to go talk to this guy. That’s all!” His voice squeaked at the end as a bit of sweat began to bead at the back of his neck. 

Oswald tilted his head again carefully pulling the knife away. Ed let out another breath and waited for an answer. Oswald clicked the knife shut. 



“You’re more clever than I thought.” Oswald’s face broke into a smile as he walked back around to the other side of the desk. He grabbed a piece of paper, “You’ll need a place to stay I assume.”



“I don’t want to impose-”


“You’re not.” Oswald handed over a small slip of paper, “They should be able to give you accommodations there.” He said, gesturing to the address on the slip, “You just tell them that the owner of the Iceberg Lounge sent you and they’ll be more than happy to help.” Oswald settled back in his chair, “Then you can come by tomorrow and we’ll see what you can make of this work. Who knows, I may even through you onto the floor and see how you do with our customers. I can always use an extra set of eyes.”



Ed looked at the paper, “Will they be there this late?”



“I wouldn’t send you there if I didn’t think they would. if you prove useful to me I’ll move you to more comfortable accommodations but, well, you can understand why I don’t trust you as of right now.” Oswald locked eyes with Edward. The taller man found himself just staring back. Oswald raised an eyebrow, “You can go now.” He said with a small nod.



Ed shook himself out of his trance and nodded, “Right. Thank you, Mr.Penguin.” He said with a smile as he looked at the paper. 




The accommodations were small, a bit drafty. It was close enough to the club, but Ed could tell that it wasn’t exactly the best area of town. But it was a mattress beneath him and a roof over his head. A small fridge sat in the corner next to a stove with a burner that didn’t work. Ed’s stomach growled at the lack of food. He knew he should have had something to eat instead of just pounding back drinks. But that was another worry for the next day. 

It was also nice to know that he could just rest that evening without someone coming after him or knowing where he was. He could be safe there. He couldn’t help but laugh to himself. It was the first time in weeks that he hadn’t worried about someone following him. The first time that he hadn’t been constantly looking over his shoulder.



Ed rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. The world outside of the club seemed so different than the oasis that Oswald had created. He had been right when he took the stage at the beginning of the night. In the club everything was beautiful.

The next morning Ed found himself walking down the street towards the grocery store. It was a bit of a trudge and soon he found himself in a neighborhood where he couldn’t read some of the signs. It was a latin alphabet, sure, but not in any language that Ed knew how to speak. He was looking over a pineapple when the sound of a bag tearing caught his attention. 

An older woman with curly blonde hair, hands full of grocery bags, was stooping down to gather up a bunch of groceries that had fallen. 



“Oh my goodness, no, no no…” She muttered quietly to herself. Her accent was thick. Ed rushed to her side and started to help pick up the groceries.



“Here let me.” He said with a smile. The woman lifted her head and gave Edward a tight smile.



“Oh my, such a nice boy.” She said, “I thank you, very, very much. It is these bags. They are not so good any more.” 



“Looks like it.” Ed chuckled. 



“I am so sorry to ask, but would you mind helping me to carry these back? I only live a block or so away.” She asked. Her smile was so wide and welcoming that Ed, despite his best judgement to keep his head low in this town, found himself nodding.

“Sure.” 



“Oh! How wonderful!” She clapped her hands together and regathered her bags, leaving Edward to grab a fresh bag from a nearby vendor and fill it back up. The woman held out her hand, “I am Gertrude.”



“Ed.” Edward shook her hand, “Nygma.”



“Mister Nygma, you are such the gentleman.” she giggled. Ed found himself smiling as he walked with her. 

The apartment building that Gertrude led him to was a small one. Ed figured it didn’t have more than seven or so rooms. He helped Gertrude carry the groceries all the way to her small apartment up on the second floor. 

“Here we are!” Gertrude opened the door to the apartment, letting Ed in first, “Thank you so much. It is hard on my arms to carry so many groceries from the shop.” She said, “But I’m sure not for a strong boy like you.”

Ed took a moment to take in the apartment. There was lace on every table, curtains hanging in almost every doorway. There were water stains on the ceiling, but it was clear that Gertrude had done her best with what she had.



“I wouldn’t know, I haven’t lived around here very long.” He put the groceries down on the table.



“You live around here!” Gertrude said happily, “Where do you live then?” 

Ed found her positivity and openness slightly off-putting.

“Uh.. about two miles south of here. For now. I just moved here. Hopefully I’ll find something else soon.” 



Gertrude turned around, clapping her hands together, “You have no room? But this is no problem!” 

“You-“



“I am the land lady here. The finest residence in all of Gotham. We just had an opening on the third floor. One bedroom.”



Ed found himself speechless, “I can’t afford the finest residence in all of Gotham. I need something… inexpensive. I don’t really have a steady job right now.”



“Oh but this is inexpensive. Very inexpensive” Gertrude said going to a wall in the back of the apartment where a pegboard had keys. She grabbed a set. 



“Well I mean… I don’t- I don’t care if it’s awful as long as it’s cheap.”



“Oh but this is awful.” Gertrude said teasingly, “I am joking. No, no, you will love it, I promise you.” She took Ed by the arm and led him up the stairs.

Each stair creaked under their feet. Gertrude fumbled with the key for a moment before opening the door. 

The room was small, but a bed was already there. It was certainly already warmer than the place that Oswald had put him up in. There was even a dresser and a writing desk, should he need one. 

“You see, Mister Nygma.” Gertrude said with a hand flourish, “All comforts, and I even cook breakfast for our building, only one hundred dollars!”



Ed winced a little bit, “It’s very nice, Miss uh…”



“Miss Kapelput.” Gertrude said with a smile and a small curtsy. 



“Kapelput.” Ed said slowly, sounded an awful lot like Cobblepot, but surely Oswald lived somewhere more grand. Ed shook the thought from his mind, “But you don’t perchance have something cheaper? I can honestly only afford fifty.”



“But for a strong boy like you, smart boy like you. You will find a job and then they will pay you and you will pay me-”

“That’s very kind of you, but if I were to live here I could honestly only afford 50.”


Gertrude frowned just a bit, “This room is worth 100, more than 100.”



“50 is my limit.” Ed said remorsefully, “It’s alright, honestly. You’ve been more than hospitable while I’ve been here I-“



“Fifty?” Gertrude asked. Ed nodded, “Sit.” Gertrude said gesturing towards the desk, “You say 50, I say 100, a difference of 50,” She shrugged, “Why should we let that stand in our way? As long as the room’s to let, the 50 that I will get, is 50 more than I had yesterday, yes?

“When you’re as old as I, as anyone as old as I, what difference does it make? An offer comes, you take!” She shook Edward’s hand, “You know, if I like that you’re here, and I like that you’re here, Happy new year my dear!” She kissed his cheek, “The sun will rise and the moon will set, and we learn how to settle for what we get. It will all go on whether we’re here or not, so who cares?” 

Ed couldn’t help but smile, “Are you sure that fifty will be alright?” He asked.

She waved a hand, “I tell you what we shall do, you come and you help me make lunch, and I will be happy to accept fifty.” She patted his shoulder and handed him the key, “And when you get a job, perhaps you will be able to afford 100, yes?” She laughed. 



Gertrude was humming to herself as she began chopping vegetables for lunch. Ed took his time glancing around the apartment a little bit more.

He noticed a standup piano in one corner, “Do you play?” He asked, gesturing to the piano.

Gertrude tossed her head back with a laugh. 

“Oh no. My little boy plays. So elegant he is. And so talented.”



Ed paused and looked back to Gertrude, “Your son?”



Gertrude grinned, and walked over to a table next to the couch, picking up a photograph. “He is a good boy. Never in my life has he been away for too long. Comes home late, he does. Such a good boy, but he did not come home last night! Off wandering around with some painted slut no doubt!” She huffed. She handed the photograph over to Edward, “You see? So handsome, my son is.” 



“Mother!” Someone called from the front room. Ed’s ears perked up, he knew that voice. Ed looked down at the photo finally seeing a very familiar face, granted he was probably a teenager in the photo. Gertrude broke into a bright smile and wandered into the other room. 



“Oh! My little Cobblepot.” She pinched Oswald’s cheek, “So tired you look. You don’t come home last night! Why you don’t call your mother? I tell you why, you got tangled up in some hussy’s demon purse.”



Oswald waved her hand away, “Mother there was no hussy. Just business. A lot of files to take care of last night and-” Oswald stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Edward Nygma standing in his kitchen. 

Ed took in Oswald as well. The man looked different outside of the club, outside of the illusion. He looked tired, as his mother said, his limp was worse, and his face was clean of the makeup he had worn the night before.



“Mr. Peng-“ He stopped himself when Oswald gave him a death stare, “Oswald. It’s good to see you.”



“You know my Oswald! You two are friends.” Gertrude said with a smile, “Why you don’t bring friends around? This man has no where to go. Sleeping in some drafty house downtown.” She batted Oswald on the arm. He recoiled just a bit, “But not anymore. He will take the room upstairs.”



“What?” Oswald said with a slight tang of venom.



“I don’t have to.” Ed recovered quickly, “Really, Miss Kapelput. You said the room was worth 100 anyway, and I can’t afford that so-” He said, holding his hands up. Gertrude waved her hand.


“Nonsense. Any boy who helps me and is a friend of my Oswald is welcome in this building. How did you two meet?”

Oswald was standing remarkably still, staring Edward down. Ed looked between the two of them. 



“I met him at the Ic-”



Oswald turned to his mother quickly, “Mother, I need to have a word in private with Edward, thank you.” He said, quickly grabbing Ed’s arm and dragging him into the hallway.



Gertrude stood alone in the kitchen, “We are eating soon!” She called out as the door slammed behind Oswald, “Such a nice boy.”

[zenon-stones]

A Boy and His Dog

           One early morning, I believe it was a Saturday, I woke up and knew it was going to be like any other day. Bored with nothing to do, it appeared to be a nice cool morning, and that was a good start. I got dressed and skipped breakfast which was usual, because I really don't like to eat early in the morning. I just wanted to get a good spot on the front porch to take in the cool morning air. Much to my surprise there was an individual already on the porch. It was a short, matted, curly haired dog lying on the porch, against the house. She looked exhausted and hungry.

           My mother stepped out as well and informed me that the dog was pregnant. She looked underweight to be pregnant, but nonetheless, she was. My mother had come out to send me on an errand to the store, so off I went. By the time I came back all the drama had been dealt with and I was left with a decision. Apparently the dog had given birth while I was away and given birth to 5 pups and ran off. All but one died. My mother had disposed of the other four moments before I arrived and she was waiting for the fifth to expire. I of course as any 10 year boy would ask, “Mom, can I keep it?” She sighed and told me that it would not live out the day. I still asked if I could at least keep it until it passed, and little did she know that I was taking this as a personal challenge. I would not let this hours old pup die.

           I fed it using a small rag and milk. At night it slept next to my head after my mom went to bed and I would promptly remove it from its’ shoe box. I would feel it suckle on my earlobe and would get up and feed it again. After school I would rush home, praying to find it still alive and everyday my prayers were answered. He grew to about two foot tall and did not look anything like his mom. He was short haired, slender and handsome as dogs go. He was my best friend, my companion, the keeper of my secrets and my son. He was the only one that saw me cry and would die to protect me.

           I have hundred of stories about life with him, but the next three are the most important. Story number one goes as follows. My dog had another best friend in the dog world, known as Butch. This dog was a massive German Shepherd, but was the follower of the two. My dog was a very dominant alpha male. I had wrestled with him many times to show him how to protect himself, however I left one thing out and he paid the price. I was on my porch hanging with my buddy, when Butch's owner, another kid my age, ran up to me crying that his dog was being killed. As if my dog understood, he bolted in the direction, he had come from. I couldn't keep up with him. By the time I arrived, my buddy was licking Butch as he lay on the ground bleeding. Butch was delirious, and ripped at my dog's throat. God, there was so much blood! The gash went vertically, the entire length of his throat. I was angry and desperate. I snatched him up and ran home. My mother was so calm. She stitched him up and put a cloth baby diaper around his throat in the shape of a bandanna. It was a rough couple of days, but once he was up he looked cool with that hanging from his neck. The neighbors that had witnessed the incident, informed me that there were three dogs attacking Butch and that my dog had torn them apart and ran them off. My buddy was brave, fearless and protective. I couldn't be prouder, or so I thought.

           Story number two. That same boy, who owned Butch, had a father that was an abusive drunk. We all avoided him as best we could and he was hated by everyone, especially his own family. Not sure what he did, but the youngest of three daughters ended up in a mental institution, for a bit. One fateful night, he ended up on our porch. My buddy was an outside dog, much to my dismay, but worked out this time. When my mother answered the door, that drunk tried to attack my mother. Well he was quickly dealt with, and my best friend became an inside dog. Life couldn't get any better. My mother finally got to really see his true nature and how much love he was capable of and she felt safe.

           Story three. I was now thirteen and was what I considered the worst year of my life. Many things happened that year, one being that my mother was diagnosed with cancer. She survived it, but that is another story. I came home from school that day and noticed a trail in the dirt as if something had drug itself or had been drug up to my house. My heart dropped as I saw him lying on the ground gasping for every breath. Everyone was gathered around him, waiting for my arrival. They knew nothing could be done. He tried to get home so we could fix him. It looked as if his neck was broken, which made it even more miraculous. I knew his time was over. I lifted him and laid him on the truck of my uncle's car. I held onto him until his last breath, as he looked up me and opened his mouth, as if to say something to me. My world as I knew it came to an end and I was no longer a child. A neighbor told me that the drunk, mentioned earlier, had purposely driven across the road and into my yard to hit my friend. I wanted to kill. As I headed to his house, my mother stopped me and said, to let it go. It would come around, and I had to just let the universe deal with him. I never knew I could hate so much. I did as she said. Ten years later, that same drunk, was walking across the road and got hit by a car. None of his family visited him in the hospital. He died alone and I was told, that no amount of medication could ease the pain.

           I didn't know how to feel. I wished this and so many other scenarios upon him. But to die alone like that. Even my friend was surrounded by several people as I watched him die, and everyone felt my pain. I still don't know how to feel.