#i tried drawing the backgrounds myself but settled with pictures i took instead because i suck at drawing backgrounds | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

percywinchester27 · 4 years

Text

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-10)

Word count: 5.2K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Implied smut, fluff :)

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: No angst again! And good stuff. I am being very nice these days ;)

The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23. Athina, you’re a goddess <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

10th September 2008

You woke up to something soft tickling your face, almost feather light and pleasant. Opening your eyes, you found Sam’s arms wrapped around you, nestling you in them. A glowing warmth spread through your body as you remembered last night, his lips on your skin, and the feel of his hot breath on your face. The way he had called out for you was enough to raise goosebumps on your skin now. And he’d said he loved you. Your heart thrummed in your chest at the memory.

Slowly, you removed his arm from over your body and slipped out of bed. You wanted to kiss him on his forehead or the point of his nose but Sam looked so peaceful you didn’t have the heart to wake him up.

You pulled over the T-shirt and the boxers Sam had lent you last night and headed down to the kitchen. Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to skip dinner after a morning of hangover because your stomach was churning weirdly.

Would everything be different now? After last night. You felt like your heart would burst from all the love you were feeling. Without giving the task at hand much thought, you fried some eggs, toasted the bread and put the coffee pot on a boil, wondering what Sam had for breakfast.

With an excitement that you had never felt before, you carried the tray laden with food upstairs, wondering how to wake Sam up. As it turned out, Sam was already sitting up, a confused expression on his face. The sheets were bunched around his waist and the sight of his naked torso made your face feel hot. When he saw you, his eyes lit up, a smile replacing the frown.

“Here you go,” you said, placing the tray before him and then joining him on the bed.

His eyes softened. “You didn’t need to,” he said, gesturing towards the food. “Not seeing you here, I was starting to worry that last night had been a dream.”

“Only the best dream of my life,” you muttered, pouring his coffee. “Black with half spoon sugar. Just like you have it.”

Sam was still stuck on your words. He took the cup from your hands and placed it back on the tray, then pulled you to him. “That’s just it. I didn’t want it to be a dream. Even if it was the best dream ever. All dreams, even the best ones end when you wake up. But with you… I don’t ever want this to end.”

You reached out and kissed him. At first he was surprised, then he leaned into it. Kissing Sam was like a breath of fresh air for your soul. If it was left to you, you would spend an obscene amount of time kissing him.

“This is one way to start the day,” he chuckled.

“Mhmmm…” you sighed, handing him the coffee and starting on the eggs.

“Funny that Jo didn’t turn the place upside down looking for me,” you wondered idly. You should have told her where you were last night.

“I called her when you got here,” Sam said. “When er… when you were having a bath.”

Sam was always so thoughtful. Last night it hadn’t even occurred to you to let Jo know, about the acceptance or the fact that you were here, and you weren’t particularly proud of it. Absentmindedly, you scooted closer to Sam and like it was the most natural thing to do, he put his arm around you. The heat coming of his skin and his scent was so comforting, you all but melted against his side. A girl could get used to this.

“Hey,” Sam nudged you with his lips pressed in your hair. “You know that NC Central is only a seven hour drive from New York, right?”

Of course you knew that. It was a great school, but it was also on the East coast, where Sam would be. You nodded against his neck, lightly tracing the hard lines of his stomach.

“I could drive over the weekends to see you.” There was hope in his voice.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you smiled at the thought of it all. A new school, a new life with Sam in it. You thought of happy weekends and flinging yourself into his arms whenever you saw him. You pictured his wide smiles, and the joy in his eyes when he saw you. “I could hop on a bus on Friday night and be there in New York in the morning. You’d show me around, wouldn’t you? I’ve never been to such a big city.”

“You have no idea,” he said. “I’ve never wanted that job more than now. Hell, I’d throw myself into preparing for the bar, if it keeps us that close now.”

“Mhmm.” You huddled closer to him.

“What’re you thinking?”

“About how I’m going to afford this,” you said. “NC central isn’t that expensive, but it’s still a lot considering I have almost nothing to my name. I don’t want to sell off Gran’s house.”

“You want to make it into a bakery, I remember,” he said, gently, then added hesitantly. “Maybe I could-”

“No!” You sat up straight. “Absolutely not. I can’t ask this from you.” You hurried to explain, seeing the slightly hurt expression on his face. “This isn’t about you in any way. It’s very kind of you to offer, it really is. But I want to do this by myself. I’ll apply for a student’s loan. Like I said, the money isn’t an impossible sum. I just need a guarantor to vouch for me at the bank. I don’t want to ask aunt El cause I know she had some bank problems with the diner. She doesn’t trust them very much.”

Sam looked thoughtful.

“What’re you thinking?” You asked suspiciously. “Don’t think about volunteering.”

His finger was drawing a pattern on your shoulder as he licked his lips. “You know I can’t. I don’t own any property myself. You should ask Dean, though.”

“Dean?” You looked up at him surprised. “Why would he?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Sam countered. “He might not show it, but he does like you. You’re not asking him to pay for your college, you’re just asking him to be a guarantor. He has great credit, the bank won’t refuse that. It’s not like you’re going to dupe him. I know my brother. Trust me, he’ll be happy to help you.”

When you still looked surprised, Sam took hold of your hand and pressed it to his lips. “Don’t overthink this. You said you wanted to do this by yourself, so you bring it up with him. I promise I won’t say a word.”

“You’re awesome. You know that, right?”

He winked. “I don’t know about that. But I’m sure happy you think that!”

You removed the tray from the bed and placed it on the side table, then moved over to straddle Sam, hands placed on either side of his face. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

In a quick moment, Sam flipped you, so that you were lying on the bed with him hovering over you. He dipped down to kiss the hollow of your neck, then whisper against your skin. “The pleasure is all mine.”

***************************************

“You know, if you keep bouncing on the balls of your feet like that,” Meg said drowsily from the table, where she sat flipping through a magazine, “I’m going to side with Kevin on this. You’re hiding something.”

You put your lunch in the bag, wondering just how to tell her. It wasn’t that you wanted to hide your history from your roommate. There was just so much of it, you had no idea where to start. For now, you just settled for, “There’s this professor. I thought he was mad at me. Turns out he isn’t.”

“Wow. It doesn’t take much to get you all chirpy.”

Just the feeling of six years worth of hell coming to an end.

“Ready to go?” You asked and Meg jumped down from the high stool.

“Yep.”

“Is this the same good looking professor?” She asked out the blue as you reached the campus gates.

“How do you know about the good looking professor?” You narrowed your eyes. You had mentioned Sam only to one person in the apartment.

Meg looked taken aback for a second, then said nonchalantly. “Cas told me.”

“You two are really close, aren’t you?” Try as you may, you couldn’t keep the sly tone out of your voice completely.

Meg changed the topic smoothly, but not before you saw the faint blush on her cheeks.

Meg blushing? Speak of novelty.

She waved you a goodbye at the entrance of the law building, heading north to the Physics department. Wondering if anyone else in the apartment had noticed, you entered the class for your first lecture.

Professor Mills was in a great mood today, and she encouraged a debate on whether Legal writing and its syntax should affect how seriously the core content of any litigation is treated. You firmly believed that poor syntax should in no way undermine the severity of any litigation, and made your points with citation. The opposite team consisting of Brad and everyone in Madison’s group tried to put up a strong fight, but you knew you had the moral high ground on that one. Maddy was smiling by the end of it, but the expression on the other’s faces ranged from disappointment to disgust.

Professor Mills mentioned you by your name at the end of the class, lauding you for your points. It was enough to give you the high of the day. You simply loved her.

As the college day neared its end, you were excited for Civil Procedures, excited to see Sam again. Maybe he wouldn’t ignore you now. Maybe he’d actually look at you and smile. Your eyes were eagerly glued to the door, waiting for him while everyone chattered in the background.

It wasn’t Sam who came in. Instead, the TA Paul announced that the lecture has been cancelled for today and tomorrow. Professor Winchester would take double lectures in the following week to cover it up.

“Well, dang it!” Meredith cursed. “After that horrible debate, I was looking forward to seeing that chiseled face.”

“You aren’t the only one who’s disappointed,” Lacey said slyly. “Y/N looks like someone kicked her puppy.”

You schooled your expressions immediately.

Madison rolled her eyes. “Everyone was looking forward to it. Maybe he has something important. Remember he ditched Thursday, Friday on our first week, too.”

“Maybe he’s just playing hooky with his girlfriend,” Rebecca shrugged. You had a maddening urge to slap her. It wasn’t fair to direct all your anger at her; you knew that. However, listening to her words, evaporated the high you had been feeling completely.

How naive of you to think that one small conversation could make everything okay. Maybe he went back home and changed his mind, had seen that the exchange was a lapse in his judgement. Your stomach dropped at that thought. Why did he have to show you a moment of softness, if he was just going to take it all away? It would have been better then, had he continued to ignore your existence. You had been making your peace with it. You didn’t think you had it in you to take one more hit after feeling hope, at last.

Morosely, you started picking up your things.

“Y/N. Don’t forget about the party, tomorrow.”

Madison was looking at you with wide eyes.

You opened your mouth to make up a reason. She cut you off-

“Look, I checked your schedule. You’re not working this weekend. This is your last working day for the week. I’ve made all the reservations and counted you in.”

“Maddie-”

Her brow furrowed. “You’re not going to stand me up, are you? The drinks are on me.”

Looking at her, you just couldn't say no.

“I was gonna say that I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

“Yay!” She shot out of her chair and flung her arms around you. Surprised, you put your hand against her back.

“Told you she’d come,” Madison told her friends. Lacey gave you a smile, Meredith looked disinterested and Rebecca had her back turned to you completely. That summed it up accurately. For the umpteeth time you wondered how their group functioned at all.

Brad, who had been lingering at the table with his guy friends, gave you a smirk.

“Miss Y/L/N finally gracing us with her presence?”

“Oh, butt out, Brad,” Madison shoved him. “If you keep acting like a dick, she might change her mind.”

“Now we wouldn’t want that, would we,” he said under his breath.

You didn’t want any more of their company than what was absolutely required, so you said your goodbye to Madison and left the lecture hall for the day. With your sulky attitude, returning to the apartment wasn’t an option in case you ran into someone. Those guys were very perceptive and you didn’t want to lie to them anymore.

After wandering aimlessly underneath the pergolas of the Quadrangle, you headed to the library. It was about two in the afternoon; four more hours and it would be your shift anyway.

You decided to have your lunch in the closed quarters of the librarian’s room. There wasn’t much to the room except a makeshift bed, a table, chair and a coffee machine. You could sit there and catch up with the essays after lunch.

The on shift librarian wasn’t Molly today, but this other odd hours guy. She was hovering over him, giving instructions. When she saw you, she ushered you to the side. “It’s his first time. I’m training him for the weekend.”

“Oh.” You looked over at the guy. He was clearly an anxious wreck. You felt bad for him.

“Hey listen,” you said, “Is it okay if I use the librarian’s room? I haven’t had lunch and I don’t want to go to the eateries or the mess.”

She gave you a guilty look. “The room is kinda sorta… ocupado.”

“What?”

“See for yourself.” She took hold of your hand and pulled you towards the room in question.

The door was almost closed, save for a small slit. Through it, you could see Sam sitting on the table, multiple books and files scattered around him. He was absolutely absorbed in whatever he was doing, forehead lined in concentration.

“What the-”

Molly shushed you. “Look, I know this looks weird, but he’s in the middle of something. They convicted one of his key clients, and he said he needed some place quiet to figure this out.”

“What about his firm?” You asked the obvious question.

“Client’s not from SF. He’s from LA. Heading to Acton Gris would be going in the opposite direction.”

“Then what about his office here?” You were so surprised that the questions just flowed out of your mouth.

Molly gave an exasperated sigh. “Students. They keep knocking on the door.” She gave you a desperate look. “Please Y/N, let him be. He’s really worked up about it.”

“Yeah, of course,” you assured her.

She looked grateful. “This isn’t conventional, but he’s one of the good folks around here. I knew him from the alumni fraternity before he started teaching here. In fact, he recommended me for my internship at the LA firm he was working in then.”

That explained why she called him by his first name. She was preaching to the choir about how good Sam was though.

“That’s all fine,” you said. “Just let me know if there’s any way I can help.”

“Molly?”

Both of you jumped at the sound of his voice.

“Molly?” He asked again. “Is that you?”

She pushed the door open.

“Yeah it’s me.” She looked at you. “And this is Y/N. You remember her from the other day, don’t you?”

He smiled at you. It was a tired smile, but it held the mischief of a secret only the two of you knew.

“I remember her,” he said dryly.

All the distress and world ending angst you had been feeling since the class vanished into thin air.

“I-I didn’t mean to disturb you,” you said quickly. “I just came in to check if I could have lunch here. Clearly you are busy working, so I’m just going to go now.”

“You’re not disturbing,” he said firmly. “I’ll clear the table. You can have lunch here.”

“No- no,” you backed off. “Seriously. I can go to the mess.”

“Y/N.” He looked beyond exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept in a while. Even his words were heavy. “C’mon, in. At least sit on the bed.”

Molly poked you in the back from behind and you stumbled inside.

The room was a mess. There were papers everywhere. Sam was one of the most organised people you knew. If there was that much mess around him, either he had changed drastically in the years or this was really a disaster situation.

“Tell me if I can help you with anything.” The words were out before you could even think them through.

He rubbed his hand across his face. “I can’t possibly ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking me. I’m offering.”

You didn’t know if this fell in line with proper etiquette of how one should converse with a professor, but this was Sam, and he looked ready to drop. To hell with etiquette. You were going to do whatever you could to help.

Behind you, Molly had disappeared back into the library.

He paused, considering your words, then sighed. “Even if you wanted to, this is too much to explain.”

You flung your bag on the bed and rolled up the sleeves of your sweater. “I’ve worked as a paralegal for an asshole boss. I think I can keep up.”

Sam gave you a look that was halfway between impressed and surprised.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered under his breath, so softly that you almost missed it. “Alright, here’s the details of the case-”

You listened attentively as he quickly briefed you about this teenage boy, James Feller, who had been arrested for grand auto theft about four years back. The boy testified against the gang, cut a deal with the DA and walked. Now he had been arrested again, and after being let out, jumped the bail. Sam had until tomorrow to fix it or this kid was spending a long, long time in jail. Sam was sure that James hadn’t done it. He had some grabs from CCTV footage to prove his alibi. It only needed to be put together. He might be completely innocent when it came to the theft, but there was still the bail issue to take care of.

“Right, I’ll go through the log to see if there’s anything similar where an underage defendant jumped bail and got out of prison under the jurisdiction of LA,” you said.

“That’s exactly what I was going to suggest,” he said, astonished again.

You shrugged and pulled out your laptop, signing into the library’s archival server with your password. There were a couple of cases that could be cited in context to Sam’s case. You pulled out the soft copies of the litigations and highlighted the relevant extracts.

“You guys need anything?” Molly was standing at the door. She had her bag on her shoulder. You looked at the clock. It was already six, time for your shift to begin. Where had the time gone?

“We’re good,” Sam said.

“Seriously? You guys don’t need anything? Not even coffee?” She came to stand by the coffee machine. “I’m making a cup for myself anyway.”

You gave in. “I’d like a cup. Thanks, Molly.”

“One for me, too,” Sam caved, too.

“You guys look intense working like that,” she said, filling the pot with water. “Are you making any headway?”

“Y/N found some useful citations.” Sam closed the heavy book before him and leaned back in his chair, rolling the sleeves of his white shirt. The coat had been hung over the back of his chair since long before. You tried not to look at him too much.

“Good on you, Y/N!” Molly said, pulling on three mugs. “How do you have your coffee?”

“Little milk and one spoon sugar,” you said politely.

“Sam?”

There was no response. You looked to see that he was busy with his phone, having not heard a single word of it.

“Let it be,” you suggested, seeing as Molly was shuffling the strap of her bag. “You go on. I’ll manage the coffee.”

“You’re a lovely person!” She noted with just a hint of surprise, then blew you a kiss. “See you later, Chica bonita.”

You poured coffee for him, black with half spoon of sugar, stirred it and carefully handed it to him. He took it gratefully, holding out two fingers as he talked over the phone.

You grabbed your mug and went back to your laptop. It appeared that Sam was talking to a colleague explaining the things he needed to get ready. He took a sip of the coffee and stopped mid sentence, looking at you over his screen in wonderment.

“Chase, I’ll call you back in a minute.”

You had gathered your stuff in one hand.

“Y/N?” Sam interrupted you, voice oddly tender. “You remembered.”

He was holding his mug out. The warm vapours were slightly fogging his glasses.

“Of course I remember.”

There was no way you would forget.

He saw your things wrapped in your hand and the bag slung over your shoulder.

“You’re leaving?” Disappointment clear in his tone.

You shook your head. “I’m just going outside at the desk. It’s my shift now. I’ll continue tagging relevant extracts and have three sets of printouts ready for you. You’ll let me know if you need more time? I can keep the library running all night.”

“You’re the power wielding person here, aren’t you?”

“Sure am,” you grinned. “I’ll leave you it.”

Once outside, you took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Being around Sam made you conscious of every little thing… enough to drive you crazy. Maybe it was a good thing that you were going to the party tomorrow. You needed a drink. That thought inadvertently reminded you of Jo- the only sister you’d ever had. If she were here, she would have told you to go for it despite knowing how insane drunk Y/N was and wreck you would be the next day. The memory of her also made you sad, the missing was gut wrenching sometimes. You almost turned on your heel and headed by inside to ask Sam about Jo and about Dean. Were they still together? Did the diner ever get out of the bumpy patch? How was aunt El doing?

Did they hate you for leaving like that?

That thought brought you up short. You didn’t want to know the answer to that question. There was a small hope within you. If Sam of all people could find it in himself to be civil with you, maybe they would, too. Broaching the topic now would be disastrous. It wouldn’t help Sam right now to lose concentration. Hell, he might do a 180 and suddenly remember that he didn’t like you.

You got back to your desk, filing the cards out for the day before getting to Sam’s paperwork. Though it was a manual job, you did it with utmost concentration, knowing how chaotic courtrooms got and how crucial it was to find the right evidence at the right time. Alongside, you carefully read the suit and arranged the stacks according to the order in which they were needed.

“You know, if you kept going at it like that, you’ll have to represent the boy tomorrow.”

You looked up and your breath hitched. Sam stood before you, his shirt partially untucked and sleeves rolled all the way up till his elbows. The tie was gone and the top button of his shirt was undone. There was a glint of silver against his neck, a thin chain. You wondered where it had come from absently. Without the glasses, and his hair slightly dishevelled, you could see some of the guy you had first fallen in love with.

You looked away quickly, blinking several times, then pushed the stack of printouts towards him. All three copies, arranged as per the appearances of the evidence in the suit papers. The affidavits are all the bottom, along with the supplementary copies.

“You should come down to the office and train my assistant,” he said, leaning over the table so that his elbow rested on top. “He can’t find one paper on time.”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh.

“Aren’t you having dinner?” He asked, tucking his hair behind his ear. He was nervous.

“I’m not hungry.” Your stomach was already so full of butterflies, you didn’t think any food could go in.

“I’m already feeling terrible that you’re helping me with this… please don’t skip dinner for it.” There was something about his voice that affected your soul. The sound of his words were different from everyone elses. All words felt kinder, lovelier when he said them.

“Why are you fighting for this kid?” The words slipped past you before you could stop them. You had been wondering this all evening. “I saw the papers. You’re doing this pro bono and not for Acton Gris. This is your own case.”

He didn’t reply immediately and his face had a far away look. When he finally spoke, it was in a reminiscing tone. “I met James when he was a foster kid a few years ago. He got pushed into the racket because of bad influence. When I saw him at the retention centre, he broke down completely. They were blackmailing him by threatening to hurt his little sister. When he first got off, he looked at me like I was some kind of miracle.” Sam’s face had an awed look, as if he couldn’t comprehend how anyone could think that of him.

“I knew he wouldn’t get into this again. He’s in college now and has basically turned his life around. We have enough evidence to pin a gang member down for framing him. I don’t want anyone at Acton Gris to help me on this because this is my own case. Putting some poor junior on it is just abusing my power.”

He was a good man. That in itself didn’t surprise you because you had always known it. What surprised you was that he had remained one. Sam used to be starry eyed with ambitions and full of a thirst to do the right thing. He had been so idealistic. It worried you that one day he would wake up and see that the world was an even worse place than what he thought it to be. You worried that the ruthless profession might kill some of the inherent goodness in him. After having lost just as much as you, he hadn’t lost faith in the world. He had remained good.

“What?” He questioned and you realised you were staring.

“There you are!”

Jody Mills stood behind Sam, a harried expression on her face. He straightened up immediately and it occurred to you how close your faces had been.

“I went to your house, called up your PA, and here you are.”

“Jody?” He clearly hadn’t expected her.

She handed him the bag she was carrying. “I have dinner for you. I knew you would bury yourself in the case and wouldn’t cook since you’re by yourself now.”

Now. What did that mean? Lacey’s remark about Sam living in family quarters and having a girlfriend came to your mind. You dismissed it quickly.

“Didn’t see you there, Y/N,” Professor Mills came around. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Actually I just started a week ago.”

Her eyes flitted to the stack in front of you. “And what’s this?”

“Y/N’s been helping me with some printing,” Sam said.

Professor Mills gave him a once over. “Sam Winchester making students work?”

“It’s not like that,” you defended quickly. “I offered to help S- Mr. Winchester. I have some experience as a paralegal and this was only a matter of making copies.”

“You did a lot more than that,” Sam corrected smoothly.

“I was only joking.” she placed a hand on Sam’s arm and you noted that they were probably closer than just colleagues. Friends even. “You, on the other hand, keep surprising me, Y/N. This looks like solid work.”

You blushed at the compliment, mumbling a small ‘thank you.’ Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Sam gazed down at you oddly. If you didn’t know any better, you might have misinterpreted it as a hint of pride.

“You have your food!” Jody ordered him and waved at you. “See you in class tomorrow, Y/N.”

“Good night,” you wished her.

Before leaving, she glanced from you to Sam and back again, a peculiar look in her eyes, shook her head and left.

She had packed a burger and pack of oily fries for Sam. You saw his brow furrow at the sight of it and smiled to yourself. Some things never changed.

Sam insisted that you have your dinner, too. However, you made sure that while he sat inside, you had your dinner at your desk. There was only so much of his nearness you could take without having your feelings run wild. Sam needed to go through the case files in peace for the court tomorrow. You let him be, only visiting the librarian’s room once to let him know that you wouldn’t shut the library at all. He was grateful for it. After everyone else had left, you wrapped the shawl around your shoulders and put your head down against the wooden desk. Closing your tired eyes just for a second, you let yourself reflect on everything that had happened today and how one day could be more impactful than a month of one's life sometimes.

You woke up several hours later. Grey light was starting to filter from the high windows. It was early dawn.

Hurriedly you got up to check on Sam, but the librarian’s room was closed from the outside, you checked in the seating area, too. There was no one there; you were by yourself in the room.

Back to your desk, you noticed a folded piece of paper placed under your paperweight.

It said-

Y/N,

I have to start from here now to make it to LA in time for the hearing. Didn’t have the heart to wake you up. I can’t thank you enough for your invaluable help.

Regards,

Sam.

You clutched the paper tightly in your fingers, crumpling it in the process. Sometimes a few words were louder than a speech. Sometimes the gesture was even louder.

***************************************

A/N 2: You guys! THEY TALKED! I know a lot of you have been like ‘They just need to talk’ and well, it happened. So what do you think? Uphill?

ALL MY LOVE to everyone who commented and reblogged. You guys keep me posting! <3

PLEASE let me know what you think of this story?

If you want be tagged, you can send me an ask or add yourself to the taglist here.

Or here’s my side blog @percywinchester27-writes. You can give that blog a follow and turn the notifications on to know about updates.

ALLU taglist:

@feelmyroarrrr @gabavaldman @im-a-light-child @cosicas-cuquis @bllyjianne @hoboal87 @i-is-for-inspiring @daughterleftbehind @wackiekebab @mylovelydame21 @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba @superbadassnatural @bellastellaluna @babypink224221 @badlittlehabit99 @anathewierdo @sams-bubblegum-bitch @damn-it-now-im-obsessed @fandomoverdose666 @superstarmarvel @atc74 @aiofheavenandhell @rebel-author-chick @death-unbecomes-you @cookiechipdough @kbl1313 @linki-locks11 @miss-nerd95 @sunflowers-n-rocknroll

#sam winchester x reader fluff #sam winchester reader insert #sam winchester x reader #lawyer!Sam #professor!Sam #reader x sam #sam winchester AU #allu10 #Ana writes ALLU #anawrites #anawritesspn #q

108 notes · View notes

tibbinswrites · 5 years

Text

Suptober Day 25 - Tattoos

“I want a tattoo,” Cas said one morning, completely out of the blue and while Dean was still dangerously in his first sips of his first coffee.

“You’ve got tattoos.” Dean bit back grumpily, though Cas knew better than to take his ire seriously before ten am.

“Yes. I want another one.”

“Okay...” Dean drew out the word like he was waiting for Cas’ point.

“Can I?”

Dean snorted and placed his mug down on the table, “I’m not your mother, Cas. You’re a grown ass practically immortal being. If you want a tattoo you don’t need my permission.”

“I know, but… would you help me? I don’t want to end up disappointed and I don’t know how to tell if a parlour is a good one or not.”

Dean squinted at him through the steam from his coffee, considering.

“Sure,” he said. Go grab my laptop, we can have a look around.”

Xxx

Dean was almost done with his mug and a lot more cheerful when Cas returned a few minutes later, he took the laptop and flipped it open, searching for nearby tattoo parlours and going onto their various websites.

“I don’t suppose sanitation really matters to you,” Dean said, flipping through some pictures of a studio before dismissing it. “Seeing as you can’t get infected and all, but it says a lot about how much a place cares about the art it makes. If you can stumble in there at three am and demand Bob Ross’ face on your ass then you’re not in the right place.”

“Why would anyone-?”

“People.” Dean answered with a shrug. “Those are the kind of places we went to get these,” he gestured at his chest, “but these are practical, they just had to be copied from a drawing we supplied, if you want an actual design, you need to find an actual artist, not just someone with a tattoo gun who can draw hearts and fancy swirls and a passable wolf.”

Cas wrinkled his nose at the thought. He did want a proper design, something beautiful, something meaningful, something his. But the task seemed monumental for him let alone a stranger.

“Here are the ones that look decent.” Dean said a few minutes later, showing Cas a set of six tabs. “What do you want to get anyway?”

“I don’t know.” Cas said, feeling touched that Dean was walking him through this but overwhelmed as he clicked on the first tab and a slew on images popped up. “How am I supposed to choose?”

Surprisingly, instead of mocking him, Dean smiled and shuffled his chair closer so he could see the screen too.

“Look through the artist portfolios,” he directed, pointing to the option at the top of the screen. “Most will have links to their own websites with more of their work. You’re not looking for the perfect design, just the perfect style. Some are better at portraits, others at more geometric stuff, some do different things with colour. You can narrow it down by crossing out the ones you don’t like.”

Cas nodded solemnly and turned his attention back to the screen. The first artist had lots of strong black lines and straight edges. The second a lot of portraits, neither of which really appealed to him.

He seemed to search for hours. Dean was refilling his coffee when Cas found what he was looking for.

“This one.” Cas said, looking up to see Dean jump at his voice. “I want her.” He tried to keep his tone neutral but from the slight crinkle at the edge of Dean’s eyes he hadn’t been able to hide the excitement in his voice.

“Alright, let’s take a look.” Dean said, leaving his mug at the machine and coming over to look at the screen over Cas’ shoulder. “Nice,” he agreed.

Castiel felt a warm buzzing in his stomach, he was glad that Dean liked it too. The image on the screen was a rose, not what Cas was looking for really, delicately done, with a fine outline, but it was the colours that were magical; midnight blue and deep, rich purples blended in the petals, with a shimmer that looked almost metallic, smudging across the lines slightly, not enough to ruin the image but just enough to be imperfect, to feel right.

Castiel booked a consultation for the following week.

Xxx

Cas sat in the waiting room of the tattoo parlour, tapping his foot nervously while Dean sat next to him. Dean had insisted on coming with him and Castiel hadn’t thought to object, the last time he’d gotten a tattoo he’d been alone, and although the pain was minimal compared to some of the torments he’d endured as an angel, experiencing it as human pain was different and he had wished for company, even if Dean only would have mocked him and compared him to an infant.

“What if it turns out bad?” He asked quietly, “I still have no idea what I want, what if I can’t think of anything? What if she doesn’t have the right colours, or-”

“Cas,” Dean interrupted patiently, “it’s just a consultation, no needle is getting near your skin without your say so. If she draws you something and you don’t like it, she’ll change it for you. If she doesn’t have the colours she’ll order them in and we can go back when she’s got ’em. If you don’t have any ideas we can talk it out. It’s gonna be fine”

Cas was grateful for the reassurance, but he was still nervous nonetheless. He just didn’t want to be disappointed. This felt important and he didn’t want to mess it up by choosing the wrong thing. The artist, Giva Chaudhary, was exceptionally talented, but none of the images in her portfolio had really spoken to him. He was worried that they would get there and she would be unable to produce the thing he wanted on his skin forever and he would either have to go home with nothing, or settle for something that was less than perfect.

“Mr Novak?”

Miss Chaudhary was a small woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties, her black hair was bound in a long plait and she had a smile that seemed almost too large for her face.

“Yes.” Castiel said, standing to shake her hand. “Miss Chaudhary, you work is beautiful.”

“Well thank you, but don’t bother with the ‘miss’, Giva is fine.”

“Cas,” Cas offered, and then, because Dean was leaning to shake her hand too. “This is Dean, a friend.”

“Moral support?” Giva asked, her dark eyes twinkling, “Understandable, a first tattoo can be a scary business.”

“It’s not his first,” Dean said immediately, “but this one’s important, he wants it to be right.”

Giva nodded and gestured them to sit, she did as well, laying a sketchbook and some pencils on the table in between them.

“So, Cas, do you know what you’d like?”

Cas felt himself flushing and stammered out an apology which Giva waved away, “Not a problem, that’s what these talks are for, yes? If we don’t figure it out today you can always come back another time. So what drew you to my work in particular?”

So Cas told her, he answered her questions and looked through her books. She made some further sketches as he talked, of nothing in particular, nothing important, and so her sketches, while lovely, were nothing like what he was looking for. Dean was quiet throughout, Cas kept glancing at him to gauge his reaction to each piece but he remained stubbornly neutral. This only added to his confusion, how was he supposed to decide if he didn’t know if Dean would like it or not?

“I wonder if I might ask your friend to go and get us some sandwiches from across the street.” Giva said after thirty minutes of light conversation and not much progress.

Dean was reluctant, but agreed when Cas nodded to him and left with a significant ‘call me if you need me’ look.

The second the door closed, Giva let out a long sigh. “Perhaps you can speak more easily now,” she said. “I notice you very much want his approval.”

“I trust his judgement,” Cas said, carefully.

“I don’t doubt his judgement, only that in this case, his opinion matters less than yours. He will approve the most if you’re happy.” Giva said with a kind smile, as though she saw this kind of thing all the time.

“You care for him deeply,” she said

“I-” there was no sense in denying it. “Yes. Dean and I… we’ve been through a lot.”

“Tell me,” Giva said, sitting back in her chair, sketchbook at the ready.

Cas cleared his throat.

“Err… Well… I suppose you could say I come from a very strict background,” he began, picking his words carefully. “When I first met Dean, more than a decade ago now, I pulled him from a dark place; it was a duty for me at the time, to keep an eye on him, look out for him and his brother, to try and keep them on the righteous path. Dean… Dean disliked being led.” He felt a small smile tugging at his lips. “I found myself admiring that, helping him more that I was supposed to and as I grew closer to Dean, I began to see my family for what they truly were. They tried to get me back, keep be under their control but I fought for my freedom because Dean showed me how.”

“Freedom is an important thing.” Giva said encouragingly as she sketched, “Worth fighting for. But it can be difficult if family disagrees with your choices.”

“I made many mistakes that I can never redeem.” Cas said, “A lot of bad decisions that got people hurt. Dean forgave me even when he had every right not to, while my family betrayed me, cast me out, hunted me.”

“A fall from grace, sounds like.” Giva muttered, Cas looked up sharply but the petite woman wasn’t even looking at him, she was focused on her sketch.

“That would be… incredibly accurate.”

“So why the tattoo now?” Giva asked, her pencil stilling for a moment, “This is your first important one, but you waited ten years?”

Cas tilted his head, formulating his answer before speaking, looking down at his own hands, “For years after I met Dean, my body didn’t feel like my own. Like it was someone else’s and I was just stealing his life. It has taken me a long time to… settle into my own skin, as it were. These clothes are his but they fit me now and so have become mine. My other tattoos are copies, but this will be the first thing about my body that isn’t inherited.”

Giva nodded again and asked nothing more, continuing to sketch in silence, she tore three separate pages from her notebook when she was done and laid them out one by one.

Cas didn’t even look at the third sketch, the second one was perfect.

Xxx

“So I drive all this way and I have to drive all the way back again in four days but you’re not gonna tell me what you’re getting?”

“I don’t want you to see it before it’s done.” Cas said, holding Giva’s sketch tightly to his chest. Before Dean had come back in with sandwiches, they had discussed minor tweaks and colours and Giva had given him the sketch to look over in case he wanted to change anything else before his appointment, she assured him that even the day of, if there was anything that he wasn’t certain of it could be changed to his liking as long as he told her before she got her needles out. In fact, all Dean knew about the piece was that it was going to be large and on his back, and that they would probably need more than one appointment to get it all done.

“If it’s Bob Ross’ face, I’m disowning you.” Dean griped.

“You don’t own me,” Cas pointed out. “So disowning me would be pointless.” And then, “and it’s nobody’s face.”

Xxx

It was worth the wait. That was all Dean could think a few weeks later when Cas dropped his shirt so that Dean could see the healed and completed piece. No wonder Giva had looked so pleased with herself after Cas’ last session, no wonder Cas had been beaming through red eyes.

Wings.

If Cas had asked his opinion he’d have said perhaps a little on the nose but he would have been eating those words.

They covered almost the entirety of Cas’ back with anatomically correct (he was assuming) detail but they were by no means static, the top half was full and thick with shimmering feathers, so dark they were almost black, but whatever ink Giva used caught the light, sending beautiful tones of blue, green, purple and magenta skittering across them. They swept down the curve of Cas’ spine where the feathers began to thin, hints of red and orange entered the mix, not enough to take away from the beauty of the above, just a subtle transition where some of the feathers were burning and curling into ash, then further down still those burnt and falling feathers twisted in the air, transforming into butterflies the same colour as the healthy feathers that weaved around the now bare bones of the wings.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. “Cas, they’re incredible.”

“I can’t manifest my wings,” Cas said quietly, “but I want you to see them as I see them. They are perhaps the thing I miss most about my old life; the symbol of what I was, powerful and grand and sure. But I’m not bound by their rules anymore. And what I am has changed into something more compressed, more human but infinitely more free. That transformation is largely because of you, Dean, and I can’t thank you enough.”

Dean barely realised he had reached forward to touch one of the burning feathers until Cas shivered under his touch, his fingers followed the wings in their progression, along their changes, they followed Cas’ story and he was the one who should be thanking Cas for letting him be a part of it. Without thinking, he dropped his lips to Cas’ shoulder and pressed them there. Cas turned to meet him and their mouths fitted together like they were made to, like they had done this before a thousand times, like, perhaps, they should have.

@winchester-reload

If you liked this, please consider buying me a coffee.

#suptober #suptoberart2019 #day 25 #tattoos #wings #Destiel #spn fanfic #prompt #writing #TibbinsWrites

224 notes · View notes

ella-se-vuelve-loca · 4 years

Text

Chapter 9

Grand Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

“Can you guys hear me?” I heard Chris ask the cncowners on his live stream he’s doing with Zabdiel. They waited a few moments as comments started pouring in greeting them. “Aye! Hahaha how is everyone? Good?” Chris asked as Zabdiel was reading some of the comments.

Ring

I looked down and saw that (Y/N) was calling my phone. A smile immediately came onto my face as I answered her call.

“Hello?”

“Hey!” It’s like I could feel her smiling on the other line.

“What’s up?” I asked and I could hear some shuffling in the background. “Well, I finally checked out that Netflix Series you were telling me about.”

“Oh, really?” I chuckled. “And?..”

“You were right.. It’s so addicting!” I laughed and played with some of the rings on my fingers. “Right? I told you. I have good taste.”

“I can’t believe I’ve been putting it off for this long. I’m such an idiot.” She laughed as I leaned my head back on the chair I’m sitting on. “I meaannn… you’re not wrong. You can be a dork sometimes.”

“Speak for yourself. You can be a dork as well.” She immediately fired back at me. “Yeah, but I’m your dork.” I mumbled and made sure no one else could that but her. I looked back over to where Chris and Zabdiel are siting and I realized that they were both looking at me... I guess I might’ve been laughing too much? I shrugged my shoulders at them as they got back to talking to the cncowners.

I stood up from my seat and started walking towards the door to go into the hallway. “A dónde vas?” Zabdiel asked as I opened the door, holding the phone close to my ear. “I’ll be right back..” I said and made my way out of the room. “Hey uh now that I have you on the line with me, can I ask you a quick question?” I asked.

“Sure! What’s up?”

“Are you free tomorrow evening?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Mhmm there’s a place I would like to take you and I think you’ll really enjoy it.”

“Where would we be going if I say ‘yes’ to this little adventure of yours?”

“It’s a surprise. All I ask is that you might wanna wear something comfortable and to bring a sweater.. so, what do you say? Will you go out with me tomorrow?”

“I’d have to say that you are something else, Joel.” She laughed. “But sure, I’m free tomorrow. Is there anything else I should bring, Pimentel?” She joked. “Only your cute self.” I smiled as I could picture her blushing at my comment. “Where are we going?” She tried once again to figure out my plans.

“Ah-ah-ah I see what you’re trying to do there. Nice try, but like I told you, it’s a surprise.” I looked back at the door where Chris and Zabdiel sat inside. “Darn it. I thought you wouldn’t catch it and tell me without even realizing.”

“I’m just that good.” I chuckled. “Anyways, I’ll pick you up at 8?”

“It’s a date.”

“I’ll see you then, princesa.”

“I’ll see you then.” I smiled and hung up the phone after we said our goodbyes and walked back into the room occupied by two of my friends. “Hey, guys.” I spoke as I walked towards them both. “What are you guys doing?” I asked.

“Estamos haciendo un Q&A.” Chris said as he looked back to the screen and picked out a question to answer. “Who were you talking to just now?” Zabdiel asked as I looked down at Chris. “I think it was just a friend of his.” Chris spoke for me and brushed it off as Zabdiel slowly nodded and got back to answering questions. I patted Christopher’s shoulder as if saying “thank you” that he covered for me.

That was way too close.

I forgot for a second that they were doing a live and I could’ve blown this whole thing up within seconds. She has to stay a secret. When I break this off with her and get Emilia, then it’ll just be between us and the public wouldn’t know about this. I know this is still very douchebag of me doing this, but I can feel it. I can feel this going my way soon and I’ll get what I want in the end.

I can feel something is about to change or like something is about to happen. I just don’t really know what yet…

“So you’re really not gonna tell me where we are headed?” She asked me as she strapped her seatbelt on and looked over at me. I shook my head and started driving away, heading over to our destination. “I thought you said ‘patience is a virtue’?” I smiled. “Besides, it’s not that far from here anyways.”

We continued to talk as soft jazz music played in the background until we finally made it to where I had planned our date. “We’re here.” I said as I unstrapped my seatbelt.

“The beach?” I nodded and opened my car door before running over to her side and opening her side of the car. “Thank you.” She smiled and at me and got out as I stood behind her. “The water is gonna be cold if we get in.”

“True, but we’re not here to swim..” I slowly turned her chin towards where we were going to be seated at and leaned down close to her ear and spoke. “We’re just gonna have a little picnic.” I chuckled and took her hand in mine, pulling her towards me as we walked on the cold sand. “It’s simple, but sometimes simple is the best way to go.”

She looked at the picnic I had set for the both of us and smiled. “It’s perfect. I love it..” We got ourselves settled on top of the blanket as I had a spare one next to me. Instead of sitting down, we ended up lying down on our sides, hoisting our bodies up by our elbows. “Uh.. champagne?” I asked as I held up the bottle from the basket next to us as she held up the two glasses. “Of course.”

We both clinked our glasses together as she took a sip. I couldn’t help but notice how.. beautiful she looked tonight. I don’t know if it’s the sunset beaming on her skin or how little makeup she wore, but something about her was just drawing me in. I took a sip from my drink and placed it on top of the blanket.

“This definitely is a nice surprise.” She spoke. “I’m glad you like it..” We both looked at the waves in front of us and could hear the water crashing together. “You said you thinking spot and one of your favorite places to be was underneath a.. willow tree? That’s what they’re called, right?” I asked as she nodded.

“Well, my thinking spot is when I’m around water. Whether I’m at the beach, or I’m on a bridge that’s over some water, a swimming pool or even in the shower.” I chuckled. “Something about it is just so relaxing to me and I feel like I can breathe.. be lost in my own thoughts.”

I’ve never really confessed this to anyone, now that I think about it.

Her thinking spot is under a tree and mine is by an ocean of some kind. What goes better than land and water?

I looked up at her and saw her glancing over at the small waves as she let out a sigh. “It’s a good place to think. It sure is beautiful..”

“Yeah.. very beautiful..” She glanced back at me and noticed how I was looking at her and not the view in front of us. A blush spread across her cheeks as she played with the glass of champagne in her hands. I reached over to the basket and pulled out two sandwiches and handed her one.

“Would you care for a sandwich, m’lady?” I asked as she laughed. “Don’t mind if I do, good sir.” She took it out of my hands and took a bite. “Mmm.. avocado?” I laughed and nodded. “Yeah, I like to add it to my sandwiches. It gives it a whole new taste and takes it to the next level. If you don’t like it, I have a few ones that don’t have any.”

“Are you kidding? This is so good! Kind of reminds me of a torta, I’m not gonna lie.” She laughed and took another bite. “A lot of people don’t like them and I’m always like how can you not? It’s delicious.” I took a bite of my own and smiled. “It’s a good fat.” She laughed.

We continued to chat and eat while it got darker and darker.

“Okay okay uh if you were in a TV show or movie, would you rather be the hero or the villain?” I asked her as we looked up at the stars above us from were we lied down. “I think I’d like to play the villain just because I feel like you get to have more fun. I mean don’t get me wrong, It’d be cool to play the hero but… the costumes and the dialogue of the villains always look so much cooler, in my opinion.”

“Really?” She nodded and asked a question of her own. “If a genie granted you 3 wishes right now, what would you wish for?” I thought for a moment as I absentmindedly played with a strand of her hair. “Uhh.. pfft.. to eat anything and never get sick or fat, to get mi caballito azul back and.. for this moment right here, right now, to never end..” I looked down at her and I swear the stars didn’t compare to how pretty her eyes looked in the moonlight.

“… Wait.. what’s your caballito azul?” She asked and I laughed. “Long story short, when I was little, I l grew up with my grandparents and I used to have this blue toy horse and I would always play with it. One day, I lost it and I would cry out ‘Caballito azul! Caballito azul!’ and I never saw it again.”

“Wow, must have been so traumatic for you.” She laughed. “Hey! I’ll have you know it was haha!” I looked back up at the sky and sighed. “Okay, my turn… what’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done in public?” She immediately covered her face and groaned. “There’s so many things, oh my God! I was dreading this question!”

“C’mon! Tell me one!”

“Uh.. okay, I can tell you one thing I did when I was younger.”

“I’m all ears.” She chuckled, cleared her throat and began telling her story. “So, I’m a pretty clumsy person by default, okay?” She laughed. “One time, I was trying to get the attention of this one guy I liked when I was younger and for so long, he just didn’t seem to notice me. The one time he decides to look over my way, I’m going up the stairs and.. haha I fucking trip and my body just slid when I got to the top. I was mortified!”

I burst out laughing as her face turned completely red. “I was like ‘Oh! Well, he notices me now when I’m doing some stupid shit. That’s just great.’ I couldn’t believe it.” She chuckled. “How do you fall going up?”

“I don’t know! I just did!”

“But that’s – ”

“I know!”

“So did he – “

“Nope.”

“Damn.”

Our laughter died down as I found myself looking into her eyes once again. Why are they so captivating? Why can’t I look at anything else but her? A slight breeze hit our skins as I saw her shiver a little besides me. “You cold?” I asked. “Just a little..” I sat up as she followed my movements while I grabbed the extra blanket I had brought just in case it got a bit chillier. “Here..” I placed the blanket onto her and she held it close to her body. “Thank you.. aren’t you cold too?”

“Nah, I can handle it.” I brushed it off and looked back at the waves. “I don’t want you to be cold, and it’s not fair that I’m the only one with a blanket, that you brought by the way. Plus, I have extra room so..” She came closer, her body next to mine, and shared the covers with me. “There, now we can both be warm.” She smiled at me as I wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Thank you..”

Silence…

I hoped she couldn’t hear the sound of my heart thumping rapidly inside my chest. I’ve never held someone like this so close to me and feel so.. comfortable. It just feels so right. I looked down at her and slowly lifted her chin up so she can face me properly. My eyes drifted from her own to her mouth. I parted her lips open slightly with my thumb as my hand went to cup her face and glance back up into her eyes.

They look so soft. I wonder what they would feel like.. against mine.

I slowly leaned down and hovered mine over hers, testing to see if this is okay. She didn’t pull away as I stayed there for a moment, hesitating if I should do this.

I want to.

I really, really want to.

“… Are you.. gonna kiss me or not?” Her voice was so soft that I almost didn’t catch it. It was almost so hard to believe.

I slowly pushed my lips against hers and it felt as if time had stopped and nothing else mattered but her. I moved strands of hair away from her face while she played with my curls. This feels.. good.. too good. It was like a fire ignited inside my bones and I became addicted to how soft they felt against mine.

We pulled away and it was as if I came back to reality and remembered where we were. I looked back up at her and smiled. “.. Come back here..” I pulled her in for another kiss and held her body close to mine, smiling against her lips.

“I had a really great time tonight, Joel..” She spoke as I had walked to her to doorstep. “I did too..” It was as if we were both thinking the exact same thing because the next thing I knew, I had her pinned against her front door while locking lips with her.

I don’t want to stop, but I have to…

One of my hands were on her hips while the other was pinned over her head. We pulled away and I could feel her breath against my own as I gave her one last sweet short kiss. I slowly pushed myself away from her and started walking backwards.

“Goodnight, (Y/N)…”

“Goodnight, Joel…”

I smiled at her and made my way back towards my car. I got inside and waited for her to go in her house before I started driving away.

Only one word came into my mind at this moment.

Woah…

Next Chapter

Wanna be tagged for future fics?

@apla-o-eaytos-mou @pretendcnco @joelitos-baby @chellybear98 @boundtobreakk @cncogirl18 @ericksmamita @pizzaspirits @prettymuch-cnco @cncoaddicted @theweirdsideofstuff @guitargirl006 @cncoawo @ash-zahira @littlestripmix @ashhemmingsstylesvelez @cncohhhhwoah

#cnco #cnco imagines #cnco imagine #joel pimentel #joel pimentel imagine #Joel Pimentel series #Joel Pimentel fic #I HOPE THIS ISNT SHIT LMAOOOO #I HOPE I DELIEVERED #y'all they finally kiss srdytufyguh #omfggg whaaaattt

47 notes · View notes

xmxisxforxmaybe · 5 years

Note

99, 37, 38? Ahkmenrah smut maybe? Little spice? Possible interruption?

I’ve gotten a few requests for a more dom!Ahk, so I’m gonna try that with this request—hope you like it bc I had a friggin’ blast writing it!

Warning: Lotta smut! Def NSFW!

* * * * *

“You’re just soadorable—ah!” you growled out in frustration. “I need to just … bite you,” you said as you lifted Ahkmenrah’s hand to your mouth and gently bit down on his knuckle, his eyes widening a little but his mouth pulling into a smile.

You were settled on the sofa in the break room at the museum, the TV chattering in the background while you sat, playfully perched, on your boyfriend’s thighs.

“Because your feelings overwhelm you, you must bite me?” Ahk asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.

You laughed, kissing his knuckles before letting his hand return to its place on your hip.

“You’re just so cute, Ahk. Do you know that feeling, like when you see a kitten and you just want to hug it and squeeze it because you are so overwhelmed by its cuteness?”

“Um, I am not sure I—”

You rolled your eyes but still held your smile.

“It’s a thing, I swear. And it’s called cute aggression. Something, or in your case, someone, is so cute you just wanna squish them until you can’t squish them anymore.”

Ahkmenrah continued to puzzle through your explanation.

“So, I inspire the same feelings within you as when you see a kitten?”

“Yes!” you shouted, proud Ahk made the connection, but as you began to babble on about the cuteness of kittens, you were oblivious to the shift that overcame your boyfriend. His body began to tense as he straightened and his face smoothed out to be expressionless, his mouth drawing into a thin line.

“Y/N, I would like to go to your place,” Ahkmenrah interrupted, his tone steady and serious.

You raised your eyebrows and shrugged your shoulders. This wasn’t an uncommon request when Ahkmenrah felt stifled by the museum and wanted a change of scenery or if he wanted to spend the night having slow, lazy sex with you instead of just engaging in a quick one-off somewhere around the museum.

“Alright. And Aliyah is out for the night if you’re feeling so inclined,” you said, giving Ahk a wink as you slid off his lap while silently thanking your roommate for being such an extrovert that she was hardly ever around on the weekends.

“Let me go grab your change of clothes—"

“That will not be necessary,” Ahk cut you off as he stood and started for the exit. “Come.”

“Uhh, Ahk, are you sure you—”

But he was already gone, the door that led to the backstreet behind the museum banging shut, leaving you curious as to what caused his sudden shift in behavior.

Once you caught up with him, you tried to ask him if something was wrong, but he shrugged you off until you just stopped asking.

Even though you didn’t live far from the museum, the distance you travelled was enough for the two of you to get a fair share of chuckles and snaps of pictures, but this was New York City after all. Someone dressed in something unconventional wasn’t exactly newsworthy.

You let Ahk into your apartment and when you turned around, his body was in something you could only describe as a power stance. His legs were spread to match the width of his shoulders, his arms were crossed, and his face was an unreadable mask.

It was unbearably sexy to see him looking so … regal. The energy radiating from him made it seem as if the word were his for the taking, as if this tiny New York City apartment could barely contain him.

When he spoke, you jumped, startled from your thoughts.

“Approach me.”

The deep, powerful tone of Ahkmenrah’s command shot straight between your thighs.

You were familiar with ancient Egyptian life, having done your research once you and Ahk grew close, and it occurred to you that perhaps for the first time, you were seeing the man once revered as a god before you. Right now, thisman was not your soft and kitteny sweetheart. This was the man who was once the king of the greatest civilization in the world.

“Kneel,” Ahkmenrah commanded once you were nearly toe-to-toe.

You dropped to your knees and you became aware of your increased heartbeat as you were now face to face with Ahk’s pelvis, and at the thought of what was beneath his shendyt, your breaths became shallow and your cheeks colored with a flush of desire.

“Remove my belt.”

Your fingers acted of their own accord, unclasping the ornamental buckle and gathering the fabric as it slid from his hips.

“Untie my shendyt.”

You willed your hands to remain steady as you reached up to undo the knot. It felt like you were about to see his cock for the first time and you almost chuckled at your own nervousness.

As Ahkmenrah’s shendyt fell to the floor, you looked first at his soft cock, then up and into his eyes. His face was still an unreadable mask, but you shivered when his lips spoke the next command.

“Take me in your mouth.”

You let out a shaky breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and another rush of warm arousal flooded you as you took his soft cock in your mouth. There was something about pressing your face into the coarse hair at the base of him, something about fitting all of him in your mouth as you sucked and swirled your tongue around his cock that made you feel powerful, desirable.

You felt Ahkmenrah tap the side of your cheek and you looked up.

“Open. I want to watch myself harden on your tongue.”

Another wave of arousal crashed over you as the image of you on your knees while Ahk’s cock swelled in your mouth flashed through your mind at his command.

You continued to bob your head, your mouth open as you slid his cock between your lips until it soon became too much for you to take his entire length as he swelled against your tongue.

When he was hard, you began to suck his cock in earnest, teasing him with your tongue, hollowing your cheeks, and bringing your hand up to grip his base. Ahkmenrah made no noise, the salty trail of precum leaking from his tip was your only indication of his continued pleasure.

Before either of you could register the noise of the key in the lock, Aliyah flung open the door and stood stock still in the doorway as she took in the sight before her.

Ahkmenrah closed his cape over the both of you, stuttering, “Th-This is not what it looks like.”

Aliyah laughed as she stepped in from the hallway and crossed to the little end table by the couch, scooping up her charger.

“I’m pretty fucking sure this is … exactly what it looks like. Nice outfit, by the way.”

“Well, this is awkward,” you mumbled from under Ahkmenrah’s golden cape.

Aliyah laughed again as she headed out the door, turning back to say, “I’ll stay at Nikko’s tonight. Carry on, lovers!”

This time, you heard the door latch and the turn of Aliyah’s key as she locked the deadbolt. Ahkmenrah opened his cape and looked down at you. Even though his cheeks were still tinged with a flush of embarrassment or maybe it was just from the surprise, his gaze still radiated the same powerful, determined energy as prior to your interruption.

You were just about to return your mouth to his cock when he gathered up a handful of your hair and tugged you back.

“Go to the bedroom. Undress. Wait for me.”

“Yes, my king,” you said, looking up at him as you tested out the submissive phrase.

Ahkmenrah’s cock had softened a little after Aliyah’s interruption, but at your words, he hardened again.

You slowly stood, careful not to touch him, and you shot him a searing look before you stepped around him and walked to the bedroom.

As you undressed, you thought about what could have brought out this side of Ahkmenrah. You certainly were not complaining, but it was gnawing at your curiosity. And then, the realization hit you so suddenly you had to suppress a giggle. You had called him cute! Or maybe it was that comparison to a kitten?

You laid down on the bed, settling against some pillows as you decided you would test your theory when Ahk eventually came back to the bedroom. Speaking of which, it felt like an eternity passed before a naked Ahkmenrah finally appeared in your doorway.

Ahk looked you over, head to toe, and you felt a blush creep up under his predatory gaze. He leaned against the doorway and slowly pumped his cock, his own thumb sliding over the bit of precum that had gathered.

All illusions of the control you thought you gained back by figuring out his trigger vanished as you watched his hand and thumb work. He kept his eyes on you, clearly letting you know you were the cause of his lust, but he still didn’t move into the room.

Your eyes unabashedly raked over his body, taking in his messy curls, tousled from removing his crown, and traveling across his beautiful face that housed a jawline erotic enough to make a conservative clutch their pearls. You reveled in the tone of his brown skin and the way it darkened around his nipples.

Your eyes travelled to the line of dark hair that began just a little below his belly button and you took in his flat abdomen and the taught little muscles that shifted as he continued to lazily work his cock.

Your gaze continued to travel over his lean legs, the dark hair on them the same color as that little trail below his belly button, all the way down to the perfect slant of his Egyptian toes.

“You are so sexy,” you breathed, your own hand finding its way between your legs as you continued to gaze at Ahkmenrah.

He narrowed his eyes and lifted his chin, finally pushing off the frame of the door and walking toward you. He grabbed the wrist of your hand that had made its way to your wet sex and brought the fingers of that hand to his lips.

You actually stopped breathing as he spread your fingers and dipped each one into his mouth, sucking off any wetness that he found.

“What was that?” he asked. “I am not sure I heard you.”

“S-s-sexy,” you stuttered. “You are so fucking sexy, Ahk.”

“What happened to, ‘my king’?” Ahkmenrah asked with a wicked gleam in his eye as he moved his hand between your legs, lazily spreading your folds and sliding his fingers up and down your soaked center.

You were damn near delirious with the need to come when Ahk began to press into your clit, his thumb moving in a subtle circle.

“I asked you a question,” he said, that same steady strength from earlier still in his voice.

You opened your mouth to answer but a moan escaped your throat instead. You shook your head and tried again, your hips pressing upward into Ahk’s hand.

“My king,” you groaned, your eyes shut, your hands fisted into the sheets, as you felt your orgasm building, fit to erupt with only a little bit more pressure. “Please, please, my king. Let me come.”

“You are so damn cutelike this,” Ahkmenrah said as he pulled his hand away.

You blinked your eyes open, shocked and panting, your pussy clenched in anticipation of the orgasm that was just ready to wash over it.

Ahkmenrah laughed at the expression on your face, and he grabbed your hips and pulled you to the edge of the bed, lining your entrance up with his cock.

“I will never … call you cute … again,” you said slowly, your voice weak and hesitant.

Ahkmenrah shook his head no, indicating that it wasn’t calling him cute that bothered him.

“I must be certain my queen does not think me to be meek, kittenish, if you will,” he said, his eyes flickering from your face to the tip of his poised cock.

“I can assure you, I think you are the boldest, sexiest man I have ever met.”

“Then be sure to scream my name when I make you come,” he breathed as he entered you in one hard thrust.

And scream his name, over and over again, you did.

#Ahkmenrah #ahk #ahkmenrah x reader

448 notes · View notes

fadingcoast · 4 years

Text

Death Of The Lie || Chapter 25: History

AUTHORS: @fandom-and-feminism & @fadingcoast

Summary: Odin and his daughter Hela are the perfect conquerors of the universe. The nine realms fall one after the other into their clutch. After Odin takes a second wife and has a son with her, he doesn’t need Hela anymore. Hela abandons her father and ends up marrying Laufey, a sworn enemy of the Aesir people. Not long after, she becomes pregnant with Laufey’s child. Odin cannot let that son be born, but against all odds, the boy survives. Odin is forced to bring him back to Asgard to be raised as his own until he could make further use of him. The half-Jotun-half-Aesir boy grows up to look and act a lot like his mother, which disturbs Odin, and makes him treat the boy horribly. Odin’s lies are deep and complex, but one day the boy will find out the truth about everything he is.

PAIRING: Multi RATING: Teen

MASTERLIST

Feedback is always appreciated and reblogs are encouraged!!

Chapter 25: History

A loud bang sealed all doors leading to the hall. Hela barely had time to register the clamor of dozens of soldiers trying to knock the doors down, as she realized where she was.

The throne room was nothing like she remembered. The golden walls and bright colored paintings depicted the current royal family. Drawings of Thor, and Frigga, of Odin himself sitting on his golden throne, Gungnir in his hand, the image of a benevolent magnanimous god, surrounded her.

It made Hela sick.

“How many more lives did it cost to pretend I was never born, I wonder?” She muttered to herself. She seemed not to be paying attention to Loki, or his blade on her neck.

Loki stared at Hela intently, trying to read her expression. What he found was rage, disappointment, contempt, and pain… so much pain. He lowered the knife and made it disappear, releasing Hela from his hold.

She did nothing, she didn’t even move for a moment, looking around the throne room trying to find some familiarity. There was none. All the walls had been repainted, all the pillars remodeled, all the tapestry replaced. Everything that was there before was erased, covered up. Tossed aside, locked up and forgotten, just as I was.

Hela clenched her jaw, and walked slowly towards the throne, the one thing that remained almost the same. Loki stepped back and gave her some room.

“The truth, my dear Loptr, burned Odin so badly that he had to cover it up with lies,” she spat, running a finger over the arm of the golden chair. “The truth would have destroyed everything he ever knew. And he would have set the Nine Realms ablaze before yielding to that fate.” Hela stopped right in front of the throne and closed her eyes. One solitary tear ran down her cheek. “He burned my entire existence to ash instead.”

The war room was buzzing with the murmurs of the generals, while Odin heard yet another account of Frost Giants being spotted by Midgardians. Hela had been sent by the King himself to find why the Jotuns were so interested in Midgard all of the sudden. What she told him did not please the All-father. After all, Midgard was Asgard’s to protect, and to exploit.

More than that, Hela knew Odin wanted to be persuaded into war. The Frost Giants were a thorn in Odin’s side, one he would use any excuse to get rid of. But he had to be smart about it if he wanted his men to follow him to battle.

Losing her patience and tired of hearing Odin dismiss yet another peaceful approach, Hela stood up. “I would like to speak to my father alone,” she addressed the soldiers.

The Hersir looked at the king, surprised by the Princess’ tone, but obeyed anyway, nodding his head as he left the room, followed by the other divisions’ generals.

“Father, the Jotuns are NOT trying to invade Midgard! Why are you still not telling that to the Hersir?”

Odin scoffed, deflecting the question. “Are you going to let yourself be fooled by their lies? I thought I had taught you better!”

“You know what I am saying is no lie. Jotunheim is dying,” Hela said, with an exasperated sigh. “Soon, they will have no home at all.” She paused and took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. “Midgard is wide and large, it has vast cold regions where they can settle without disturbing or be disturbed by Midgardians. All they want is your blessing-”

“No! I will not allow those monsters to invade Midgard!”

“Are you not listening to what I am saying? They do not want to invade Midgard.” Hela pressed, repeating what she had told Odin too many times by now. “You are the Allfather, the protector of the Nine Realms!” She emphasized the last words, making Odin flinch. “If you deny them the chance to leave their home, to rebuild their lives somewhere else, you are dooming them to extinction!”

“One less enemy to worry about!” Odin growled.

“They are not our enemies anymore! Will you drop your pride for one second and realize that?”

Odin pounded the table with his fist and stood up. “Do you forget what they have taken from us?! From you?!”

Hela bit her tongue, knowing forgiveness didn’t have room in Odin’s heart. She knew the story, not because she remembered it, but as it had been recited to her a million times, of how her own mother led the fight, how she was imprisoned and executed by the Frost Giants. The story, she had learned much later, wasn’t exactly as Odin told it.

She stood defiant in front of Odin. The King no longer intimidated her, for as powerful as he might have been seen by Asgard and the realms, she knew better. She knew about all the skeletons in his closet and the secrets swept under the carpets.

After all, she was the Goddess of Death. And death spoke to her.

“Laying waste to Jotunheim, murdering the Jotuns and letting their planet die will not bring my mother back,” she stated. “And even if that were possible, you have already found and wedded a replacement,” she added bitterly. “I don’t see what more vengeance you could possibly want.”

Loki had listened in reverent silence to Hela’s recounts. He tried hard to remember all the books he had read - he knew there were some mentions of a previous Queen, but it was never elaborated. His grandmother’s name had been erased from Asgard’s memory, as was her daughter’s.

My very blood has been covered with black ink.

“I left Asgard for good after that day,” Hela continued. “He sent out soldiers to search for me, only for them to find me exactly where he knew they would find me, on Jotunheim. That’s when the rumours and stories started.” She walked to stand in the middle of the foyer, her eyes squinted closed. “They were told I was violent and unstable. They were told I was out for blood, eager to conquer the universe itself. They were told I was consorting with the enemy to bring down Odin’s bloodline, and Asgard with it. They were told I would usurp the throne for our enemies. And they listened.”

As she spoke, Hela summoned several swords and threw them to the ceiling, creating cracks between the paintings of the royal family. The blades wedged deep in the plaster, but remnants of Odin’s magic kept it in place.

“All of it was, of course, a lie. Odin’s new young wife had already given birth to a baby boy.”

“Thor,” Loki said, and Hela nodded.

“The moment the boy was born, my destiny was sealed. He had another heir, his bloodline secured. He had a fresh, new mind to twist to his will. I wasn’t needed anymore.”

Hand raised in the air, she willed her magic to counteract that which was holding the ceiling together. Her swords vibrated and a bright green light emanated from them, spreading through the cracks and loosening the material. Large pieces of plaster fell around them. The old paintings that were revealed were very different.

Hidden behind the saintlike paintings of Odin, Frigga, and the Princes were images of war, of bloodshed and tyranny and death. Odin, on his eight-legged horse beside Hela herself, who was mounted upon a giant wolf, riding into battle together. Hela, at the head of a dark army of Einherjar, fire consuming the background. Soldiers wielding whips while emaciated citizens build a castle of gold. Odin and his Queen, a raven-haired beauty with bright eyes and a wicked smile.

The painting that made Loki stumble in shock was poised above the throne, the biggest one of all. Hela and Odin stood side by side, arms raised, with soldiers surrounding them and necroswords protruding into the burning sky. Odin had his spear, while Hela proudly held Mjolnir aloft over her head.

Hela broke the silence, watching Loki carefully. “I was raised to be Queen of the Nine Realms. With my mother gone, all I ever knew was what Odin told me. I would come to realize, after it was too late, that I was lied to and manipulated to follow in Odin’s steps. I made my own way, educated myself, found out things for myself. I was banished for refusing to fall in line, for daring to question him.”

This pattern was familiar to Loki, for he had been punished for rebelling against his so-called father too. At least Odin was consistent. Hela walked around the broken plaster, while Loki followed, staring at the images on the ceiling. A tiny glimpse of what was missing from the archives.

Hela came to a halt, right under a very vivid picture of her mother riding into battle in Jotunheim. The image of a fierce and powerful Queen, her long black hair braided in the warrior’s ways. An army of Valkyries rode behind her.

“I too grew up with tales of the savagery of the Frost Giants, fueled mainly by the battles we fought and the people we lost.” Her conflicted stare was fixed on her mother’s face. “The giants surrendered to Asgard after a bloody battle where Odin managed to kill their King, leaving his only son and heir, Laufey, to take the throne. Laufey didn’t want more bloodshed, he wanted peace for his people. But Odin would not budge. He wished to end their race, burn it to the ground, no matter how long it would take him. All he needed was an excuse.” Hela turned to Loki, a deep sadness in her hardened gaze. “You were the excuse.”

Loki gulped, as a shiver ran down his spine with the weight of those words. The betrayal, losing control over Hela, the political implications of joining Jotunheim and Asgard, what it would mean for Odin, Asgard and the Nine Realms to have a Frost Giant halfbreed sitting on the throne.

“The Casket wasn’t the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day, was it?”

“No,” Odin admitted quietly. “In the aftermath of the battle, I went into the temple, and I found a baby. Small for a Giant’s offspring - clearly abandoned and left to die in the cold. Laufey’s son.”

In his mind Loki saw clear as day that conversation with Odin, right after he had discovered the truth. How the All-father didn’t even flinch when telling him the story. His hands began to shake with fury.

“What of my mother? Had she no say in my fate?”

“Laufey had not publicly taken a Queen. I don’t know who your mother is, or if she even lived through your birth. For all anyone knew, it could have been any random female he wanted to take.”

Loki now knew better. Odin knew all along who his mother was, and that she did not have a say in his fate was Odin’s own doing.

“I wanted only to protect you from the truth.”

Lies!

I was the living embodiment of his mistakes.

His hands started to turn blue, just as they had that day when he held the Casket. His chest felt heavy with the weight of the lies he had been poisoned with throughout his life. His own past was being unveiled, his history, his heritage, his family… his real family, and he could barely cope with it. The images on the ceiling started to spin, as if they were trying to communicate, tell him everything. The air felt too hot, too humid, and he could not breathe. Ghosts danced and swirled around him and he had to wonder if he wasn’t speaking the dead into life.

“Rindr,” Hela suddenly said.

Loki had not noticed she was now by his side. The touch of her rough hands on his was almost tender, and brought him back to himself. “What?” he croaked.

“That is your grandmother’s name.” Hela looked at the ceiling again, the image of the former queen seemed to be looking down at them. “Queen Rindr of Asgard, General of the Valkyrie Army, protector of the Nine Realms.”

Loki took a deep breath and looked up. He had heard the legends of the Valkyries since he was a young boy, but he never imagined that one of their generals was his own blood. A hint of pride blossomed within him. My bloodline is more powerful than I thought. No wonder Odin wanted to keep me under wraps.

Hela remained silent, allowing him a moment to take it all in. When she spoke again, disdain had crawled back into her voice.

“I’m guessing the throne room isn’t the only thing he, well, redecorated.”

Loki shook his head. “I can’t speak for any other part of the castle being altered like this, but I’ve seen the damage done in the library. Books were torn, enchanted, vandalized…”

Hela shrugged her shoulders. “Doesn’t surprise me at all. He had to make sure no one ever knew about what happened. Couldn’t tarnish his precious image.”

A loud banging interrupted their conversation. The palace guards we trying to breach the throne room, and Loki knew it was only a matter of time before they broke through his magic defenses. He searched his mind for a solution, but everything he imagined would end in bloodshed. The soldiers would fight to their last, and Hela could obliterate them one by one without breaking a sweat.

What if there didn’t have to be a fight?

“You want your throne, and it is yours to claim, but the Hersir won’t recognize your ruling,” Loki said. “Odin saw that every shred of your life was erased. These soldiers haven’t been around long enough to have known you.”

Another bang, and Loki could feel the magic barrier thinning. Hela nodded her head and raised her hand, holding a temporary second barrier against the door. It wouldn’t last long, but it would buy them a bit more time to think.

“Then we have to find people who will,” Hela said. “Is that wretched traitor Heimdall still around?”

Loki shook his head. “He escaped.”

“The head healer, Eir?”

Loki shook his head again. “She retired after Frigga died, and left the realm. There is a way we could track her down, as she has settled in the mountains of Vanaheim now, but-” Loki stopped mid phrase, as if something had clicked inside his brain. A frantic smile spread across his face. “I know someone… I know where we can get the information you need!”

Hela looked at Loki cautiously, sizing him up.

BOOM!

Instinctively, both summoned weapons to their hands in an automatic move, and Hela was forced to drop her magic.

“And why you are going to help me, when just moments ago you held your own blade to my throat?”

“There are many things I still don’t know,” Loki simply said. “You’re the key to unlocking the truth.”

Hela looked surprised, but she had no time to respond. The wooden doors were beginning to splinter, and in just a few seconds hundreds of Einherjar would be upon them both.

“Norns, she is going to kill me for pretending to be dead and not telling her,” Loki said out loud to himself. He reached out to grab Hela’s arm. “We’re going to Alfheim.”

<< Chapter 24 – Chapter 26 >>

@nikkalia @xalgaliareptx @christy-winchester @silverhart93 @honeybournehippy @unseelie1963 @manager-of-mischief @angryowlet @thelittlestlittlecutiepie @moonlightprime @velvetzybanshee @bengalaas @damalseer

#Loki #Loki (marvel)#Hela #Hela (Marvel)#Loki Helason #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #marvel fanfiction #DOTL #death of the lie

17 notes · View notes

moldy-mold · 5 years

Text

Diary Post: My Thoughts and Processes on Making “Silent Strength” It’s lengthy, taking place over long period of time. Mainly written for my future-self to remember what I went through, but also for anyone who is curious. Now that the project is over, I can post without reservations. There are certain things I need to keep secret though, so if I’m vague I do so intentionally!

Basically, a lot of number-crunching, physical labor, and psychological labor.

It started off as kind of a joke tweet I made. I had enough content to make a Tales Of art book and people were receptive to it. So… I thought maybe I could go somewhere with this. A few weeks later, I suddenly had a lot of Kratos art. Like. 80% of all my Tales art was Kratos. It didn’t make sense to make a broad Tales Of book when really most of it was Kratos.

I hadn’t made a book since I was in college despite it being one of my favorite things to do. They were never art books, just some editorial design projects that totally didn’t count. This book… would be my first-ever art book.

Several times, I came close to having enough art to print a book - the last time was my large collection of Yusuke Kitagawa, but the quality wasn’t where I wanted. At that time, I was still experimenting with my iPad Pro and figuring out Procreate, so that was what I used him for.

NGL, I was pretty afraid of looking like a clown. After doing all this work, what if no one actually buys it? I was talking to some friends and they said they would buy it. It was enough for me. In the end, I’m creating something that I love. - The first thing I really wanted to work on was the cover. It needed to be epic but also mysterious (lol)… It was a good time to practice lighting and backgrounds. The cover had to be freaking Fantastic. I spent 3 days drawing nonstop. I was on vacation so I could spend full days just drawing. It was really intense. I would stop in the evenings to go for a run or else my legs would never get circulation again.

The hardest part was keeping it secret. I wanted to share it with the world right away bc I was so proud of it. Well, all I could do was show it to my parents and some close friends. They didn’t know who Kratos is, but it was obvious I was crazy about him.

Initially, I was doing some hand-lettering for the zine title instead of using a typeface. Tbh, I was so sure I was naming this zine “Blame Your Fate!” bc that is such an iconic line. But it just didn’t work with my cover, which looked… a little too serene for that. So… Silent Strength or Divine Strength? I asked around and got my answer.

But what size? All of my art has been on letter canvases. I wanted it to be large so you could see the details in the art. I’ll just start with that. - Luckily, I had all my Kratos-related art in one place. I started my InDesign file and threw everything in there just to see what it looked like. Man, I draw a lot of boxes… But I didn’t want them all next to each other. I also wanted to kinda organize it by the people Kratos hangs out with. There’s a Yuan section LOL… and a Lloyd section… and an Anna section. Idk, I tried to get some kind of order in there with a sprinkling of full spreads here and there to keep it fresh and interesting for the eyes.

I hadn’t worked with InDesign on such an intense level since college. I forgot all of the tips and tricks we learned in class. Spent some time reading on how to do things again… like adding page numbers. - I started drafting my pre-order form. It’s my first time making a google form like this. It’s kind of fun? I spent a long time on it, despite how simple it was. This was going to be my “Store” so it had to look and sound good. - My friend introduced me to charm-making. It seemed easy enough, and I wanted to give my zine more oomph. Besides, I’ve always wanted to make a charm.

I remember someone saying they’d buy a book of just the 4 Seraphim if it existed. I like them too and they lack art imo. In the end, I decided to do a polaroid charm. It’s not really that unique but I wanted Kratos to have actual friends to hang out with for once LOL.

She was going to do a group order to try to reduce the costs. I thought maybe 4 weeks would give me enough time. In the end she said I only have 2. I work well under pressure, so needless to say, I did make that deadline. I actually sketched the whole thing on the plane headed home. - After playing the game the second time, watching the OVA again, and reading “Offerings to a Star,” I have gained a real soft spot for Yuan. My friend once said, “If you weren’t stolen away by Kratos, you would be in love with Yuan.” Lol. I’ve been in a “Kratos and Yuan hanging out” mood lately, so of course I needed something good for the zine. They’re so cute together! Now… what is the bro-est thing I can draw?

I was currently in Florida for my friend’s wedding. I was friends with the groom and his best man since high school, so that makes it 10 years now. Seeing how they’re still friends after all this time, despite living in opposite sides of the country, was really moving to me. Of course, me being me, I could see Kratos and Yuan’s long friendship being similar to this, if they had gone to school together. I just had to draw it. - When I got back from vacation, I did some research on zine sizes. Mine was HUGE compared to others. I just didn’t quite realize it until I held a magazine in my hands. It really is huge…

I settled for a medium size. 7x9. I really liked how it looked. Petite but not too petite. Unfortunately resizing my book had messed up my artwork placement so I spent hours rearranging all the text and resizing my images. I found out afterwards that there’s a way to retain the format while changing the document size. Gee, that would have been helpful 4 hours ago.

Sadly, choosing a custom size booklet makes printing more expensive. But I wanted it badly enough that I’d be willing to pay for it. Letter size is just too large… - I decided to stop dragging my feet and post a promo. I just really needed a deadline for myself to get this all done before July ended. I’m happy it was well-received. A lot of people like Kratos huh…

Anyway, the pre-order is due in a week and I still don’t know what all the costs are yet. I need a physical proof ASAP to weigh at the post office! - Something possessed me one day to do another drawing. I don’t usually do painterly style (mainly because it’s really difficult and takes 10x longer) but I just REALLY wanted to push myself on this Final Piece to the zine. I wanted it to be… radiant. Almost religious. I worked on it obsessively. From breakfast to sundown. The only time I would stop was at 7pm to go running or else my legs would give out on me.

Call me crazy, but I would save my progress on my phone so I could examine it for errors during my warmup. I also spend an hour examining it for errors before going to bed. It’s a miracle I hadn’t dreamt of the painting. - I sent my files in on Sunday in hopes that they start working on it first thing on Monday…. and it HAPPENED! They finished before I even woke up. I think they start work at like 6am…

Of course, I drove over there as soon as I heard so I can get a look. “Please… please let the colors be okay,” I prayed as I was driving. I barely remember driving there, I was so lost in thought. It would be another long ordeal if I had to fix all the colors.

Thank the stars. The press proof looked BEAUTIFUL!! I was screaming to the client coordinator how much I loved it. I mean, I worried for a looooong time that everything would turn out too dark (it usually does) but it was PERFECT. I was especially worried about the cover, which contained a lot of yellow and I def did not want it to come out mustardy… But it was great in the end!

The press operator is a quiet man. He’s got a scary face and never smiles but I think he’s secretly nice. He has done a lot of favors for me in the past without my asking. He was the one to print, bind, and trim the book for me. Obviously he had to have seen what I was drawing. I wonder what he thought of it…? He walked away before I could express how happy and thankful was. He didn’t need to hear it. It was like he already knew. So cool…

I immediately took it to the post office to weigh it. I needed as much info as I could get and plus, I was dying to know for myself. This is the week I was supposed to open pre-orders and there was still a lot I needed to do. Take pictures, create mockups, pricing, etc.

NGL, all of these costs were building up fast. It was so darn expensive to make a zine while also keeping prices down. But I wanted so much more for my baby. Extra glossy cover, perfect binding!! I knew by the end of this, I probably wouldn’t make much money. It hurt a little, but I tried to think that it was for the greater good. Learning experience and all that. And creating something beautiful. Especially something beautiful of Kratos. - Pricing was really the hardest part. I pretty much threw profit out the window. However, I definitely did not want to be losing money. My dad and I had worked together to create a spreadsheet of expenses to make sure my head was above water. I followed it… loosely.

My friend came to talk to me at the right moment. I was sort of panicking at the prices. She made me realize I was thinking way too hard about it and gave me some tips based on her own experience. It really put my mind at ease talking to someone who understands my woes.

The truth of the matter is, the book is wonderfully made and has a lot of pages - countless hours of drawing. There is only so much I can do about pricing. It is what it is… I just needed to come to terms with my own worth. - Boy, what am I going to do once the zine is done? My friend says that I’ll be so over Kratos that I’ll stop drawing him (but the love remains). It’s like… all of the intense planning, working, struggling nonstop will just suddenly… stop. TBH, I’m running out of ideas. I spent it all on the zine. - Photoshoot today. I had to paint my nails purple for this occasion. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get the look I wanted in the apartment. It’s just so naked without props. I think I’ll take it to a cafe for some nicer backgrounds. I talked it over with my friend and decided to do a quick flip-through of the zine as a promotional video. I used the most professional video program I had on hand… Snapchat. It actually turned out pretty legit and of course I slapped stickers on there because it’s Snapchat.

I had to tape/hide some of the pages for the video because I wasn’t actually done with the drawings. I had the printers print it anyway so I could examine it for color accuracy.

I’m really stressed about pricing now. It turns out I had a lot more international fans than I anticipated. I wish I took notes on interest earlier in the game to cater to them. I had a list of “possible buyers” and I only just now decided to check where they live? Foolish.

I did another cost analysis on paper to figure out what my goal was to make up for the charms. Right now they’ve cost me a fortune for something that was supposed to be giveaway. Other things that rack up are packaging costs, PayPal fees, and some other supplies I needed for this project.

Maybe I shouldn’t have made it 40 pages. It is an impressive number, but no one is really paying for quantity. I think 25 is a better number lol. If I had done that, I could have had my super-gloss cover like I wanted. :’(

There is hope though. And I’ve placed it in the hands of my followers to come through for me. I think I’ll open pre-orders on Saturday or Sunday, depending on what I finish. - “Losing your cool will only lead to poor decisions.”  Thanks, Kratos twitter bot. You always know what to say.

I read this post today on what makes people buy zines. Very interesting!  https://twitter.com/andythelemon_/status/1141469048653398019 - Photoshoot part 2 today. My friend and I went to a cafe nearby that had some nice atmosphere in hopes of finding the right shots. I brought all of my Kratos merch just in case. I’m glad I did though, since the tables were pretty sparse and it was difficult to capture the backgrounds without getting a bunch of random people in it too.

I would have been the photographer, but I definitely wanted my hands in the shots. In a way, it was meaningful - to show that this was made by my own two hands. Plus, I wanted to depict natural interaction with the product. It made it feel real.

The photos were cute! I feared it would look a little amateurish with all the merch in there, but I think fun was what I was really going for, not “professional.” And plus the flip-through was a Snap anyway LOL. As long as the photos have good lighting and tasteful composition, you really can’t go wrong with “fun.”

Now that I’ve finished editing my photos, there really isn’t anything holding me back from opening pre-orders. I’ve pretty much come to terms with my pricing. If I fail to break even, I’ll just have to open commissions to try to make up for it. I was telling my friend on the way home, “I gave this zine EVERYTHING I had to give. So at the very least, I won’t be disappointed in myself.” No stone left unturned, no detail left unchecked. It was perfect according to my standards. I really love my zine okay?!

I thought I was crazy for not only choosing a small fandom, I narrowed it down even further by picking ONE GUY to make this zine about. She replied, “Even if it’s small, those people who love him now must be EXTREMELY LOYAL to still be in love with a character from a 15-year-old game. All of them will want your zine.” - I went to bed that night with the intention of making the pre-order post live in the morning. I was so nervous I couldn’t sleep. I was wide awake until at least 5 or 6 am. Luckily, I was able to doze off for a an hour or two before I would shake myself awake again. It was a mixture of anxiety and excitement. It was the moment of truth - to see if all my effort made a difference. Was it going to sell? - The pre-order post looked really freaking good. I’ll give it that. I even made a YT account just to post that darn preview video on tumblr lol. It was definitely fun seeing everyone’s excitement and we all just freaked out together.

I broke even! That’s what really matters. Honestly at this point, I couldn’t care less if I made profit or not. I now know how much people really like the zine and that alone made me so happy I could die.

I was particularly fascinated at Google Form’s ability to transfer all the data collected into a spreadsheet. That is extremely helpful. I spent hours organizing the data. It was really fun…?! Now I can tell who gets invoiced and who paid and separate them into categories. IT’S FANTASTIC!

Stayed up late researching how much adding tracking could be. I had a slight panic attack thinking “what if my books got lost in transit?” It would really hurt me to have to reprint books and ship them again. And then I realized I will need to fill out customs forms for all international orders. Yikes, I’m gonna be living at the post office lol. You can print them out at home if you fill out the form online but there are still some things I’m uncertain about. I may visit the post office later this week to ask all my questions. - This morning I sent out everyone’s invoices. I gave the international people the option to purchase tracking. It’s expensive… but I need to provide that option just in case.

I received a nice message from someone who offered to advertise for me on Instagram. Of course, I gave them the OK! I’m really so shocked they would do that… They said the liked the zine so much it deserved more exposure. My dude… I love you… T_T

I thought about advertising on insta myself earlier in the week. For some reason I felt it was going to be fruitless since I don’t have an art account on there with a following. So, I gave up on the idea. Hey it worked out in the end.

I’ve never been so organized in my entire life. I want this zine experience to be perfect. The people have placed their trust in me, so I cannot mess up. - Edited some pages in the zine. The typography must be perfect… It made me think back to undergrad days in graphic design school. Man, if only I can present this as a project - photos, videos, matching accessories and all. I’d probably get an A lol. - Orders slow down after the first day. The rest is just about getting new people to see the post and giving other people more time to decide.

I finished my Kratos stationery today. It’s going to be so cute. My friend said people would want to buy it but I don’t have it in me to do more products at this time. Plus, I want it to be a surprise.

Why make stationery? Well my real job (no, I don’t draw Kratos all day for a living) is a stationery designer! It would feel really wrong not to put into practice what etiquette I’ve learned in this business. Plus, I felt that it was necessary to properly thank all those who ordered. And it’s fun?

I started designing the shipping labels for the domestic orders since I don’t need to fill out a customs form for those. I wish I had sticker labels but… it’s okay. It will still look good in the end. - Every so often, I would get nervous at the amount of money I’m responsible for. Perhaps, if I had a store with existing products I wouldn’t feel this way, but the fact that the books haven’t been printed yet made me scared. I know, I need this money to even print the books in the first place, but I’m just baffled at my customers’ trust in almost a total stranger. I felt pressured that I could not let them down and lose that trust. It probably didn’t help that I watched a documentary on Elizabeth Holmes (Theranos) that day.

So, I prayed every single day that nothing would go wrong. I’d check my spreadsheet constantly for any mistakes. It was a little obsessive, but I would rather be that than overlook something.

I began collecting cardboard boxes. My plan was to cut them up to protect the books during transit. I would have preferred hard envelopes but they were a bit pricey. If I have to do more work myself, so be it.

I’ve been getting nice DMs from some buyers. I think my invoice due date scared them… I really did not intend to be strict, but I wanted people to pay now if they can rather than forget about it. This happens at work all the time, so the best thing to do is have it due immediately. It would not look good to have to wait on stragglers when I close pre-orders, so I’ll probably reach out when there is one week left. - My Kratos stationery arrived! Aww it is SO CUTE!!! My babies… I have a lot of notes to write so I got started right away. It’s going to be a lot of work trying to come up with creative ways to say “thank you,” but I don’t mind. I said I was going to put my all into the zine experience so I will.

At long last, the charm order has been put in motion. My friend said it could take a while… I hope it won’t be longer than 3 weeks. I really do not want to keep everyone waiting. I may ship out the ones who did not win a charm first. I mean, there is no reason to make those guys wait. I should ask the charm winners if they still want to wait and see if anyone wants to give it up for someone else who is more patient. Hm. - I finally stopped by the post office today to collect customs forms. I have my work cut out for me since I’m filling all of them in by hand. D:

I’m not used to international addresses so I think I’ll ask for help in checking them for spelling errors and typos. Heaven forbid I mess up on the very last part of the zine experience.

In my nervousness, I decided to reach out about invoices early on. If someone wanted to cancel, I would rather find out sooner rather than later. Everyone was really nice about paying and thank goodness they’re still excited.

Feeling kind of overwhelmed by all the things I need to do, but it’s a good thing. If I don’t know what to do, I can either: cut cardboard, write letters, type shipping labels, draw more Kratos for a… possible volume 2? Someone I talked to today already said they’ll pre-order a second book if I make one. Omg I think I’ll die. But we’ll see. It’s just a joke right now haha… - Preorders end today. I had another nightmare last night that the books could not be printed properly and there was nothing I could do. Why do I keep getting nightmares about the zine! I had one a few days before about people canceling their orders when I asked them about the invoices. I’ll take these dreams with a grain of salt. I’m probably just stressed/worried but everything is going to be okay. When I open my eyes, nothing is on fire.

I received my final proof a few days ago. With all of the artwork completed and changes applied. The book looks good, no doubt about it. There was only one thing I was nit-picky about but it can be fixed. The press operator offered to print another book for me to inspect. I’ll go see it on Monday and then submit the rest of the orders. I also asked to to have a meeting with the press operator so we are on the same page. It would be beneficial to have an understanding of how my book is made so that I may be more helpful to him.

I spent the day preparing shipping labels. I hate to admit, I am not too familiar with the format international addresses so I had an address validator open as I was typing them in. For the most part, everyone was helpful in already formatting their addresses in the preorder form! - My parents called me the day after preorders were closed. They wanted to say congratulations on my success. No one thought it would do this well. I couldn’t be offended by that since I was also guilty of it. I’m happy though. It feels like my love spread across the world and was contagious.

I tried to think of what advice I would give to others. Obviously, genuine love for the subject and hard work were a necessity. But it would be good to consider value. If I were selling it at this price, I had to make sure my pieces and presentation looked the part. I ask myself, if someone else sold it, would I buy it?

I sent out messages to all the charm winners in the morning. I wanted to apologize profusely at the ridiculous amount of time it has taken to get them made. But no, I’ve got to stop apologizing. I stated the facts and left it at that. Everyone was really kind and patient⁠—to which I was thankful for. I don’t usually get that when I’m working customer service. - All the books were done printing in one day. Wow! I went to pick it up immediately of course. I can’t believe all of this is coming to an end. I finished preparing the mailers. All that was left was to stuff and seal the domestic orders. They were the easiest to do so I’m going to ship those first. The rest will need customs forms, which I haven’t filled out just yet. It’s going to be a while for those…

The mailers were quite sturdy with the cardboard cutouts I slipped in them. I have nothing to worry about. I’m sure my babies will be okay! - I took a whole box of domestic orders to the post office today. Wasn’t sure what to expect. But my clerk had to input every single address one at a time while I checked for errors. Omg, why are the post office shipping labels SO HUGE. I thought it was going to be half the size. And they’re ruining my designer labels! Slight panic but oh well…

I had a long long line behind me. I’m so sorry, people. Luckily there were two clerks or I would be really sweating. Despite my intimidating box of zines, the clerk and I had Synergy and we managed to ship all of these in about 15 minutes. I received a very long receipt and quite the bill lol. - Shipped the international orders today. I was kind of a mess since I had no idea what to do. I keep wondering if I can help speed up the process in any way but I don’t think I have the option to ship first-class at home.

When shipping international, keep the post office copy of the customs forms together with the package since they use that to type the address info into the system. Also, we get free tracking, which I did not know about. The other clerk told me that we did not get tracking for international first-class but I guess he was misinformed. It’s good to know for next time. - The charms finally arrived!! And THEY’RE HOLOGRAPHIC?! It was pretty awesome, but it makes picture-taking kind of difficult!! Anyway, I was a tiny bit disgruntled that they got my order incorrect, and I even asked for a reprint. But they said no, so I left it at that. Besides, it seems the holographic effect was well-received.

I like this size that I made. It’s really cute! Larger than your normal charm but not too huge. It’s almost like an Instax photo! - There was one customer who I found lives near me! I asked her if she wanted me to hand-deliver it to her in a public setting and she agreed (to my amazement). We finally met a few days ago and talked for hours and hours lol! I’m glad to have finally made a new friend here in this town but of course she’s moving away in two weeks. <:’3

We’re going to meet again to make the most of her time left. - I shipped the rest of the orders on the following Monday. I HAD to get these out. The poor guys have been waiting over a month! I think I picked a bad time to go because I had a huge line behind me and only one guy working. People in line were getting antsy or mad. The clerk at the other post office was super fast but not this guy…

For some reason shipping to the UK and Japan nearly doubled in price since the last time I checked. RIP. T_T - Omg I finally made a mistake. I wrote a letter to the wrong person. And the contents of that letter are too personalized!!! I am dying of embarrassment!!!!! Screams!! Had to apologize to both customers too!!! Luckily they were good sports about it but I’m seriously kicking myself AAAAAAAA!!!! - The most rewarding part after sending all my babies away is seeing the commentary on my project. It is so so nice to receive positive feedback. People are happy! Happy with something I created out of thin air. Everything was worth it 1000 times over. I can die happy!

I’m especially thankful to those who show understanding for how much effort went into it. It definitely wasn’t easy and I poured way too many hours into it… not that I regret that.

I don’t want to jump the gun but I would really love to make a volume 2. Because I know I can do better than last time. New and improved art and comics! But we’ll see if I make enough pieces for another book. I was against printing 40 pages before but now I kind of like it. It feels more worth it than a 25-page zine. If i’m going though so much effort, might as well bring in the entire package.

I’ll be printing more of this volume for Aselia Con 2020. Now I know people will appreciate it.

#diary

16 notes · View notes

salmonthestoryteller · 5 years

Text

White Noise

I can't watch the new episode til my CW app updates with it, so I'm keeping myself busy and not looking at spoilers. (Even though I'm dying to.)

From @roswellprompts :

isobel avoids going into michael’s mind because navigating around his chaos is near-impossible

White Noise

A Roswell New Mexico (2019) Fanfic

The first time Isobel tried to use her powers on Michael, they were twelve. Instead of the usual silence that came with talking to someone in their minds, there was a cacophony of noise. It was so loud, she almost pulled back right away. Even as he faced her in his own head, he seemed distracted by something. The blank wall of Max's bedroom wasn't blank in Michael's mind. It was slowly filling with arithmetic, as if someone was writing on it with marker.

“Okay, let's try this. What started the fight?”

“Peter was a jerk.” Michael was looking at the wall instead of her, and she almost wished she could snap her fingers at him to get his attention. She didn't think that worked in telepathy, though.

“Michael, pay attention.”

“Sorry.” He turned back to her.

“Okay, so what did Peter say?”

“All the usual stuff.” Michael shrugged, and the noises grew louder. She could almost make out voices, but not words. “I know you want to practice your powers, but this is dumb.”

She drew back with a groan. “Why is your head so loud?” She complained.

Michael seemed slightly upset by her words. “What do you mean, loud?”

“It's like noisy. Max's isn't like that.”

“Maybe Max's head is just empty.” Michael suggested.

“Oh, you're going down for that!” Max tackled him.

Forced to hurry out of the way as the two wrestled each other, Isobel crossed her arms with a sigh. Brothers could be so dumb. Maybe she'd just keep practicing on humans.

-----

The first time she tried to get information out of Michael he didn't want to share they were sixteen.

“Is it true?” She had ambushed him at his truck alone before school Monday morning. Max had been telling her to leave it alone since Saturday, but that wasn't happening.

“Uh, is what true?” Michael clearly had no idea what she was talking about.

“Kate Long tweeted a picture of you kissing Heather Miller at the Long Bonfire Friday.”

“Well, there's a picture - so obviously we kissed.”

“That's not what I'm asking!” Isobel groaned. Why were her brothers so thick about social nuances? “Did you have sex with her?”

Michael glanced around, as if afraid someone might have overheard. “Iz, what the hell?”

“Well, did you? Wyatt is telling everyone how you two were literally rolling in the hay, but Vanessa Galvez says there's no way you two did the deed. Spill!”

“No way. None of your business.”

“I bet you told Max.” She accused.

“Max isn't going to share whatever I told him with the gossip mill of Roswell High.”

“It's already all over the gossip mill. Might as well be the real story.” She tried to reason.

“No dice.”

“I bet I could make you tell me.”

“I bet you couldn't.”

“I bet I could.” Narrowing her eyes as they faced off, she dove into her brother's mind.

As always, Michael's head was noisy. This time she didn't even see him at first. She felt like she was in the eye of a tornado. The parking lot didn't even settle into a faded background, but spun around her dizzyingly. “Michael!” She called out.

“Stop being dumb, Iz! Get out!” Michael's voice echoed about her.

“C'mon! I know it's not that important. Just last semester you said Heather had the IQ of a bug.” She squinted at the whirlwind, and pushed her powers out - forcing the background to become static.

“So?” Michael appeared beside her, scowling. “She's pretty, and it's not like she's interested in me either. She never talked to me outside of class, except at the dumb bonfire.”

“See? So it's no big deal.” She bounced in place. Despite the visual having settled, the noise only seemed to get louder as they argued.

“Will you just get out, Iz?”

Resisting the urge to cover her ears, she pushed with her powers again. “C'mon, did you have sex with Heather Miller?”

“Yes, okay? Get out!”

The next moment she was throwing up by the tire of Michael's truck. “Oh shit, Iz - you okay?” He dove into his truck to pull a nail polish remover bottle out of the glove compartment.

After a few sips, the sick feeling went away but her head still pounded dully. “T-told you I could do it.”

“You're so dumb.” Michael groaned.

“Your mind is kinda crazy. It never settles, y'know?” She took another gulp.

“Try living in it.” Michael countered, lips quirked in a one-sided smile.

She reached up to pull at his curls, and he swatted her hand away. “Sorry, I pushed. I won't tell anyone. I still don't know why Heather Miller, though. You don't even like her.”

Michael shrugged. “Don't really like anyone, y'know? People suck.”

She sighed, and let him pull her to her feet. “Yah, they do. But they can't all suck, right?” The look Michael gave her was doubtful. “Someday we'll meet people who don't suck, and get swept off our feet.”

“Sure.” He took the acetone bottle back as she pulled mints out of her purse, accepting one from her tin when she offered. “But don't hold your breath.”

-----

She debated the day after the murders about trying to look at his memory. It didn't make sense to her - he hadn't completely lost control of his powers in years. She was sure there was more to this mystery fight that caused him to drink, but they were all hurting so much. Max's pain was a constant throb through their connection, and the idea of trying to access the chaos of Michael's mind was too much. She let it go.

-----

“I'm not sure how to describe it.” Michael admitted, as Kyle continued to examine him. “It was this light, but it wasn't a light.”

“Can you look in his head, see what it was like?” Liz asked Isobel.

“Iz hates my head.”

“What do you mean, she hates your head?”

“Michael's mind is noisy, and spinny.” Isobel tried to explain.

“Chaos.” Alex glanced at where Michael was seated. Still temporarily blinded by the strange light, Michael couldn't meet his eyes, but he saw his head turn slightly in his direction.

“Good as words as any. It makes it hard to navigate.”

“And no other minds you've been in have been... spinny?” Liz asked.

“It's not like I've used my powers on a large variety of people. I don't have that many to compare it with.”

“Have you tried playing music while you're using your powers on him?” Alex suggested.

“It's not like Isobel invades our minds on a regular basis.” Michael spoke up. “We've never tried anything.”

“You don't seem surprised by it.” Kyle pointed out.

“Yah, I know what my mind is like.”

“What is it like?”

“Just… busy. Constant. Never quiet.”

Kyle frowned, looking thoughtful. “Does it make it hard to concentrate?”

“No, the opposite. Once I start on something I can get completely lost in it.” Michael admitted.

“Trouble sleeping?”

“Like I said, it's never quiet so, yah.”

“Any sensitivity to sound or light? Repetitive motions or tics?”

“What's with the twenty-one questions?”

“Cuz it sounds like an undiagnosed neurodevelopmental disorder.”

“Yah, well, nobody asked you for a diagnosis of my messed up head, okay?” Michael snapped.

“It’s not messed up, Guerin. It's a medical condition.” Kyle told him.

“Can we get back on subject?” Michael looked away, despite not actually being able to see him.

“If you're ever interested, I can get you material on it.” Kyle let the offer hang for a moment before stepping back. “You going to try your mind meld thing?”

“Yah. “ Isobel stepped up to take his place. “Ready?”

Michael blew out a breath. “If you are.”

“Hey.” Alex stepped up to take his hand. “Try concentrating on a chord. Play it in your head.”

Isobel saw him squeeze Alex's hand before releasing it. “Let's go.”

Fini

Ever since Miss Evans mentioned Michael drawing the symbol on the walls, I couldn't help but think they were hinting he had ASD. How he describes his mind to Alex when they're teenagers, his lack of connection with others, his obsession over the spaceship, and even his high intelligence could all fall under possible signs. Or I could just be reading things into nothing.

I couldn't help but use the prompt to explore that theory a bit, and to write some young Isobel and Michael interaction. Izzy is threatening to steal my fav character spot, seriously. She needs to stop being so awesome.

#roswell nm fanfic #fanfic #isobel evans #michael guerin #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #prompts #headcanons

89 notes · View notes

sylleboi · 5 years

Text

𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖔𝖘𝖈𝖔𝖕𝖎𝖓𝖌 | 23/10/19

During the morning we went to the photography department of the school where we would start the day off there by filming our own footage to rotoscope later on. There were no restrictions as to what we were allowed to do in front of the camera and green screen, but we had to move from one side of the screen to the other. I decided to go for a gun man or James Bond type of vibe. I didn’t want to just do a simple walk or run cycle, but instead I wanted to challenge myself a little. I did this by sneaking into frame, holding my hands up as if I was holding a gun (this added a prop that I would have to draw form scratch during the process of rotoscoping) then doing a turn and running back out the frame. When recording the clips in the green screen room, I also decided to turn around and then turn back while moving to add to the difficulty of animating everything together. This is how both of them turned out:

I decided to go with the first of the two clips for my rotoscope. I did this simply because of the turn being slower and therefore making it more challenging to animate the gun to follow the movement in such a way that it won't look “out of place”.

I didn’t find the time during college hours to actually do the rotoscope for this, so I did it at home using my own program (Krita) and my drawing tablet.

The process was relatively simple; I took the video and took a screenshot of each frame as I went, dragging the screen grab onto the canvas and began tracing my figure. As I went, I also drew in the gun for each frame, lining it up with the position with my hands.

To keep the appearance of the gun consistent I copied most of the frames, up until I came to the part where I had to change the perspective of which the gun is seen from (during the turn).

Once I had finished the whole rotoscope this is what I was left with:

The finished amount of frames came to 66. Quite a high number for such a short animation, but I didn’t want to take away from the fluidity and smoothness. Now I could have just left it here, but I wanted to do some more experimenting. I tried out filling in the clothes with some texture to create a more interesting looking sequence, but half way through I decided to go back to the original linework since I just wasn’t happy with how it was turning out, but here was that in motion:

Instead I did a bit of brainstorming, thinking about what I could do to improve what I had already made. Here’s the mindmap of the brainstorm that I did:

So as you can see, I ended up wanting to experiment with depth, leading me to be doing something to the background. Most of the mind map is based off visual language. I found using this as the root for my brainstorm really useful due to the way you can interpret each term differently to whatever the context is. I will definitely be doing this again and experiment with it further in the future.

I had also settled on wanting to keep it monochrome (misspelling in mind map) and more specifically drawing towards the style of the classic black & white manga comic book style. Based on this, what immediately popped into my mind was this program I recall trying out years and years ago called Medi Bang Paint Pro, or as I think it was used to called; Medi Bang. I was probably around 12 or 13 when I first downloaded it, but I didn't know what I was doing what so ever, so I quickly gave up. For a long time it wasn’t compatible with Mac up until recently; so I decided to take a shot and download it again. The program is free; but that wasn’t the main reason to why I wanted to try out this program again in particular. It has a lot of great tools for drawing and building comic pages, and I thought “What would it look like if I made a background inspired by traditional manga?”- so that’s what I did.

I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to pull it off at first, so I did a little test run beforehand and I really liked the result:

So the way that I did this was by taking a picture (that I unfortunately have lost now) and then proceeding by changing the levels of the picture, playing around with it until it’s primarily just blacks and whites. With a brush tool I began cleaning everything up a little by either erasing unwanted bits or adding additional linework just to emphasise on the subject and shapes within the drawing. I added leaves and other vegetation with some pre-made brushes that came with the program. The last step was to add a screentone of a clouded sky to add a bit of texture, shading and general interest to the whole piece, and voila! Done. This technique is super quick and efficient for creating backgrounds for comics of this style, though I still prefer when everything is painted by hand. The screentone has a very recognisable style to it and is quite often used in manga’s. One of the ones that come to mind for me is Berserk. I have always loved the artwork of that comic series; it’s the kind of art that you could stare at for hours on end and not get bored with. When looking at the artwork from the series, you can clearly see the technique of screentones are being used to create a lot of additional detail to each panel.

Here are some examples of some screentones:

In this example, it has been used for the background. A screentone with blobs lightly shaded has been added to almost create some sort of mist, changing the whole mood and feel of the panel very effectively.

Like mentioned before, in Berserk, the screentones are mostly used as an extra bit of atmospheric detail, rather than being used for any of the shading which is all hand drawn. In this example, it has been used for the lettering/type and again for the background. It creates a gritty and sort of dirty effect, emphasising how he is in a battlefield with monsters around him; definitely not a place you could call “clean”.

In this example, different kinds of sceentones have been used in each panel. In the panel to the left, the opaque stripes are a type of screentone very often used to indicate either speed, focal point or action of some kind. Not only that, but at the bottom of the panel a softer pattern of screentone has been used to create the look of dirt or sand, again with a gritty texture to emphasise on the fact that the character, Guts, is inferior at this moment.

In this super epic and intense illustration, you can again see the great use of screentones, most notably used for the background yet again. It really helps to create a strong feel to each illustration. The use of tone is especially important in manga or comics, since it so often is done in just black & white, so you have no use of colour; this is where screentones come in as a great tool to use for just this.

So, with all of this brainstorming and researching done, and by using the same technique as I did when doing the “test”, I began drawing. I used this picture which I recall taking somewhere on the border to Germany as the base image:

I chose this because it has that “street” vibe to it, which I thought could be cool with the whole theme of “gun man”. Very edgy, very edgy indeed.

This gif above shows loosely the process of the piece from start to finish. It was mostly just me playing around and figuring out all the tools of the program, but it was quite fun to put together.

With the background now complete, I put it into my rotoscope, went over each frame and painted the shape of myself in the animation white and was finally finished with the final rotoscope; being the third version or option that I did.

I am very happy with how it turned out in the end, and I have definitely learnt masses with this exercise of rotoscoping something that that I have filmed myself. I think if I were to further improve on this, I’d definitely consider animating the background itself (birds flying or leaves rustling), or maybe even try shading the subject somehow, taking inspiration from manga’s such as Berserk or any of Junji Ito’s work.

I decided to try out asking a few of my peers in the class what their opinion was on the final rotoscope. The feedback that I received was purely positive; the people I asked said they couldn't think of any particular way of improving the finished product. They said it both looked great as well as it answered what the task was questioning and challenging us to do.

To me, this really shows and proves that the work I have done here is successful work that I can be proud of and take what I have learnt through doing this task with me for the future, without doubting if what I have learnt is of quality.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

As a little extra note, here are the same frames (frame 23) in the three different versions:

4 notes · View notes

double-danganronpa-lost-faith · 5 years

Text

DDR:LF Progress Log

Hi everyone! Welcome to the first progress log.

It’s a post where I put all the things I’ve done for the fanganronpa so far that I haven’t posted anywhere; most of them are WIPs or Betas. It also works for me as a way to keep track of how far I’ve come.

Today’s post contains the following:

Character Bios (previously only available in the DR amino) and FAQ

4 WIPs of important CGs (well... more like 2)

3 Different types of Animation Tests

WIP/Beta of the GUI Design

Next objectives

If you’re interested in checking this post, keep reading it down below!

By the way, feel free to join the fangan’s discord server by going to this link https://discordapp.com/invite/aSd6PN4 ^^ with that being said, let’s begin the post~!

-------------------

Character Bios and FAQ

To start this blog AND this post on a right note, I’m finally posting on tumblr the character bios, which means you can now access to the information from each member of the cast of DDR:LF, which was previously only available in amino. You can find them in this post.

As for the other part, I wrote a FAQ with the main sort of questions there could be about the fangan. Feel free to give it a read here if you want to know about some basic stuff about the project, and if you still have doubts, please do send an ask! I’ll gladly answer it ^^

WIPs of CGs

You didn’t think that the only drawing I was working on were sprites, right?

In today’s post, here are some CGs WIPs that I didn’t get around to finish yet (since their priority is below the character sprites, but it’s a nice change instead of doing sprites 24/7).

First, the pre-trial CGs!

There are some expressions/positions that I might be willing to change, although that’ll come in later when I gotta sit down to finish these. But yeah, later. (Also, just to be clear, I drew these waaay back, so the designs might not match the current ones).

In a trial, depending the type of chapter, the 1st CG and 3rd one will switch places. The one that appears last will be the one that contains the protagonist whose POV we are witnessing.

Second, one of every prologue’s main CGs. “The killing game has begun!”

Looks of doubt and deceith are flying across the room! Who will make it through the end of the day? And who’ll be left behind~?

It might seem pretty basic without them being colored, but hopefully it’ll look better in the future!

Animation Tests

Man, this was a lot of fun to work on, and it was all worth it! I hope you all enjoy these as much as I did while trying to materialize these concepts!

#1 - Prologue Title Card

Every chapter of this story has a title card, just like the original danganronpa games. In the case of DDR:LF, this is more or less what each card will look like.

youtube

It’s kinda basic; elements being added to the screen here and there, as well as some silhouettes appearing.

What are these silhouettes, you might ask? It’s none other than the cast of the fangan, but it’s not just anybody who’s randomly picked. The silhouettes belong to the victims and the murderers of the current chapter, so for example, chapter 1 will have the silhouette of the 1st victim and the 1st murderer, but it’ll be modified enough for the silhouette to not be easily recognizable; nobody wants to get spoiled the deaths right at the start of the chapter, right?

Of course, the prologue is an exception... maybe.

A bit of the BGM was done by me, while some other elements of it were taken off from royalty free sound effects/melodies websites.

---------------

#2 - Pixel Execution

As you all know, there’s always a pixel animation that starts off an execution. I have that too, of course! and in order to avoid spoilers + show you what I was able to do, I put myself in the place of the culprit. (I swear I didn’t kill off anyone yet... only after the fangan has started I’ll be considered guilty).

youtube

The background music was also composed entirely by me, although in the future it might change- but I don’t really know for certain, so get used to this for now :)

---------------

#3 - Execution style test

I’ve recently downloaded the program Live2D, and what for? For executions, no less! After trying it for a while, I’ve concluded that it’d simplify my job a lot more than if I used sony vegas for animating the executions (not to mention it looks smoother with this new one).

youtube

For this test, I’ve used Seiji as my puppet. It might be simple, but it was to test out the limits of the program. It turned out really good imo! So I’ve decided to use Live2D to animate the executions (or at least, do most parts of them with it). I learnt some stuff while experimenting around with the program, so next time I’ll finish these sort of things even faster probably.

Also I put it on loop because a 2 second video is rather sad.

GUI Design

Now, I'll admit that I'm not the best at GUI design, but I tried my best to come up with my own design for the fanganronpa's interface, which I made based on a water-ish looking theme. The (not final) result of that is the picture below.

In case that you’re wondering, no, this isn’t any sort of canon conversation. It’s just the phrase I could come up with.

And yes, the background is from V3; I don't have any backgrounds at all for the project yet lol.

The sun and the fish on the top right corner will change depending on the time of day; but that's something that I'll keep to myself until the moment I start posting the story.

I have conflicted feelings with this GUI though, I don't know if I like it or not. It looks somewhat good but still off at the same time? Although it might just be me. If anyone has any feedback or suggestion for the GUI's design, the inbox is always open to receive such help!

So what's next?

Currently, I have loads of assignments at college, so it's kinda hard to make a balance between the project, social life and college work. However, the project is something that won’t stop.

The fangan has only one member, which is me of course; that means it’s going at a slow pace. I'm willing to make a recruitment for help, but that’ll be later once I have the basics to let someone else help me. If you’re willing to volunteer for this project, keep heads eyes up for the day I call out for help.

In the past, I tried to learn how to program with unity, but it’s hard to follow it up when the free tutorials are scattered here and there. When I have free time and everything art-related has been set up, I might try to pick it up again. I say might because I’m gonna start a tiny course for unreal engine at college. Maybe with the basics that they teach there, I’ll be able to do a better/quicker job than if I did it with unity (which I have 0 experience with). But the future is uncertain, so I’ll be the judge of that once I’m done with that course!

With that being said... as of now, the next objectives for the project (not ordered by priority) are the following:

Finishing Default Sprites.

I only have 7 default sprites done out of the 16 students, and I’m already working on the 8th. Half-way there?

Concept Art for each Room/Place.

While I have written down all the places in each dome, there are some that I need to draw the concept of the place, since the idea in my mind keeps changing them, I should settle them down.

Finishing Writing the Prologue and the Basics of Chapter 1.

I mean I already have like a half of these two things or more, but since I keep changing it, they never get any actual progress. Maybe I should learn to let it be as it is lol.

Creating 3D Assets.

Of course, I’ll make the 3D models for the rooms and props... well, I might do them; that is if I can’t find anyone that can make them. Pros of this is that I can do things exactly how I want them; cons are that it takes time and I’m not an expert in 3D modeling.

Trial GUI.

Class trials in danganronpa have a different GUI than the one used outside of them. We have a beta for the general GUI up there, now we need one for the class trial’s as well!

Concept Art for... a Trial Thing.

It’s no surprise that there are special things in fanganronpas, such as making changes to certain game mechanics, or creating completely new ones. The one I’m refering to in this case is a change to an already existing mechanic in the DR games. Can you guess which one it is~?

Splash Art.

During the first year of birthdays, I drew some sketches for the characters; those are the base for their future splash art.

---------------------

And last (and currently least important)

Recruiting Volunteers for the Project.

Obviously, I can’t do everything in this project by myself. In the future, once I have made a base for every ground of the project, I’ll recruit people that can work from there. Artists (GUI,CG and Sprite), Compositors, and 3D modelers are the ones that I’ll be looking for in this recruitment. In an even-later recruitment, I’ll make a casting call for voice actors as well. Please be patient though!

---------------------------------------------

I suppose that’s it for this very long post. It took more days than expected to put everything together, but at last I can release it now!

Now, June and July are pretty busy months at college, so unfortunatelly the progress will slow down a lot more than usual for the next few weeks. Thanks for sticking around this project despite the long road it has ahead! ^^

See you all in the next post! And if you read this entire thing, thank you for your interest in the fangan! <3

#progress log #double danganronpa lost faith #byu talks #wips #tests

8 notes · View notes

iv-kplpt · 7 years

Text

catch me like a cold I/II

i reworked and finished “fix me or conflict me”, so i also merged “catch me” to turn it into a 2-parter. rated m 15k words

She promised herself to not ever come back to Gotham. It's not like she had a grudge or anything – she just wasn't a fan of stepping into the same river twice. Sure, panta rhei and all that crap, but she read the news – even though she promised herself to not ever read Gotham Gazette. That city was unchanged in a good way and very changed in a bad way – Batman made its criminals hide underground like rats, most likely leading to truly astounding developments in the underworld. Also Penguin – the one person truly linking her to the city – was allegedly long gone. He never made it to jail or Arkham or wherever he should be; he just... Disappeared. Probably out of the city soon after. Gone with the wind.

Well, „linking” was a mighty big word for a one night stand. They chatted briefly; and then they fucked. It was a nice night, and that story guaranteed her free drinks in a certain bar somewhere around Winnipeg. Not every girl can say she once got bitten by a dangerous criminal.

And yet, Charlie returned – this time she wasn't looking for anything, as she already found what she was looking for. Her long, global adventure was over – it was time to take a breather, maybe stay in one place for longer than a week. Take some pictures. Make some friends. Evie – her bartender friend from Canada – got her in touch with her relative, a young woman around Charlie's age, named Misty – and Charlie was on her way to her first meeting with Misty.

They decided to meet in a well-hidden, high class bar Charlie visited on her previous visit. That's where she met the Penguin, back when he was still Oswald – he saved her from a very determined bouncer, who was presumably going to just straight up murder her. As you do in Gotham.

„I'll get you in.”, Misty assured her during their brief call, laughing quietly. „I have a free pass there.”

Paul – the bouncer – was nowhere to be seen, probably due to everything that went down in Gotham since she left. A crime boss was murdered, and Charlie could only guess that Paul was working for him. The interior design changed as well – the place got a bit darker and more crowded, looking more like a club than a luxurious restaurant it used to resemble.

Misty was waiting for her outside. She was short and plump and her pastel yellow dress beautifully contrasted with her dark skin. She quickly eyed Charlie up and down; and just before she got self-conscious about it nodded with approval.

„Lookin' good.”, she said, shaking Charlie's hand. „Black suits you.”

„Almost all my clothes are black.”, she admitted, for now keeping to herself why is that. „Nice to meet you.”

„I'm glad aunt Evie hooked us up. I could use a new face in my social circle.”

They went inside, leaving their jackets in a – newly added – cloakroom. There was a young boy behind the counter; he greeted Misty by her name.

„Are you a regular here?”, Charlie asked curiously, feeling slightly amused.

„Something like that, yeah.”, Misty almost purred in response, winking at her.

As soon as they sat down the bartender instantly focused on them, much to the displeasure of few other people waiting to get their drinks.

„Good evening, Jacques.”, Misty said without looking up from her phone. „Please, meet Charlie. Charlie, this is Jacques, the best bartender in Gotham.”

„Go big or go home? Love the attitude of whoever's running this place right now.”

Misty snorted.

„That's probably his motto. He should get a tattoo.”

„I already like that guy.”

They got their drinks – colorful and probably alcoholic enough to break even the most hardened veteran – and sat in silence for about a minute. Charlie kept glancing at Misty, with each second seeing more and more resemblance to Evie.

„So, Charlie.”, Misty said finally, setting her glass down. „How do you know my aunt?”

„Oh, I once spent a night in her bar.”, Charlie replied, toying with the fabric of her dress. „And we kind of clicked. She's a decent person.”

„See, her messages were infuriatingly vague.”, Misty sighed, playing with her phone. „She only really said a friend of hers is heading to Gotham and might need a guide. Is that the case?”

„Oh, absolutely. Show me all the best places. And all the best people.”

„Well, I can get you an interview with Bruce Wayne, if that's what you're after.”, Misty said, smirking. „Or our mayor. Unfortunately our crime boss is dead, so unless you're, like, a medium...”

„I'm not into crime. Well... Not into taking part in it.”, she corrected herself. „There is something in bad boys that just draws me in, but I heard Falcone was as attractive as a mashed potato. So I'll pass.”

„He was an ugly motherfucker, both outside and inside, that is true. But seriously, if you're looking for a hookup...”

Charlie laughed, covering her mouth with her hand and shook her head.

„I really like the way you think, Misty.”, she finally said, smiling. „But first I want to get to know this city in general. Last time I... Didn't really do a lot of sightseeing. And who knows? Maybe this time I'll settle down.”

„You want to settle down in Gotham?”, Misty asked, her entire face expressing full skepticism. „Why?”

„I'm an adventurous type. Gotham seems like a right place for me.”

„Honey, Gotham isn't right for anyone, maybe except Batman and our other masked freaks.”

„Maybe I want to join the ranks of those masked freaks you mentioned. Give me a chance, Misty.”

„My aunt said you travelled all around the world. That you visited so many places.”

„But only in Gotham I found myself a lover who instantly figured out how I like it.”, she finally admitted, both to Misty and to herself. „Look, during my journey I slept with a lot of people – but only this one dude was truly memorable.”

„And that's why you're back? Because you want to find him again?”, Misty asked, leaning in, eyes burning with curiosity. Charlie snorted and shook her head.

„Hell no! I just take it as a good sign. A sign of this city being compatible with me.”

„Well, nothing like a good old over-interpretation. But sure. Have it your way.”

Misty picked her glass up again and winked at Charlie.

„I sure as hell am not going to try to change your mind. Like I said – I don't mind some new company.”

„Well, you have to introduce me to your friends some day.”

„Miss Haze...”, Jacques interrupted them quietly, looking at Misty. Charlie raised her eyebrow, turning her head.

„Haze? You're actually called Misty Haze?”

„Yeah, well, fuck my parents.”, she replied nonchalantly, turning her attention to the bartender. „What is it?”

„The boss wants to speak with you.”

„Ugh.”, Misty said with annoyance. „Which one?”

Instead of replying, Jacques simply looked up at the ceiling. That visibly loosened Misty up; she finished her drink and got up, turning around to face the curious Charlie.

„Is the owner a friend of yours?”

„You could say that. Jacques, be a darling, make sure no one tries anything stupid.”

She left through a door behind the bar. Before it closed, Charlie spotted a man waiting in the corridor – he was tall, buff and visibly stressed. He said something to Misty, and his body language practically screamed „I'm so sorry”.

„Who owns this place?”, she asked the bartender who didn't even look at her.

„Salvatore Maroni.”, he replied indifferently. „One of Gotham's many businessmen.”

„Really? Never heard of him. Does he also run this place?”

„And why do you ask?”, he replied surprisingly sharply, still only looking at his palms. „You can just google this stuff.”

„Aw, I was just trying to make a polite conversation.”, she said mockingly and pushed her glass towards him. „Can you keep an eye for my glass and my seat? I need to fix my makeup.”

„Restroom's on the right from where you're sitting.”

Still without looking up he took her glass and put it under the counter, away from any wayward pills.

The bathroom was spacious, somehow almost empty and brightly lit. She set her purse down near the sink and looked at her reflection; her lipstick was slightly smudged and her eyeliner was just a bit uneven. It wasn't anything big, but she had a gut feeling it might be best for her to be absent for the next few minutes. Her instincts usually didn't fail her – and this time wasn't an exception. If she stayed, she would rob him of his dramatic entrance.

When she left the bathroom – her lips dark red, her eyeliner as pointy as her stilettos, her auburn locks brushed to one side, exposing her neck – she instantly knew something is... Well, not wrong. But not right either.

Misty's seat was no longer vacant; a man was sitting there, facing away from Jacques, keeping one hand in a pocket. He was smoking – she instantly remembered the „no smoking inside” sign she saw on her way in.

He had a sharp profile, head tilted backwards and eyes half closed; even in the dim light she could see his stubble.

He looked beautiful; almost as beautiful as when she first saw him months earlier, when he got her out of an ugly situation in the same bar. If it wasn't for her already knowing who he is she'd probably feel intrigued; and she could only imagine what she'd feel if she still was a hormonal teenager.

Charlie sat back down and glanced at him; he remained mostly still, only moving to take a drag on a cigarette.

Much to her amusement, she realized the music had changed; now „A Girl Like You” was playing in the background. She was sure it's somehow his doing.

„You're not supposed to smoke here.”, she said without looking at him; but she knew he's listening.

He remained silent for a moment, and finally turned around, putting the cigarette out by pressing it to the counter, much to the bartender's visible distress.

„Better now?”, he asked, staring at her profile; she nodded and – as she saw out of the corner of her eye – he smiled.

„Wasn't expecting to see you.”

„Yeah? And why's that?”, he asked, still staring.

„Heard you left the city.”

„Who told you that?”

„Common sense.”

„Oh, now that's a new.”, he said with a smile that only barely reached his eyes. „Didn't suspect you of having one in the first place.”

Now that she was sitting closer she could see how he'd changed during the past few months; he had some new scars and what looked like permanent dark circles under his eyes, but other than that it was still the same Oz she slept with.

Oh, also he ditched his old clothes in favor of a suit. It looked weird with his scars and the inelegant haircut, but he made it work. Or maybe it was just her having a thing for men in suits.

„Buy me a drink?”, she asked flirtatiously. „Friend?”

„Why are you back, Charlie?”, he asked, ignoring her request.

„Back in Gotham or back in this bar?”

„Both.”

„Well, maybe the answer to both is that I missed you.”

His shocked expression made her laugh out involuntarily; she turned her eyes away, almost not noticing the sudden glimpse of disappointment in his bright eyes.

„That was mostly a joke... But it's still good to see you.”, she added eventually. He sighed.

„We should talk in private.”, he finally said, and it sounded like it takes him a lot of effort to actually say it out loud, with all that hesitation and what sounded like nervousness hidden behind the smooth façade. „When are you leaving?”

„Not anytime soon. I'm considering a... Longer stay.”

Of course she did, now that she knew he's still in town and still obviously open. She still remembered the sight of him with her blood on his lips, and the surprisingly soft way he asked her if she's okay – but she'd rather die than admit it.

His face visibly lightened up. Why was he so glad to hear it? Did he want something from her? Was he really that lonely?

„Glad to hear it.”, he informed her, as if she didn't notice it. „Where are you staying?”

„Nowhere you can show up out of blue, considering you're a wanted criminal.”

It came out much harsher than she meant to. He winced.

„Are you trying to tell me to piss off?”

„No, I'm trying to tell you I don't want you to end up in jail.”, she explained. „Why are you so touchy, Oz?”

Before he answered, Misty returned from her mysterious meeting. She stood behind Oswald with her arms crossed, looking very displeased.

„What the fuck are you doing here?”, she asked sharply. „This is my seat.”

„Oh, relax, Misty.”, he said, suddenly back to his old attitude she remembered from their previous encounter; a bit cheeky, a bit full of himself, treating the other person's annoyance as a sign of victory. „I was just making sure no one's trying anything funny with your friend! I was just being a gentleman.”

„Just... Get out of my sight.”, she sighed heavily.

Very slowly, Oswald got up and stretched out, staring Misty down. Eventually he shot her a mocking smile and stepped aside.

„There. All yours again. Happy now?”

„Go upstairs, he wants to talk to you.”

His mocking smile quickly perished, as he turned around. Right as he was passing next to her, Charlie reached out and put her hand on his shoulder.

„You still didn't buy me a drink.”

„Next time I see you I'll buy you two.”, he promised, glancing at her for a moment. „Deal?”

„Deal.”

She let him go and he left through the door hidden behind the bar. Misty sighed and shook his head.

„I'll take it as a sign you two already met.”

„Oh, we did. Hey, Jacques, can I get a martini?”

Misty was visibly bothered by something and Charlie was starting to slowly piece together the bigger picture. The very presence of Oswald in this very bar raised some interesting questions about what exactly happened during the past few months and about who's currently running the show.

„Misty...”

She didn't like the sudden air of uneasiness between them. This tension was ruining a perfectly nice evening; she never expected mafia connections to suddenly enter the picture.

„Maroni is interested in you.”, Misty finally blurted out, before Charlie said anything else. „He has eyes all over the country and he knows about your little fortune. He's after your money.”

„Am I even supposed to know about this?”

„He'll reach out sooner or later. You know – a business proposal. Nothing shady, after all, Salvatore is a businessman.”

„Two questions.”

„Shoot.”

„Am I going to become a local celebrity?”

„Well, Maroni's a well-respected member of society, and a well known one... So probably yes. Maybe hire a bodyguard or two.”

„Noted. Why was Cobblepot here?”

„To be honest, I was expecting it to be number one.”, Misty said with a smirk, taking a sip from a newly refilled glass Jacques quietly set down in front of her. „You two seem close.”

„Birds of a feather.”, she replied simply. „Now riddle me this: what was this wanted criminal doing in a bar owned by a respected member of Gotham's high society? And why didn't anyone call the cops?”

„Take a look around. Every person here? They never saw him. Why would they call the police if nothing suspicious is going on?”

„Does he come here often?”

„He practically lives upstairs. Why?”

„Well, he promised me a drink and I'm going to get it even if it means breaking into his hideout in the middle of the night.”, she said with a faint smile.

Misty laughed out in response and put her hand on Charlie's knee.

„You're going to fit right in. Gotham likes people who knows what they want.”

„Even if it's just a drink?”

„Even if it's just a drink.”

***

It turned out that despite her harsh words, Misty is actually quite fond of Oswald – it took her a few shots to admit it, but eventually she stated they're actually good friends. Charlie wasn't convinced this is completely true – she saw a lot of friendships based on fake disdain. Hell, she actually had some friendships based on fake disdain.

However what interested – and bothered – her the most most the fact mysterious Maroni knew not only about her existence, but also about her presence in Gotham. She tried to keep last two years of her life under the wraps, away from prying eyes; nobody needed to know about her bankruptcy and the drastic measures she took to recover from it. Naturally, she couldn't hide everything – australian press quickly covered the local part of her story, even though she firmly refused any comments. She asked her old friends – even though she wasn't sure if they even care about her anymore – to do the same, and they gladly complied. She suspected they simply want her out of their lives and social circles; nobody wants to be friends with a blood-soaked bankrupt socialite who ultimately destroyed their family's good name.

Well, that was in the past. She had her money back, and once again she could afford to stay at a luxurious hotel without having to resort to cheap tricks.

Her suite was spacious, had the most comfortable bed she ever slept in, state-of-the-art jacuzzi, tasteful decorations and felt horribly, depressingly empty and quiet. She was so used to cheap motels with paper-thin walls and campings and spending nights in company of other people that the sudden return to conditions she spent the majority of her life in felt just wrong. She felt like an intruder in her own damn hotel room; and knowing there will be nobody at her side once she wakes up made it hard to fall asleep in the first place.

She dreamed of cigarette smoke, rustling sheets and bright grey eyes filled with a strange – yet wonderful – mix of concern and almost blind amazement.

***

Charlie's first week back in Gotham was as uneventful as it gets. Misty and her wife – very tall, elegant, bright-eyed secretary named Esme – showed her around, introducing her to the most important places; the hottest clubs, restaurants, stores and landmarks commonly used as meeting spots. She saw – from a distance, naturally – the legendary Wayne Manor and the infamous golden plaque no one ever dared to steal. She also caught up with the news – no juicy detail was left undescribed.

Oh, she heard it all. Misty – a reporter for the Gotham Gazette – compiled a list of the most essential articles for her; so she heard it all. How Bruce Wayne's name was dragged through mud, how Carmine Falcone was assassinated by a drugged cop, how an abandoned child resurfaced after years, only to fall from grace, hitting the ground harder than Lucifer when he fell – twice. Oh, during her absence Gotham was in turmoil and Oswald Cobblepot had been very busy. For a short time he managed to seize the seat of CEO of Wayne Enterprise, along with the majority of the brand's financial assets; he was also involved in Lady Arkham's bloody revolution and was responsible for killing mayor Hill on live television.

If she didn't know him – even though it was brief and didn't involve a lot of talking – she'd probably think someone's making all this stuff up; but she saw the footage. She read the articles, saw the pictures. For a while Oswald was literally hellbent on getting his revenge – and she couldn't make herself feel disgusted. Part of her – a big part of her, actually, the one that made her go on a two years long hunting trip – understood. Hell, maybe even sympathized.

When she told Misty about it, her new friend only shrugged.

„You know, you're not the only one. Many people say that's not how it should go.”

„Really? What do people think?”

„Well, quite a lot of people believe things would go down differently if Cobblepot wasn't left all alone as a kid. That doesn't excuse his dealings with Lady Arkham, but does explain a lot.”

Charlie nodded and Misty shot her a quick grin.

„Some kids from Europe tried to get money for him on kickstarter, you know? They called it „The Cobblepot Therapy Fund”. They also wrote a lot of articles about him. I think someone actually wrote a Cobblepot case study as their PhD thesis. They actually interviewed him – and now our police is trying to contact them day and night, demanding to know how they managed to contact him in the first place.”

„Seriously? Cobblepot gave an interview while in hiding?”

„Of course he did. But do you want to know the worst part?”

„You bet.”

„He reached out to them first, after their facebook post went viral. Fuck, he actually had a skype convo with them. All while in hiding.”

„I imagine it costs Maroni a lot to keep him hidden.”, Charlie said cautiously. They were in her hotel apartment, with nobody else around; they could talk freely. „Why is he doing that?”

„You'll have to ask him yourself. Remember how I said he's going to reach out to you?”

Of course she remembered, how could she not? It's hard to forget being informed that a pillar of community – who may or may not be a new local crime boss, an usurper to the vacant Falcone throne – is openly going after her fortune.

Well, at least he was being honest. That was definitely a plus.

„He invited me to dinner. And my usual plus one can't make it today, so I figure this might be a good occasion to formally introduce you. What do you think?”

Charlie shrugged, feeling indecisive. This definitely sounded like the best way to get to know Maroni and form some sort of opinion on him - because googling him didn't really help. According to search results, Salvatore Maroni had a stellar reputation, almost rivaling that of Bruce Wayne's before his family history was leaked to the press. His private life remained a mystery, but no one had any doubts about him not having any ties to Gotham's crime; his father was allegedly involved in some shady stuff during the prohibition, but it was all flimsy allegations with no concrete proof to back them. Maroni was a regular donor to almost every of Gotham's charities and a frequent guest at charity fundraisers; everyone loved him and no one was able to tell what is he like behind the closed doors. And yet this – generally well-respected – Basset Hound-looking gentleman not only somehow became the new owner of a previously mafia-ridden Peperoncino, but was also harboring a wanted criminal under his roof. Those two things were not adding up.

„I'll bite.”, she said eventually. „Who else's on the guest list?”

„Oh, it's a private thing. Close friends and associates only – so I'm guessing Jonathan Crane and Ozzie.”

„Are you implying Maroni has Crane in his pocket? THE Jonathan Crane?”

She knew Crane – he was an academic celebrity. She read his books; he also had a series of guest lectures at her college. She remembered him as a charming, disarmingly friendly and contagiously enthusiastic individual.

„Oh, he's a close friend of Sal. Sal funds his research and in return Crane offers his services as a discreet, of-the-books medical professional.”

Misty paused for a second and took a sip of her freshly squeezed orange juice.

„He patched Cobblepot up after his little tête-à-tête with Batman. What do you think about his work?”

„In general, or about his work on Oswald's broken bones? Because I only noticed some new scars on his face.”

„That's the result of him having unlimited access to Maroni's bank accounts... And soon also to yours, I presume.”, she added, winking at Charlie. „So, are you coming?”

„I could use some influential friends.”, she agreed, finishing her own drink. „Count me in. Where and when?”

„At Peperoncino, where else? It's the unofficial lair of Salvatore's private life. Only his friends can get in during the VIP hours.”

„Oh, am I his friend already?”

„You're a person of interest for sure. But... Sal honors the old „friend of my friend is also my friend” rule. And we seem to be getting along just fine. Same goes for you and Oswald.”

„Wasn't the saying about enemies though?” she asked, ignoring the last remark which left her with a bizarre, stinging feeling. During the last week she – for better or worse – avoided thinking about Oswald. She wasn't sure why – usually she had no problem thinking about her conquests. But this time... This time she just couldn't focus.

„It was, but Salvatore has no enemies. Let's keep it that way, for both his and Oswald's sake.”, Misty said with a smirk, glancing at Charlie who sighed with annoyance and rubbed her forehead.

„Are you trying to squeeze a story out of me?”, she finally asked. „Come on, miss reporter, be honest. What do you want to hear?”

„Oh, I'm just curious. How come you know Oswald? He claims he was laying pretty low before all that revolution crap. Friend of a friend?”

„Why do you care?”

„As you probably already figured out, I'm on Sal's payroll. Well, unofficially – it's not an actual payroll. I do some favors for him and in return... He does some favors for me. I'm helping him with keeping Cobblepot safe. And I just want to know if you can be trusted.”

Misty paused and Charlie shrugged.

„I didn't tell anyone during the last week. I think that's your answer.”

„But why?”

„And why is Salvatore helping him?”

„He has his reasons.”

„And so do I. But I can tell you how we met. I have to warn you though – it's pretty... Anticlimactic. It did win me your aunt's eternal friendship though.”

„Well, just tell me.”

„He... Helped me, when I was visiting Gotham for the first time. See, back then Falcone was still the owner of Peperoncino and I wasn't a friend of a friend. Oswald swooped in, claimed I'm his friend and should be there and then... We got to know each other.”

„Oh, so you're the mysterious C. I should have guessed. Your shade of lipstick-”

„-matches the one on the card.”, Charlie finished, shaking her head. So, Oswald did keep the short letter she left next to him when she was sneaking out in the morning. She signed it as C and by pressing her red lips to the piece of paper; it was something she'd done a lot of times before. Never thought it will be one day used to identify her. „Does he always keep mementos of his... Adventures?”

„Usually he's the one to sneak out in the morning. Or so I heard. Never had the doubtful pleasure of sleeping with him.”

Misty shuddered and Charlie smirked. Right. Friends.

„I'd say... Nine stars out of ten.”

„Why not ten? What did he fuck up this time?”

„I can't blame him for not knowing about something I didn't tell him about.”, she said, looking for the right words; she was not in a mood to get into the detailed descriptions of her preferences. „But he almost figured it out.”

„He's dumb.”, Misty said in response. „Bad at figuring stuff out.”

The faint resemblance of laughter in her voice told Charlie she's not being entirely serious.

Misty got up, setting her – now empty – glass down on the nearby table.

„I have to go. I'll pick you up around seven. Don't be too fancy, it's still a friendly gathering, not an audience with the queen. But also not too casual – Sal's like that.”

***

Misty's vague description of Sal's preferred dress code left Charlie with not a lot of options – her old wardrobe was gone and she was still in process of getting it back. Luckily she had a wide collection of assorted black clothes; like a simple, short-sleeved rockabilly-inspired dress, a satin choker decorated with a tiny white bow and her favourite pumps. It felt good to be able to regularly wear heels again – she had nothing against sneakers, trainers and sturdy boots, but heels felt like a state of grace. Also she liked to feel tall.

She was a bit surprised to discover the perspective of spending evening in Oswald's company was actually making her a bit nervous. She wasn't scared of him – why would she? Compared to the way he was during Lady Arkham's failed revolution, he seemed to have calmed down; but he also already had an impression of her. She wondered if she can live up to it. She also wondered if he knows – if Misty, who obviously knew, told him.

Charlie smirked to herself, fixing her hair in front of a mirror. „Birds of a feather”, she told Misty back during their first evening out – and it wasn't that far off. Similarities were there. She wondered if the sympathy she feels for his – mostly failed – cause will turn out to be mutual. She hoped so.

Her phone buzzed and she picked up, still gazing at her reflection. Hair... Done. Makeup... Good. She made a mental note of ordering new lipstick – at this rate she was going to run out of it soon.

„Yes?”

„I'm in the hall and the receptionist refuses to let me in.”, she heard Misty, talking with voice filled with thinly veiled annoyance. „Are you ready?”

„I'll be down there in a minute.”

Misty hung up and Charlie sighed quietly. Breathe in, breathe out. She picked up her – black – purse and left the apartment.

Misty was waiting in the hall. As soon as she saw her she pointed to her and the receptionist looked at her, visibly tired.

„I'm sorry, miss.”, the man said, shaking his head. „But I can't just let random strangers in. The safety of our guests-”

„Let her in next time.”, Charlie interrupted him. „Write it down – miss Schiller-Aberdeen requests miss Haze to be let in.”

They left the building. It was a chilly evening, and Charlie regretted not taking her jacket with her – but she only had her old, worn out leather jacket, because she kept putting buying something nicer off. She quickly got goosebumps and was very glad Misty parked her car nearby.

„How's your wife?”, Charlie asked, not wanting to spend the ride in silence. Misty smiled, like she always did when talking about Esme. She spent few afternoons with both of them; and they were so clearly in love. Charlie saw it all – the hopefully lovestruck gazes, the tender touches, the pet names. The harmony, how they seemed to complete each other perfectly. She almost felt jealous when looking at them – it's been a long while since she felt genuinely loved and cared about. There was a single exception; a particular man, who asked her if she's okay in that soft, concerned voice while looking at her attentively.

„She has lots of paperwork to do.”, Misty said, bringing Charlie back to Earth. „And has a meeting with Maroni's main IT guy. He says he found something important.”

„Is Esme on Maroni's... Favor-roll as well?”

„Oh, no, no, it's nothing like that. She actually works for him. Someone has to organize his schedule... And someone handed him the keys to the legally impeccable parts of the Falcone empire. That was all her doing.”

„Are you saying your wife worked for Carmine Falcone?!”

„For years. He trusted her, so she had free access to his documents. And then he died and Esme jumped the ship. Smart girl.”, Misty added fondly. „Sal was doing pretty well even before that, but he didn't say no when she offered him her help. And now she helps him manage all this stuff.”

„Sounds like she runs the town.”

„Someone has to, considering we still don't have a mayor. Nobody wants to be one, after what happened to the last two.”

„From what I heard, Hill had it long coming.”

Misty laughed in response and shook her head, making her long earrings dangle.

„Should've known you're a Penguin apologist.”

They parked one street away from Peperoncino and walked rest of the way. The place was nearly empty; Charlie spotted Jacques tending to the bar, looking as dissatisfied with his life as he did when she first met him.

„Why does Jacques always look so... Pissed off?”, Charlie asked, following Misty to the room at the back. Peperoncino seemed to be a lot bigger inside, than on the outside.

„Oswald kicked him out of his living quarters and to the guest room.”, Misty replied. „He even took his office from him.”

„That's an asshole thing to do.”

„You just summed up everything Oswald had ever done.”

Finally they reached their destination and Misty opened the door, letting her in – or rather out, considering they reached a well-hidden, small patio. First thing she noticed was an obligatory pond with an equally obligatory small fountain; she could also see marble columns and floor tiles.

Two men were sitting at the nearby table, talking about something quietly. Jonathan Crane and Oswald Cobblepot – with Maroni nowhere to be seen.

Crane and Oswald paused their conversation when they realized they're not alone. They turned their heads to look at Charlie and Misty and Charlie could see Oswald's eyes widening in genuine surprise.

„Good evening, gentlemen.”, Misty said briskly, walking up to them; Charlie followed quietly and both men got up.

„Good evening indeed, Haze.”, Crane said cheerfully and briefly hugged Misty. He then turned his attention to Charlie. „And who might your lovely companion be?”

„Charlie.”, she said in response. „Charlie Schiller-Aberdeen.”

Crane's eyes lit up behind his glasses. He took her hand and shook it enthusiastically.

„I remember now!”, he exclaimed. „Harvard University guest lectures attendance list, am I right?”

„Y-you're right.”, she stuttered out, shocked he remembers. Crane nodded, visibly satisfied.

„I always remember people from my lectures. Every single one of them.”, he said, still shaking her hand.

„Jon, you're going to tear her arm off.”, Oswald said from behind Crane's back. Jonathan – visibly flustered – let go and stepped aside, apologizing under his breath.

„Hello, Oswald.”, she said, smiling lightly.

He took her hand and brushed it lightly with his lips, still looking at her with squinted eyes. „Well, this evening just got a lot better.” he eventually said. „Pretty lovely even.”

She noticed dark circles under his eyes. Had he been sleeping at all? It looked like the answer is „no”.

„You're staring.”, she finally said and he smirked in response, not looking away.

„Do you want me to stop?”

„Not really, no. I don't mind having your eyes on me.”, she said without thinking

Somewhere in the background Misty groaned with disgust.

„Glad to hear it.”, he assured her and she smiled. „Let's sit down.”

He pulled out a chair for her and – as he was sliding it back – leaned down and brushed her cheek with his chin, whispering into her ear.

„I have to admit, I love your color scheme tonight.”

He then sat down on the other side of the table and put his hands on the table, fingers laced together, still smirking obnoxiously; she felt a sudden urge to lean forward and kiss him. Would he even mind? Who knows.

„Sal's running late.”, Misty said and sat down next to her, glancing at her phone. „He'll be here in about half an hour.”

„How rude.”, Oswald replied, not looking at Misty and shaking his head with disapproval. „How terribly rude.”

„What, are you going to shoot him for it?”, Misty asked impassively and Oswald only winked in response.

Misty turned her attention to Crane, again leaving Charlie and Penguin to their own devices.

„So, Charlie... Where have you been?”

„Oh, here and there.”, she replied carefully. „I've been... Doing stuff.”

She quickly glanced at Misty and Crane, who were talking – or rather Crane was doing the talking and Misty was doing the listening – and clearly not listening, but she still didn't want to talk about her past endeavours while being within their earshot.

Truth to be told, she wasn't entirely sure if she wants to talk about them at all.

Oswald got the hint.

„You like leaving people unsatisfied, don't you, Charlie?”, he asked her quietly and winked at her seeing her surprised expression. „Are you sure you're not going to sneak out again?”

His voice was oddly tense, despite how relaxed he seemed to bit. It was concerning – and she didn't like the sudden change of direction in this conversation. Oh, she knew the topic of their night together is an elephant in the room and was going to be addressed sooner or later – but she'd really prefer the „later” option.

„Look, Oswald, what happened last time...”

„Is not going to happen again?”, he interrupted her, wincing slightly. „But what if I'm just glad to see you again, no strings attached?”

„There will be a string attached to your neck if you won't let me finish, you know. Or my hands.”

„Love where this is going.”, he said playfully and raised his hands. „Fine, I'll be quiet. Quite like a strangled penguin.”

But she didn't have a chance to finish her sentence, as Salvatore Maroni finally entered the pictured, apologizing for being late.

He was a bit taller than her and a bit shorter than Oswald, very round and as Basset Hound-looking as the pictures on the internet made him look. His thin, black hair were slicked back and his hands were surprisingly small.

He greeted Misty and Crane, promptly ignoring Oswald – who seemed to be ignoring him as well – and turned his attention to Charlie.

„And you must be young lady Spencer Schiller-Aberdeen.”, he said; his voice was low, silky and a bit breathy.

„Pleased to meet you.”

„I'm no longer a Spencer, mister Maroni.”, she corrected him as he was brushing her hand with his unpleasantly moist lips.

„Ah, that's true, my apologies.”, he said, visibly disconcerted. „I've read the news... Terrible what happened, truly terrible. Deepest condolences.”

Of course he knew, she thought, looking into his dark eyes. He did his homework on me.

„Anyone cares to explain?”, Oswald asked, raising his eyebrows. Salvatore glanced at him and nodded thoughtfully.

„Her husband perished in a terrible, terrible accident.”, Maroni said quietly. „Such a tragedy. Please-”, he added, once again looking at her „-call me Sal. Can I call you Charlotte? Your name's a real mouthful.”

She smiled and nodded politely, seeing Oswald staring her down out of the corner of her eye. Well, now he knew. She didn't like the way he found out – she didn't like the way Maroni just exposed her, like she was already owing him something and couldn't protest.

Salvatore turned his attention to Misty and Oswald used the occasion to reach out and put his hand on hers.

„You're married?”, he asked, visibly moved. „Charlie...”

„Can we talk about it later?”, she whispered back, avoiding his eyes. Why did it matter to him anyway? „It doesn't matter now.”

„It does to me!”, he uttered, still agitated. „But fine. We can talk about it later.”

By the time dinner was served, she completely lost both appetite and the need for company. She remained charming – all smiles and small jokes – and attentive, but she was not at all enjoying the evening. Oswald was still glancing at her from time to time and it was unnerving – his smile and that mischievous spark in his eye were gone, replaced with a puzzling, intense gaze that felt like he's trying to get past her physical body and take a look at her soul instead.

Which wasn't in a good shape. What could be a pleasant evening, ended up apparently ruining her chances at getting into Oz's bed again. Now that she saw him in a good mood again – as opposed to the brooding, tense mess he was one week earlier – she decided she wouldn't mind his occasional company. He was still her type, and he was clearly still interested, with all that smirking and gazing; but that seemed to be gone with the wind the moment he found out about her past. For some reason it hurt more than she expected – wouldn't be the first time someone lost interest at some point, but with Oswald it felt different. It felt worse. Almost like a real rejection.

„Charlie, are you alright? You look pale.”, she heard Misty ask and in return smiled and nodded.

„I think I need to excuse myself for a minute.”, she said and got up.

Oswald got up as well.

„I'll show you the way. This place's a bloody maze!”, he said with a forced smile. „Follow me.”

As soon as they were inside the building and the doors closed behind them, he turned around to face her. She almost walked into him; they were standing millimeters apart and the silence was only disrupted by their breaths.

„What?”, she finally asked, crossing her arms. He sighed and stepped back a bit, sitting on the nearby windowsill. He patted it with his hand and she hesitantly sat next to him, folding her hands on her lap and staring at her nails.

„I don't like getting tangled up with married folks, you know.”, he finally said. „Too much of a hassle, every single time. Not worth it.”

„Well, I'm not married anymore, as you probably heard.”, she countered, still asking herself why he cares so much about her marital status. „I'm a widow.”

„But you weren't always a widow. Were you still married back then? Did you... Cheat on someone with me?”

„No.”, she said after a long pause. „I didn't cheat on anybody. I don't cheat.”

„I take it was not a happy relationship then.”

„Can I ask you something?”

„Sure, go ahead.”

„Why do you care so much about me being married? It's just a word. He's not going to come after you.”

„Oh, there's a lot you don't know about me, Charlie.”

„Of course I don't know much about you, dumbass!”, she bridled at him, still staring at her hands. „Last time we skipped the talking.”

„Seems like a good occasion to make up for it. Seems like we both could use a friendly face.”

„I have no idea how to act around you.”, she finally admitted. „Usually once I hook up with someone I just leave and don't come back. I think... I don't remember how it feels to not travel.”

„Lord, me too. Being stuck here – in this one fucking building – it feels like I'm losing my bloody mind. And there's no way to let off some of this steam.”

„Oh, I can think of a way or two...”, she said, feeling bolder than few minutes ago.

He laughed in response and glanced at her briefly; he then reached out and touched the bow on her choker with his fingers. They were exactly as scarred and slender as in her memory.

„So, what's up with the color scheme? Are you trying to pander to me?”

„Maybe so. Is it working?”, she asked; instead of responding, he leaned in and kissed her.

She put her arms around his neck and closed her eyes. His narrow lips felt more familiar, than she expected, and so did his hand on her back, pulling her closer.

Eventually he stopped and moved back a bit; still with his hand on her back she opened her eyes and smiled.

„Does that answer your question?”, he asked with a smirk. „You look lovely tonight. And we should probably get back before Sal decides it's time for a search party.”

„I still need to go to the bathroom through. You never showed me the way. Oh, and Oswald?”

„Yes?” he asked; in the meantime he got up and he was standing with his back to her, ready to lead her to the bathroom.

„You should probably wipe your face. I left some of my lipstick here and there.”

„It seems like covering me in red is your thing. Did it leave a scar?”

„Did what leave a scar?”, she asked before remembering. „Oh. That. No, you didn't bite me that hard.”

„How comes Maroni is so perfectly fine with me knowing about you?”, she asked on their way back to the patio. „Aren't you his dirty little secret?”

„I asked him to trust me on this one. And he did. I said you're trustworthy. Remember how I showed you my mask, back before anyone I knew Penguin and Oswald are one and the same? You didn't rat me out... And I'm grateful.”, he added. „That would really mess my grand plans up.”

The fact he considered her trustworthy left her with butterflies in her stomach. Or maybe she was getting hungry again.

„Yes, your plans. I heard what happened. What you tried to accomplish.”

„Oh? And what do you think?”

„Well, it might not mean much coming from a spoiled member of the social elite, but... It wasn't an entirely terrible cause.”

„I'm having a hard time believing you have any money to your name, Charlie.”

„Is that because I keep trying to get free drinks from you?”

„Precisely.”

She returned to the table in a much better mood. Not everything was lost – Oswald's deep interest in her marital status was still questionable at best and really concerning at worst, but she wasn't looking for anything deep anyway. Just someone to talk to. Just someone to take her breath away every now and then. Just someone to buy her a drink from time to time. Sure, Oswald Cobblepot wasn't exactly what she'd call „the right kind of friend” - but maybe the universe was trying to tell her to give up on right people and instead mingle with all the wrong ones.

Like Salvatore Maroni, for example. Their first meeting wasn't great – she didn't like him. She didn't trust him. Misty assured her time and time again that Sal's a wonderful, trustworthy person – but for Charlie he just seemed like a puppetmaster, treating others less like people and more like one-dimensional pawns. She didn't like people exposing her secrets – she'd rather do it on her own, in the right time.

At least he didn't get into details. That was a plus – even though she was sure he knows everything. He seemed to know a lot about her – everything she didn't want other people to know, everything that could be used to stop her attempts at building a new life, at building something new under the name Schiller-Aberdeen, far away from New York, far away from Perth, far away from a man named Harold Spencer.

Harry... The mere thought of him sent a sudden sting of pain through her heart. Charlie liked to think she left it all behind – but it wasn't the entire truth. What happened with Harry, with her parents, with her name – she couldn't just leave all of this behind. She really didn't appreciate Maroni digging it out in front of people who were supposed to become her new friends, or at least associates.

But still, she decided to give Maroni a shot – she didn't decline his offer of taking her as his plus one to the upcoming mental health fundraiser.

„I'm sure everyone will be absolutely delighted to meet you, Charlotte.”, he assured her and she wondered how their budding relationship is going to be perceived.

Eventually, the evening was over and it was time to part ways. Misty – who drank just one glass of wine too much – couldn't drive.

„A cab maybe?”, Charlie suggested, rubbing her arms with her palms. It was very cold outside and once again she regretted not having a coat.

„Yeah, that seems like our only option, considering Sal disappeared...”, Misty sighed in response, side-eyeing silent Jonathan Crane. „Can you drive?”

„I don't have a license.”, Crane replied in a chipper voice. „I don't live far from here, I can walk.”

„I'm going to freeze to death.”, Charlie sighed.

„You can borrow my coat.”, Oswald suggested suddenly. „It's not like I'm going on any walks anyway. I'd rather not see you turn into a block of ice.”

„Oh, but I thought penguins like ice.”

„Penguins also like fish, but I'd rather die than even look in the general direction of sushi. So take this coat... Or stay the night. That's also an option.”

She laughed and took his coat. What was that thing she saw in his eyes – was it relief, disappointment, a promise? She couldn't tell what's going on in his head – his squinty-eyed, furrowed-brows smile was the perfect mask. It was nice to look at and it filled her lower body with familiar warmth; but it still felt like a mask.

„When do you want it back?”, she asked as she put it on; it was way too big and looked like a potato sack, but at least it was warm. It also smelled like him, especially the collar; and she was sure she spotted some dried up blood on it.

„Whenever.”, he said nonchalantly. „But maybe... Tomorrow? Same time, same place. This time you'll get your drink.”

„See you tomorrow then.”, she said with a smile, planted a kiss on a scruffy cheek and left the building with Misty to find a cab.

„What's up with you two?”, Misty asked, side-eyeing Charlie who was walking next to her, trying to not trip.

„I have a way with people.”, Charlie responded evasively. „And so does he, apparently. He's still a charmer.”

„He's a charmer until he runs out of patience. Then he's just an asshole.”

„He seems to be pretty patient though.”

„Oh, you'd be surprised.”

She knew Misty is right; she knew there is a lot she doesn't know about Cobblepot. Probably a lot of ugly things – but doesn't everyone have an ugly, hidden side? She shouldn't judge. She wasn't in the right position to judge.

Much to her own surprise she realized the thought of getting to know Oswald – actually getting to know him – makes her... Excited.

She was looking forward to finding out what's hiding beneath the surface.

***

That night she – again – dreamt about Cobblepot asking her if she's alright down there. It was a recurring dream; her mind kept coming back to it, like it was important, like it mattered. It was probably the only time someone asked her if she's alright during her road trip, true – but so many other things had happened! She saw sunrises and sunsets and bar fights and car crashes and armed robberies. And yet – her brain decided this is the most noteworthy thing to happen to her.

„Let's romanticize this terrorist, why the fuck not.” she muttered, her eyes still closed. „Bad boy with a heart of gold archetype. Never gets old. Never stops being alluring.”

But those harsh words meant nothing to her. She just couldn't force herself to genuinely care – and be angry or sad - about everything Cobblepot did during his little revolution; it felt so distant. It felt unreal.

(The man who kissed her last night was a murderer and a dangerous criminal. She liked the thrill that came with that thought.)

She could feel the loneliness creeping in again, along with the urge to get up, leave and never come back, like she did so many times. She kind of regretted not getting in touch with her old friends from the previous life; they'd at least fill the silent emptiness with the mindless, meaningless buzzing. She wondered who'd text back if she messaged them right now – and she could only think of Misty, who always texted back, sooner or later.

How to even make friends like a normal person? She didn't know. She never had to know. Friends usually just... Came to her. She never had to actually try to befriend someone.

„What was I doing when I still had everything?” she wondered out loud, finally opening her eyes and staring at the ceiling. Posting on instagram? People loved tasting the luxury and money. Going out with „friends” - who don't deserve to be called this, considering it was shallow and performative on both ends – and getting drunk?

She could barely remember her life before Harry. She couldn't remember what to do when you're staying in one place. She couldn't remember how to stay in one place.

She decided to pay Oswald a visit. An early one. A long one.

His coat was hanging from the nearby chair, looking even more like a sack than it did yesterday. She wondered how is it possible for a piece of clothing to look so good on a person and so bad in any other situation – usually it was the other way around.

Or maybe it was Oswald himself, who was making this work.

It was late morning when she arrived at Peperoncino, wearing a sundress and holding the biggest cup of lemonade the nearby cafe had to offer. She tucked the coat in a bag; she set it down with a quiet thump as she sat on a stool.

Jacques was behind the counter, like usual.

„Really?”, he asked, glancing at her. „Coming to a bar with your own drink? Classy.”

„I'm not here for a drink. Can I go upstairs?”

„Is this a booty call?”

She snorted quietly and shook her head.

„No, I have something that belongs to him. I want to give it back.”

„That's cold.” Jacques said quietly – almost too quietly for her to hear.

„I'm sorry, what?”

„No, no, nothing. Go ahead. It's not like I can just tell you to stay here and expect you to respect it.”

„Jacques, what is your problem with me exactly? I just got here. I don't even know you.”

„My problem is with that douche upstairs, taking up my living space. It's nothing personal. Well, it might turn personal if you'll move in as well, but here's to hoping for the best.”

Only then Charlie noticed how tired Jacques is. Sure, he was standing straight and talking with no problem and had no dark circles – but his eyes were so, so tired.

„Is he really so bad to have around?”

„He is the worst. We used to be friends, but... I think I preferred it when he was gone and not here. Anyway.”

He sighed and yawned.

„Go ahead. Let me know if you need anything. Like... A really big knife.”

She gathered her stuff and went upstairs, leaving the ginger, tired bartender to his own devices.

Peperoncino's upper floor was spacious and quiet. Lots of closed doors, lots of rugs, lots of potted plants – and quiet sounds of living coming from the nearby room.

„Knock knock.”, she said opening the door with her free hand and not actually knocking. „Guess who.”

The office that used to belong to Jacques looked like it was recently and hastily redecorated – most of the furnitures had been pushed out, leaving the center empty.

Cobblepot was there, working out – as she entered he was doing push ups.

„I wasn't expecting you this early.”, he said without stopping, glancing at her; his hair was sticking to his forehead, as he was covered in sweat. „But good morning. Mind if I finish?”

„Oh, by all means, do go on.” she said with a smirk and took a sip of her cold drink. She set her bag down on a floor and sat on the nearest surface – the surface being a heavy, mahogany desk – enjoying the view.

He still had strong arms, and she could see the muscles on his scars-covered back. She remembered dragging her nails across his warm skin and she remembered his iron grip on her wrists.

„Are you really so bored?”, she asked, crossing her legs. In response Oswald laughed and shook his head, switching to one arm push ups.

„I used to be a boxer, you know. Old habits die hard.”

That made a lot of sense, she decided. It was obvious he knows how to fight, and his scars were telling a story of a lot of fights.

Watching his muscles move under his skin made her feel a familiar tingle in her underbelly. Wasn't the first time she felt it in his company, and she was sure it won't be the last; she wondered if he also feels it.

„Are there some vids of your fights?”, she asked, taking an ice cube out of her cup and putting it in her mouth. She often humored herself with a thought of Oswald covered in bruises and blood, the latter being preferably not his own; she wondered if all she has to do to get it is to simply ask.

„Probably, yeah. Would have to dig a bit for them, considering it was all illegal, but I'm sure someone kept a few files. But you'll have to ask nicely. There's something in the word please that really motivates me.” he said with a wink.

He was talking effortlessly, as if he wasn't just putting almost all of his weight on one arm.

Watching him was oddly hypnotic and she wondered if he knows. If he's just showing off.

He switched to sit ups, facing her, and she noticed some new scars on his torso.

„Is that Batman's doing?”

„Pretty much.”

„You should drink something. You'll dehydrate.”

„Your concern is very touching.”, he said mockingly, winking at her. „I know what I'm doing. Years of experience, Charlie.”

She liked hearing him say her name out loud. The way it rolled out of his mouth, the way he always said the second syllable a bit lower than the first one.

She wondered if he'd like the sensation of ice cube sliding across his hot skin.

He finished his sit ups and got up, drenched in sweat. She winced slightly; he needed a shower, asap.

„Be a darling, give me some of this.” he said, reaching for her cup. She handed it to him and he emptied it in one big swig, only leaving ice cubes at the bottom.

„I'll add it to your list.” she said, watching his Adam's apple move slightly.

„What list?”

„List of drinks you owe me. One day my patience will run out.”

„Oh, is that a threat? I'm terrified.”, he assured her with a squinty-eyed smile and put the – now mostly empty – cup down. „Give me a moment, I'll take a shower and be right back.”

„Take your time, I actually do have a whole day.”

„So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked after leaving the bathroom, his hair dripping wet.

„I need company.” she replied simply. „Being alone worked when I was on the road. Now, when I'm settling down... It doesn't feel so hot.”

„So you're really staying? For good?”

„What, does Gotham have a problem with outsiders? Am I breaking some old, unspoken rule?”

„No, no. I just want to make sure this is not our last conversation.”

He winked at her.

„I want my last words to you to be truly memorable. But since you're not planning on leaving... Maybe I'll cool it down with grand speeches and one-liners. Talk like a normal person for once.”

„Are you... Calling yourself out?”

„Oh, I've got a penchant for theatrics and flaunting my eloquence left and right. It annoys some... And charms the others.”

„You love listening to the sound of your own voice, don't you?”

„Seems like I'm not the only one.”

Charlie laughed in response. Oswald definitely had a point – she did like listening to him. He had a way with words. And a nice voice.

„Maybe, maybe not.”

He sat down on a nearby couch, taking up all the space. He cocked his head, staring at her.

„What?” she finally asked when the sudden silence got heavier. It started to feel like a mistake, coming there. Like a foolish thing to do, a naive thing. What happened yesterday implied chemistry – but he was probably just bored. She was probably just bored.

„Let's act like normal people for once.” he said. „What do normal people do when they're hanging out?”

„Get drunk. Go shopping. Watch movies. You know”, she added „it's kinda sad. The fact we have trouble figuring this out.”

„We're not exactly regular people with regular lives, Charlie. Well, at least I'm not. You're still an enigma.”

„You could just google me, you know.”

„I know, but I'm not going to. I want to hear it from you. Come on, let's invade Jackie's living room.”

He got up and left and she followed, watching his bare back. Did he mean what he just said? She couldn't tell. He somehow tricked the entire city into thinking he's a good replacement for Bruce Wayne; she knew he probably could manipulate her as well.

Changing your mind already, Charlie? You were so eager to give him a chance despite what he did. You little hypocrite.

She ignored her inner voice – like she did a lot of times before – and tried to have a nice afternoon with a potential friend-with-benefits, like normal people do.

It didn't work. It took Oswald about an hour to realize something is wrong – or maybe he knew right away, but wanted to let it simmer a bit.

Her paranoia was kicking in, it seems.

„You look... Tense.”

He was sitting very close, too close, not close enough. She shrugged, staring at a wall.

„Charlie?”

„It'll pass.” she muttered. „It... It's nothing.”

Was his concern genuine? She didn't know. What was he trying to accomplish? She didn't know. What was she trying to accomplish? She didn't know. All she knew was that she desperately didn't want him to dig any deeper. To allow her to have her secrets and a dead body in the closet and a reason for her overwhelming doubts.

He – slowly, carefully – put his hand on her knee and she turned around and impulsively, suddenly kissed him, desperate to distract him, to make him not push any further.

It worked, initially. He kissed her back and pulled her closer, but gently pushed her away as she tried to get him to undress her.

„Charlie, pardon my language, but... What the fuck?” he asked, keeping her at arm's length .

„What? You're not into me anymore?” she asked in response, trying to keep her head high.

„You are on a verge of a mental breakdown, it seems. This... This isn't right.”

„Killing people isn't right, Oswald. Didn't stop... You.”

He seemingly didn't notice the strange pause.

„There's a difference between killing a corrupt politician and... This. I don't even have a word for this and I have a word for everything.”

„I was talking about the debate moderator. Didn't stop you from killing him.”

„What exactly are you trying to accomplish here, Charlie?” he asked, looking her in the eye. „Are you trying to shame me? Fuck me? Distract me?”

„A bit of everything, I suppose.”

„I'm flattered. No, really. Very few things are more flattering than this kind of attention coming from a lovely dame. But this isn't right.”

„You have a weird sense of right and wrong.”

„Maybe. But at least I stick to it. Get back to me on a good day, Charlie. Get back to me when you just want to have some fun, no puppet strings attached. I'll wait. It's not like I even can go anywhere.”

He didn't question her sudden mood swing. He didn't push. He did everything right; but when she left the building she felt like she wants to disappear forever. Or finally open up to someone. Run away. Stay. Forget about everything. Keep him.

She wanted some very conflicting things.

„Maybe I'll flip a coin.” she muttered to herself on her way back to the hotel, as the taxi she was in stopped by the red light. „Let physics decide.”

„What?” the driver said and she shook her head.

„I'm talking to myself.”

„Happens to the best of us.”

And the worst.

***

She spent rest of the day alone in her apartment, her loneliness only interrupted by – quiet, helpful, polite – room service. She was sad and torn, but a girl still has to eat; and that hotel had some damn good truffles to offer.

Charlie had no idea what had gotten into her before. This sudden surge of paranoia, overthinking, anxiety; it all had happened before, but to a smaller, more manageable degree. The world was a shitty place and people were in general terrible – but that was the first time something like this had happened.

Maybe the reality of what happened was slowly setting in. Maybe staying in one place caused her brain to work everything out in the background. Maybe she was more messed up than she thought. Maybe this all – Harry, her trip, his death – affected her more than she realized.

There was also another matter at hand; the familiar, warm tingling she felt when watching Oswald hadn't left her - she ignored it for the rest of the day, but it was there and it didn't seem like it's going anywhere.

She felt like Cobblepot is touching those parts of her soul she reserved as bedroom-exclusive. Watching him made her realize just how into him she really is – she wanted to relive their one night together, but maybe make it last longer. She wanted him to pin her to bed again and render her helpless – in a good way that can be stopped at any moment.

She closed her eyes and then she saw it again, like it was imprinted inside her eyelids; Oswald pushing himself up on one arm, effortlessly, his muscles moving slightly, faint laughter in the background.

She wanted him to be there. She wanted him to help; and she was sure he'd be more than happy to do so.

The thought of his obnoxious, squinty-eyed smirk sent a sudden shiver through her body and she sighed, opening her eyes and staring at the ceiling.

„Go away.”, she muttered under her breath, her hand reaching between her legs. „Fuck off.”

What did she want?

She wanted many things. She wanted to feel his stubble on her skin, his lips on her neck, his hands on her thighs, his presence next to her, his breath intertwined with hers. She wanted him; and with her hand on her mound she wondered if at this moment he's also thinking about her. How he sees her in his head, when he's alone and only has his memories.

He was patient and she wondered if he'd use it to keep her on the edge, if he'd make her beg. He probably would; he liked making people say „please” - he said it himself, winking at her.

Her other hand slipped under her shirt and cupped her breast and Charlie closed her eyes again and let go, indulging herself in maybes and woulds and wants.

***

The fundraiser Salvatore invited her to was held in a private garden, belonging to... She didn't remember the name nor she cared about it. She still had time to learn the names of Gotham's social elite.

She had to, at some point, considering she was about to become one of them.

They were on their way there, in Maroni's limousine. They didn't talk much; in fact they didn't talk at all. She was looking through the window and occasionally glancing at her reflection, checking if everything's in its place.

„Charlotte.”

„Yes?” she responded, not looking at him.

„Did something happen between you and Oswald?”

„What do you mean?” she asked, trying to buy herself some time. Carefully, she looked at him; his brows were furrowed and he seemed to be lost in thoughts.

„Jacques told me about your visit last week. And ever since then... Oswald had been acting strange.”

„I'd rather not talk about-”

„Charlotte.” he interrupted her, still speaking as monotonously as always. „What are your plans regarding him?”

That was an excellent question and she had quite a few answers available - „I want him to fuck my brains out”. „I want him to be my booty call that I'll hook up with few times a week”. „I want him to be my friend, he seems nice, except for all the killing”. „I think he might be able to mend me back together, slowly, piece be piece”. „I think we might be able to mend each other back together”.

The last two came seemingly out of nowhere and she almost winced, surprised by her own sudden sentimentality.

„I'm not a threat, Salvatore.” she said instead, finally turning her head to face him. „I'm not going to endanger him.”

„This is not what I asked, but alright. Have it your way.” he agreed politely and impassively; a sharp reminder he's not that easy to trick. „I trust you'll not tell anyone about his whereabouts.”

„This secret is safe with me.” she assured him, nervously clutching her leather purse.

Maroni nodded solemnly and the car stopped.

„Smile, Charlotte.” she heard Maroni say quietly as he helped her get out of the car. „Everyone's looking.”

He wasn't lying – people were staring, undoubtedly wondering who's this young redhead at Maroni's side and if it's a custom Vera Wang that she's wearing.

She quickly looked around, giving people her best smile and looking out for any familiar faces – she remembered some old family friends mentioning Gotham once or twice. But no; nobody looked even remotely familiar. It seemed like she's on her own.

Maroni was quietly greeting other people and introducing her and she absentmindedly followed, not registering neither names nor faces. She only came back to Earth when she heard the word „condolences”.

„I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that... I'm a bit out of it tonight.” she said apologetically and the other woman nodded, her face expressing the purest sympathy.

„I said I'm deeply sorry about your husband, Charlotte. A terrible loss.”

„Depends on your definition of „terrible”, really.” she said without thinking and the other woman – Regina Zellerbach, she remembered suddenly – blinked in surprise.

It's been months since her last fancy party and she felt like a fish out of water. It wasn't long before she started – politely, calmly – to argue with someone. They said Penguin was a worthless, mindless beast. She disagreed.

„He was robbed.” she said to the exceptionally calm man, who had unspeakable anger in his eyes. „And basically orphaned. Left alone.”

„That doesn't excuse anything.”

„But it explains it. And also raises an interesting question – would it happen if someone was there for him?”

„Bruce Wayne didn't turn to the life of crime.”

„Because he had someone to guide him. Oswald Cobblepot didn't.”

Another person joined the conversation; a tall woman with olive skin and dark curls, carefully styled to look elegantly messy.

„Cobblepot is a menace.” she stated seriously, taking a sip of her champagne. „Some people... Just have the evil within them. He'd turn bad no matter what. And he'll never be satisfied, no matter what he gets. He just wants chaos and destruction. He just wants to see the world burn.”

The man nodded with satisfaction, turned around and left and Charlie felt like she's about to strangle the dark-haired stranger, who was looking at her calmly, still sipping her drink.

„You know...” she said finally „I made this speech about Oswald being a menace about fifteen times now – and people always eat it up.”

„I wonder why.” Charlie responded, crossing her arms and staring at the stranger suspiciously. „Who are you?”

„Louise McDonagh, assistant district attorney, head of the Penguin investigation and a friend of a friend. Want to hear something funny?”

„Yeah?”

„Oz actually helped me write this speech.”

Louise winked at her and Charlie felt relief washing over her. She laughed out quietly and shook her head.

„Should've guessed. You sounded very convincing.”

„Of course I did, I went to Juilliard. I'm incredible at pretending.”

„Nice to meet you, Louise.”

„Likewise... Charlie. Oh, please!” she laughed seeing Charlie's concerned face. „Of course I know about you. Esme told me. And so did... Tommy.” she said as other people passed them.

„Oh? What did he say?”

„Wouldn't you like to know. Sorry. That stays between me and his sorry ass.”

„Salvatore has friends in interesting places, it seems.”

„Oh, but I'm not exactly Salvatore's friend. I'm friends with his protégé, his secretary and his IT guy, but I'm no friend of his. There's no connection between us... Officially.”

„Then shouldn't you be avoiding being seen with me?”

„Conversing with people at fundraisers is not a crime, as far as I'm concerned. Naturally some conversations are so boring they might as well be declared illegal though. Walk with me, I'll show you around.”

They went for a walk. Charlie politely ignored the majority of men and equally politely smiled to other women, who usually smiled back.

„Don't look now, but I've spotted Bruce Wayne.” Louise said quietly at some point. „He's going to turn around... Now. Aaaaand he's heading here. Fucking great.”

„Good evening.” was the first thing Bruce Wayne said to her.

„Good evening.” was what she said back; „go fuck yourself” was what she wanted to say. She wasn't too fond of him, even though she never met him – she suspected she got some of this disdain from spending time with Oswald. They never talked about Wayne during their few, brief meetings – but she knew he still hates his old childhood friend who grew up with almost everything Oswald lost.

„I don't think we've met.” Bruce said, looking her in the eye; his eyes had similar color to hers, she noticed.

In person he was a bit taller and wider than on pictures she saw of him.

„That's because we haven't. I'm not from around here. I'm Charlotte. Charlotte Schiller-Aberdeen.”

He seemed to be politely ignoring Louise and she seemed to be doing the same exact thing.

„Ah, right, Schiller-Aberdeens reside in New York, am I right? Please tell me I'm right.”

„You're almost right, mister Wayne.” she said calmly. „You should be using past tense. I'm the last of my family – for now – and as you can see... I'm not in New York anymore.”

He seemed surprised. She smiled at him, even though her eyes remained perfectly indifferent.

„I hope Gotham will treat you well. Now please excuse me...” he said, turned around and left. Louise left out an annoyed sigh and rolled her eyes.

„I'll take you two are not exactly best friends.”

„I hate this asshole.” Louise said bluntly and shortly. „I hate his guts. It's mutual. I used to be a social worker, you know? I said he's not fit to be an adoptive parent to anyone. I stopped being a social worker shortly after that.”

„Why is he unfit?”

„Something about him just feels... Wrong. Like he never really worked through what happened. Until he finally deals with that – and puts his parents to rest – he shouldn't be taking care of anyone, but himself.”

„That's harsh.”

„But true. No child deserves to be raised by someone who'll only end up projecting onto them, destroying them in the process.”

Charlie's phone buzzed in her purse and she took it out. She got a text informing her of a package waiting for her at the front desk of the hotel she was staying at; which was odd, because she absolutely didn't remember ordering anything.

Louise tilted her head, watching Charlie's battered phone with cracked screen.

„And what the hell happened to this little thing?”

„Months on the road.” Charlie replied shortly. „I'll get a new one... Eventually.”

„Oh, you will. The latest tech, straight from the lab.”

„What?”

„You didn't know? We don't use just any store-bought phones. We're using custom made state-of-the-art models Sal's main tech guy fixes up in his spare time.”

„Are you serious?”

„Dead serious. Wayne Tech outside for the looks, Luthor Tech inside for the security and best emojis. You could hack into Pentagon using one of these. Eddie truly is a magician... And a reason Ozzie still has any contact with the outside world. Oh, speak of the devil.” she sighed, looking at her own phone. „I think he's feeling lonely.”

„Let's not talk about him.” she said, despite her inner voice practically begging her to ask about him for some ungodly reason.

„Agreed. Let me just text him back... And now maybe let's find Sal. I haven't seen him tonight.”

„Now that you mention it... Shouldn't I be at his side, considering I'm his plus one?”

„Nah. People saw you arrive with him, that's all that matters. Now come on, I want some cheese. Sal's always somewhere next to cheese.”

They found him next to caviar. Its sight made Charlie shudder – caviar was one of things she didn't at all miss. Who even eats this? Who actually enjoys it?

Gotham social elite, it seemed.

„You look pale.” Louise pointed out, after warmly greeting Maroni, who kissed her on her cheeks.

„I want a cheeseburger.”

„Trust me, I sympathize. I'd kill for some fries. Where are you staying?”

„The Peak.”

„Oh, I'm jealous. There's a great burger joint right around the corner from there. They're open all night, they deliver and you can order online. Truly, the owner is a god among mortal men.”

Louise waved her hands enthusiastically when saying that and Charlie smiled and nodded. Gotham seemed to be filled with open, direct women – and this one seemed like a good friend material. And a right kind of friend, in addition – being friends with the ADA seemed like a smart move.

And being friends with the ADA who's protecting someone you want to fuck is an even smarter move, obviously.

After the party came to an end Charlie said goodbye to Louise – and again entered Salvatore's limousine, taking her phone out to find that amazing burger place her new friend recommended.

„Hey, Salvatore.” she said not looking up from her screen. „When are you going to hook me up with your tech guy? I could use a new phone.”

„It's already taken care of.” Maroni replied quietly and she knew he's not even looking in her general direction.

„So, this whole arrangement... How is it going to work anyway?”

„What do you mean, Charlotte?”

„Us. What exactly do you expect from me?”

„You're exceptionally rich, Charlotte. It's old money – and completely unrelated to Gotham. And your name... Carries a certain weight in certain circles.”

„So it's all about my money and my name. I'm okay with that. You're not going to use it to try and conquer the world, right?”

„Heavens, no. I'm using my assets to build a safety net for Oswald.”

„Wait, seriously? All that – just for him?”

„One day you'll understand, Charlotte.”

Charlotte. She never liked the full version of her name and she felt like one day Salvatore's going to address her as Charlotte Beatrice Elizabeth.

Though she could understand taking ridiculous measures to ensure someone's safety. She wasn't sure if she'd go this far for this particular person – even if she really didn't want him to get caught, at least not any time soon – but she could imagine herself sinking tons of money in making sure someone close to her is safe. Like her parents. She'd be ready to pay for that, if only it was possible.

She missed them. A lot. And hadn't visited them since the funeral; she avoided thinking about their grave, about the cold marble, about their names and dates, engraved there forever.

„Thank you, Charlotte.” Maroni said as she was leaving the car and trying to not trip over her dress.

On her way to the elevator she stopped by the front desk, to get her mysterious package – it turned out to be a single white rose, with a note attached to the stem.

„That's a new.” she muttered quietly and turned her eyes to the visibly tired receptionist. „Leslie, right?”

„That's right.”

„Thank you.” she said softly, tipping the young man. „There will be a food delivery for me, will you let them in?”

„Certainly. Have a good night, miss.”

Only in the elevator she read the note. It said simply „Feeling better?” in a slightly messy cursive – but what really made her smile was a phone number, hastily scribbled under the question. Of course. He couldn't resist. She didn't know why she's even surprised, considering she already knew about that one time he gave an interview while in hiding.

She left her dress on the nearest chair and put her fluffiest robe on; only after washing her makeup off she finally reached for her phone.

hey, she texted. The answer came almost immediately.

[rose emoji]

Feeling better?

Why do you ask?

Because I can borrow a car and drop by.

It's dangerous.

1. I like danger. 2. I'll manage.

Room 362.

I know. I'll be there in 20.

He showed up on time – as the food delivery girl was taking her money, Charlie saw Oswald enter the corridor. Seeing the other person he stopped and quietly turned around, disappearing in the nearby fire exit.

As the elevator doors closed behind the girl he reappeared with a shit eating grin on his face.

„That was close.” he stated. „Come on, let me in before someone actually sees me.”

„What brings you here anyway?” she asked, setting her – already forgotten – food on the table and locking the door behind him.

„Boredom. Loneliness. Insomnia.”

„And I'm the cure to all of this?”

„Who knows, maybe.”

He paused for a moment, staring at her. His face lightened up.

„That's the first time I'm seeing your freckles, you know.”

„That's the fifth time in total you see me at all.”

„Yes, and the last time didn't go so great, now did it?”

Was that why he decided to suddenly sneak out of Peperoncino and pay her a visit?

„Sorry about that.”

„Do you want to... Talk about it? Because I think we should.”

„You're not my therapist, Oz.”

„No, but I'm your friend. Or that's what I'm trying to be, at least.” he quickly corrected himself. „We're all friends, thanks to Maroni.”

„Is this why you're here? To give me a pep talk?”

„I wanted to see you. Imagining you is one thing, but having you in person... Is a whole lot better.”

He winked at her and she laughed, blushing furiously, like redheads do.

„That's a very nice way of saying that. I'm impressed.”

Knowing she wasn't the only one getting off to her imagination and wishful thinking was oddly comforting. What was even more comforting was that she was on his mind often enough to eventually make him act upon it.

Or maybe...

No. Shut up. Not tonight. Shut up.

He made a step in her direction. She didn't move. He took another step. And another one.

He was standing close enough for her to see every detail of his face. God, she thought, staring at him, her head tilted slightly, he's hot.

„Is this going to become a regular thing?” she asked quietly, taking his hand and gently stroking it with her fingertips. „Hm?”

„It might, if you're up for it. I know I am.”

„We should talk this out, you know. Work out the details. Boundaries. Preferences.”

She was mostly joking – it could wait a bit.

But he seemed to be very serious when he said „Oh, you're absolutely right. Let's talk this through.”

„Wow, I played myself.” she sighed as they sat down on a couch and he smirked and she instantly knew that somehow, somehow – he planned all of this.

„Is that what gets you off?” she asked, crossing her arms and he raised his eyebrows in fake shock.

„What do you mean?”

„Denial. Is that what gets you off?”

„Is that what gets you off, Charlie?”

„Yes.”

„Hardly surprising.”

„Hey, fuck you.”

„Ah, but we'll get to that... Eventually.”

She was starting to feel way too hot in her ridiculously fluffy robe; after all, when she put it on she didn't expect it to stay on for so long.

„Can you at least get me out of this? I'm going to overheat and die. And I hope you're not into that.”

„Temperature play is fine, but cooking people alive is a bit extreme even for me. Come 'ere.”

She shuffled closer and he – methodically, slowly – got her out of her bathrobe, leaving her only in her underwear.

But she didn't mind that, not at all – and he didn't seem to pay any attention at all to her freckled skin.

Asshole.

„So, Charlie, now that you're comfortable...”

„I'll be comfortable once I come. Come on. Ask away. Let's get this over with.”

„Stop trying to hurry me up, I actually like watching you squirm.”

She glanced at him and he winked at her and she wanted to just grab him by his shirt and either kiss him or bite his tongue off. Or maybe pull his face to her neck. Or a bit lower. Yes. That'd work as well.

It took him about fifteen minutes to finally get to the point and ask her what she likes. It took her approximately five seconds to list everything she could think of without sounding too desperate.

„And what about you?” she finally asked, half genuinely curious half hoping he'll just ignore the question.

„How surprised would you be if I said boxing actually gets me off?”

„I'm not going to punch you.”

„I don't mind rough treatment, that's what I'm trying to tell you.”

„I'm going to fucking bite you.”

„See? Exactly what I'm talking about.”

Finally her patience gave up and she did what she wanted to do for some time now – grabbed him by the shirt, pulled him close and kissed him, letting go the moment he put his hand on her back.

„I'm going to bed.” she informed him. „Join me or fuck off.”

She got up and left the room, her dramatic exit only slightly ruined by her tripping over her shoes she left on the floor.

He soon followed and she sighed with relief. He closed the bedroom doors behind them – fucking gentleman – and pushed her onto bed, only having time to get his shirt off before she pulled him closer, biting his neck and dragging her nails across his back.

„At least let me warm up, wouldn't you?” he said unsuccessfully trying to grab her hands. She laughed in his face.

„Oh, but I thought that's how you like it!”

„Maybe.” he muttered, his lips an inch away from her neck. „But you're still on a losing position 'ere.”

After a short struggle they ended up exactly the way she wanted them to; half undressed, tangled together. Just like in her thoughts, just like last time, he was holding her wrists and smirking, as she groaned and whined, firmly refusing to say that one word.

(She just didn't want him to stop. She wanted to test his patience, just a bit.)

His hand was on her lace-covered mound and his lips were on her neck and she was feeling so, so warm; her eyes flung open when he gently bit the skin around her left nipple.

„Have you considered getting it pierced?”

„I did.” she muttered back. „In college.”

„You should do it. Opens some beautiful opportunities.”

��Can't you just shut up and get me off?”

„I can, but I'm not going to.” he said, his hand sliding inside her undies. „I want to hear you say please.”

It took him about an hour to finally make her crack and say „please” breathlessly, desperately, needily. Her face was flushed and her aching, heated skin was covered in bitemarks and he was holding her, smirking proudly as he fingered her.

„That didn't sound convincing.” he said with fake doubt in his voice. „Maybe try pretty please.”

„Pretty please, you... Fuckbird.” she panted out the first thing that came to mind, budging her hips and he laughed in her face and then kissed her and let her go and she put her arms around him and pulled him closer, closer, closer.

He left her hotel room with a lot of new scratch marks on his back, and at least one bite mark on his shoulder as the sun was rising, the rich Gotham still asleep, blissfully unaware. As he was leaving, he stole two things from her – one last kiss and her forgotten double cheeseburger with fries. He left the room-temperature vanilla shake though. Maybe he didn't like room temperature milkshakes.

„Oswald, leave it alone!” she called out to him from her bed, not moving. He only laughed and shook his head.

„Add this to my list!”

And just like that he left and she slowly fell asleep, her dreams for once free of Oswald Cobblepot.

#telltale batman #batman the telltale series #oswald cobblepot #ff #oc #eng #pinnguin

1 note · View note