The Scarred - Chapter 12 🩸

Serenity - Masterlist (Complete)

Summary - Vulgaria was a remote country, held its own beauty quite unlike others. Everything about it was peculiar. The village, the castle, the people. In the village sat a rather famed tailor shop, and the recluse that was its head seamstress unknowingly caught the eye of a notorious henchman of the barbaric Baron Bomburst. Accepting a tempting offer, what was supposed to be a simple project began to meddle with her already disorganized family, and little did she know her sanity would soon follow.

Notes - This story is set prior to the events of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Characters may seem OOC at times due to not being given much material to work with. Some background and history of the country and characters are not canon in the film. *I do not own any of the franchise, only my personal characters*!

Song/Theme - “So Far” by Ólafur Arnalds feat. Arnór Dan

Warnings -

Trauma

Abuse

Minor sexual themes

Manipulation

Chapters -

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11 (Final)

Created a new blog (https://www.tumblr.com/arts-bloody-rose) dedicated to my Blood of A Rose work!

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Art’s Rose 🥀

This page is dedicated to my Blood of A Rose series with Art the Clown, requests welcome!

This will include everything related to my Blood of A Rose series as well as any requests you may have regarding it or anything Art the Clown related to bring more of the attention this underrated character/actor deserves. Please feel free to let me know what you would like to see!

Work that had already been posted for this series on my main page will be tagged/linked on that page.

Thank you all for your support ♥️🖤🤍

The Scarred - Chapter 4

Masterlist

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

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

But what about the mess? She asked herself amidst the chaos. Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out the ambience around her.

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

She closed her eye, grounding in an attempt to compose herself. Never had she broken down in front of a stranger. And never had she felt more humiliated by it. She hated coming across as weak and vulnerable, and she felt as if she was both in that moment.

Her eye snapped back open when she heard the sound of a plastic bag, eyeing the man warily as he walked back to start picking up the glass shards. He noticed how her breathing had only slightly improved, but it was progress.

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

“Juss doin’ my duty.”

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

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

“People are scared enough to impersonate Batman, I don’t think they’d dare to impersonate The Joker himself. Seems like he gets more bold by the day for a nobody, anyhow.”

“Then pray yer juss really lucky. He’s gainin’ reputation rather quick, if I do say so meself.” He spoke in a softer tone. He began to tie the bag as she continued to carefully watch him. “I don’t believe I’ve caught yer name yet?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was a murderer, a psychopath. And yet she had half a mind to consider being flattered.

Really lucky or really dead.

Why would she be dead? Had she angered someone without her knowing?

She froze.

“The boss.” She whispered to herself in realization. It couldn’t have been a coincidence. The bald man had to be working for The Joker. Which meant he knew where she worked.

How much else did he know? Who all knew? How many people were following her?

Question after question ran through her head and it was almost unbearable. She didn’t know what she even did to be on his radar in the first place.

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

“Well, John, I think it’s safe to say that The Joker’s slow uprising is truly fascinating for the people of Gotham. Not only in the sense that he is beginning to make a name for himself, but it gives the chance for other criminals to wreak havoc on the city knowing that Batman could possibly be busy with him if things start to get out of hand, more than usual for what the mob calls a ‘nobody’.” The woman on the other line spoke. Penelope scoffed at her words.

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

“Let’s just hope that Batman is able to do what he does best, and fast. Cause -“ Penelope switched the TV off, having heard enough of it.

It upset her that the city was putting their faith in a masked man, that none of them had the nerve to do something themselves. That they couldn’t even rely on their own first responders. That she couldn’t rely on first responders.

She began to peel off her bandages, dragging her feet towards her bathroom. So much had happened in only a week and it all started to catch up to her, her head starting to pound from it all.

The note. The glass. The bald man offering her a large sum of money for just a vase of flowers, that he possibly worked for The Joker, finding out The Joker had been tracking her for who knows how long.

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

For her safety. She thought to herself in reassurance before sleep took over.

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

Along with the gun that clicked from behind her.

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

“I don’t have any.”

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

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

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

“I only have one hand.”

“So, raise your one hand, then.” Penelope awkwardly turned around on the ledge.

“Alrigh’, enough talkin’.“ The man halted, red quickly seeping through his jacket. She watched in horror as he collapsed.

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

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

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

“Why?”

“Why what? Why did I do it -?”

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Dinner.” Liam nodded.

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

“That’s quite a coincidence.”

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

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

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

“What’ll they do?” She finally looked up at him. “What will they do? You’re the one that was saying yesterday that they’re all ‘running around like chickens with their heads cut off’.“ She began to rant, everything starting to catch up to her. Her eye began to glisten as it watered over. “And if they can’t help me, who can? Certainly not Batman!“ She spit the masked man’s name with venom. “They're all bought out by the mob, anyways! Why the hell would they care to keep The Joker from coming for just a single person, from coming for me -!”

“Miss!” Liam held onto her shoulders, keeping her steady. In a moment of desperation, she clung to him, and once again she caught him off guard as she started to break down for the second time. He began to gently stroke her back, letting her take in the silence to collect herself.

A van sat in the distance, tinted windows making it impossible to see through. It was cracked enough for him to see who was in it and he made eye contact with a pair of almost pure black eyes, giving them a faint nod.

Serenity - Chapter 1

Masterlist

Summary - Vulgaria was a remote country, held its own beauty quite unlike others. Everything about it was peculiar. The village, the castle, the people. In the village sat a rather famed tailor shop, and the recluse that was its head seamstress unknowingly caught the eye of a notorious henchman of the barbaric Baron Bomburst. Accepting a tempting offer, what was supposed to be a simple project began to meddle with her already disorganized family, and little did she know her sanity would soon follow.

-

The birds chirping outside were what woke her up first. Then it was the quiet footsteps making the floors creak. Mary peaked out of the small window next to her bed, the sun just barely rising above the horizon. With a rather large yawn and an even larger stretch she sat up on the edge and slid her feet into her slippers. She went through the motions of getting ready for the day, the majority of it fuzzy, finishing with a single braid in her hair before she finally made it to the dining room. Her mother was already in the kitchen cooking breakfast.

“Good morning, ma.” The older woman looked over and smiled.

“Good morning, liebling.” Mary gave her a gentle hug before helping her. “Sleep well?”

“I suppose so.” The two of them were quiet for a few moments, the sound of stirring and sizzling the only thing filling the silence of the room until it was broken by Mary. “Are you feeling alright?” More silence. Mary was beginning to regret even asking had it not been for the comforting hand that made its way to her shoulder.

“I’m alright, dear.” Mary moved a hand to rest on top of her mother’s, offering a wary smile before resuming her mixing. “I noticed that dress you’re making. Your personal project, is it?” Mary hummed in confirmation.

“It was going well until yesterday.”

“I think it’s beautiful. Why, I wouldn’t have even noticed anything was wrong if I hadn't known.” The morning continued rather peacefully, the two of them enjoying the small moments they had with each other. It was their break from reality, abeling them to fantasize that they were the only two within their already small family. That nothing else mattered. They both learned to love the little joys in life, the simplest things that no one else seemed to notice. It made everything worthwhile to them.

By the time the sun reached above their heads the market was bustling with energy. Feet padded and clicked along the stone of the plaza, though there wasn’t as quite a hustle as the day before. Personalities clashed whether it was between other customers or vendors, or both which happened to be the most common occurrence. Women gawked at the latest jewelry, and occasionally Mary’s newest attire on display. Men showed off newly bought cattle in a friendly banter. Mary would’ve enjoyed it were it not for her father’s reputation.

The villagers were reclusive with unfriendlies, and unfortunately all it took was one person to ruin it for the lot. Aside from necessities, the delicate work of the seamstress was the only thing saving the family from complete isolation, it seemed.

The skill came naturally to her, much to her mother’s delight. Once she taught Mary the basics she was able to leave her to her own devices. Mary eventually came up with her own techniques, even drifting from basic designs they had been using since the business started. It was refreshing to the villagers and attracted more customers, and though it made the family all the more busy money was coming in quicker and she was able to build a pleasant reputation for herself. But it did little to nothing in the great scheme of things.

Her mother organized the shop in the back, her father naturally taking his place at a table with his morning glass of bourbon as Mary worked on small fixings at the stand. Things had surprisingly gone smooth for the time being, but then again it was still quite early in the day.

It wasn’t until she had the thought that everyone stilled, listening.

Mary couldn’t tell what caused the chain reaction until they began to hear rushing hooves grow closer, followed by a familiar trumpet. She glanced around the plaza anxiously, holding her breath in anticipation until someone shouted from a nearby street.

“Soldiers!” Though thankful, the warning was in vain. Villagers scrambled to the outskirts of the plaza, trying their best to avoid being trampled as the horses circled. Merchants didn’t bother closing shop as it was already far too late.

“Giddyap!” A distinct nasally voice shouted. Their stomachs dropped, the sight of an infamous cage rolling its way into the plaza, coming to an aggressive halt once centered. The figure, clad in black, dropped from his spot on the contraption, net and hook in his gloved hands as he crept around with a crazed look in his eye. “I know there are children here somewhere.”

Mary’s heart rate picked up, fiddling with the fabric in front of her as he grew closer. As far as she was concerned, she had heard nothing of children being in the village. Not for a few months at least. Either that or her family was kept out of the loop which seemed to be the most likely answer.

“Bring them to me and you will receive a painless death.” He mused with a chuckle as he stalked closer to their shop. He seemed to look between her own and the two neighboring marketers, pacing the three of them with determination. He pointed at two nearby soldiers, directing them and their men into the homes of the two others with a grumble. Then he locked on to the seamstress.

Mary froze, regardless if she knew there were no children. She felt as if even just looking at him was a death sentence. Those who fell victim to the Child Catcher rarely ever returned, and she had yet to see a survivor herself.

She quickly glanced away as he stepped closer, now wringing the cloth. She felt him barely brush past her shoulder before he began to lurk around the tiny shop. Mary felt her face and ears burn like a fever, chancing a look at the plaza to see everyone who remained staring at their area as soldiers continued vandalizing houses in search of said children. She heard him shuffling baskets and boxes around, though not as harsh as the others. Then he went silent. No footsteps, no more shuffling.

Out of curiosity, Mary finally turned to face the room. There the Child Catcher stood in front of her mannequin, examining the dress she had been working on. He eyed it every which way, then moved on about the room to look at the rest of the items on display, feeling the different fabrics.

“Who’s responsible?” With no response he turned to face the small family, the parents looking over at Mary. She looked up to meet his eyes once more and he squinted ever so slightly, then glanced between the older couple before scoping the room again. “How exactly are you getting these?” He motioned at the cloth. Mary looked over at her mother.

“I buy them off of a traveling merchant along the road.” The catcher made a noise of approval then looked over at the nearby stairway. Practically sneering at her parents, he rushed up the stairs to scavenge around some more.

Mary took a deep breath and leaned back against the stand, running her hands along the skirt of her dress to keep them from growing more sweaty than they already were. Perhaps it would’ve been better if she hadn't grown so ambitious. She was comfortable with her reputation around the village, but with someone from the castle, let alone the Child Catcher? He was the last person you wanted to stand out to.

Their heads snapped back to the stairs at the sound of his footsteps making their descent. Once reaching the bottom he looked at the parents one last time before making his way back to the plaza, casting Mary a final glance along the way. Just as he passed through screams sounded from the neighboring home to their left.

“Mary!” Her mother whispered her over in a panic. But she didn’t move. She just stood and watched as two soldiers dragged a little boy from the villa, followed by the owners. The catcher eagerly opened his cage, cackling.

“There you are!” He sneered as the boy and his parents were practically tossed inside and shut in. As he jumped up onto his box seat he looked over at Mary one last time, then sped off with the rest of the soldiers with the crack of his whip.

The village was completely silent after the hooves disappeared. Another family was stolen from them right before their very eyes. None of them could imagine what fate awaited them. Nor did they want to find out.

Slowly villagers began to wander out into the plaza once more, though not as many as there were previously. And understandably so. Mary was engulfed by her mother’s warm embrace to which she gradually returned when she finally came to. When she pulled away from Mary she cupped her face, though grew worried when the younger woman refused to make eye contact.

“You’ll be fine, my dear.” She attempted consolation. “He didn’t seem upset.”

“He’s unpredictable and dangerous!” Her father shouted irritably from inside the shop. “I don’t ever want him here nor do I want him speaking to either of you again.” His sentence was reduced to a grumble by the end of it.

“I’m afraid we can’t tell him what to do, darling. The Baron would have our heads.” Her mother cautiously advised, only to be met with incoherent gibberish. He downed the rest of his drink and abruptly left the room, wandering into the streets of the village.

The Scarred - Chapter 7

Masterlist

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

As Penelope slipped her key into the lock of her apartment door, her hand shook. Almost expecting him to be in her living space once more. However, when it opened and no one was there, there was no relief to be felt. It was only a matter of time that he showed his face to her again, and it didn’t have to be whenever she got home. It could be at any moment, at any time, at any place. The only comforting thought about the situation was that he hadn't killed her. She assumed that if he wanted her dead, she already would be.

Penelope made her way to the fridge, pulling out leftovers to reheat for a quick dinner. As the microwave ran, she stared at the countertop in thought, facing the living room.

Even if no one else was there, his presence somehow lingered. She recalled his scent, however disturbing it was. She remembered the smell of gasoline and smoke, yet it held a sweet undertone. Burnt sugar, almost. Never would she have thought that he would have smelled of anything even remotely sweet.

She shook her head, itching to get those thoughts out of her head just as her microwave sounded. Switching the TV on, she bundled up in her blanket, food in her lap and started nibbling away. It was a good enough distraction for the time being, however temporary. And when she finished, she debated if she would even be able to sleep.

Putting the dishes away, she pulled out her phone and went to her call history, deciding on not being alone for the night. After the phone rang a few times, it picked up.

“To wha’ do I owe tha pleasure, miss?” Penny smiled lightly.

“Would you mind having company tonight? I can’t sleep…” Her voice faded at the end in embarrassment.

“I’ll do ye one better and ‘ed o’er ta yer place, yah? Tha’ way we can work on ya feelin’ safe in yer own space again. ‘Ow’s tha’ sound?” The woman took a deep breath in thought.

“Okay… Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Be o’er in a minute, miss.”

She decided to keep her bandages on with him coming over. It was uncomfortable, yes, but she couldn’t help but feel naked with them off in front of others. Not even Emma has seen her without them. She wasn’t sure if she would ever take them off in front of anyone, no matter who it was.

Barely over a minute later, there was a knock at her door. She peeked through the peephole, making sure it was in fact Liam before opening it for him. “I’m sorry if it’s a bother -“

“Oi.” Liam cut her off. “What’d I say abou’ apologizin’?”

“Right.”

“C’mon now, let’s get ya some sleep, yah?” He rested a hand on her back and led her to her bedroom. Liam decided to stay above the covers while she climbed underneath, her head in his lap while he draped an arm over her. He watched as her eye finally began to close, keeping a close eye on her until she fell asleep.

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

Her eye opened again to see a face without the paint. A bare face with maniacal scars resembling a Cheshire smile. Yet the face itself was all too familiar. A face she hadn’t seen for years. It brought nothing but comfort and security.

The bell above the door rang as she stepped into the warmer air. She trudged towards her chair, energy dampened from the night before. Just as she took her seat she heard footsteps coming from the back, heavier than usual.

“You okay, Emma?” She tried. No response. The footsteps grew closer, louder, heavier.

“Yeah, just moving this bad boy to the front.” Emma grunted as she waddled a heavy and filled vase through the doorway. Penelope let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“Don’t scare me like that, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” She practically shrieked.

“You wanna come over here and carry this and try having a casual conversation?!” She exclaimed with hands on her hips after setting the vase down. “I’m too old for that, I nearly broke my back.” She exhaled while dramatically wiping her dry forehead. Penelope chuckled to herself and the woman tossed her a look. “I’m gonna go grab some water from the store, you want anything?”

“I’m good, thank you though.”

“What? You said you want lemonade?”

“No -“

“Lemonade, got it.” She backed out the door. “Cya!”

“Geez!” Penelope jumped from her seat, the unique voice popping through the doorway of the back room. “I was wondering when she’d stop all that racket.” The Joker vocalized shamelessly, a natural habit she’d been coming to find out. Penelope’s original fear slowly drifted into irritation.

“You have a bad habit of catching people by surprise.”

“Oh - well the reaction is the best part!” He meandered his way over to the front of the counter. “Besides yours. You were a little bland this time - do better.” He leaned his forearms on the wooden surface.

“As in there’ll be a next time, I’m assuming?”

“See? Ya get it! These people really need to start catching on. They never seem to take a hint, ya know?”

“How’s that when you apparently kill nearly every person you meet?”

“You watch too much of the news, they only ever show the boring parts. So much goes on behind the scenes that nobody knows about.”

“And why’re you telling me this?”

“Can’t a guy just have a conversation?”

“You’re not just ‘a guy’.”

“And you’re not just a girl, hm?” Something glimmered in her eye. “Oh - come on - try and tell me that I’m wrong. Go on, do it.” Silence followed, but Joker patiently waited. “It takes one to know one, toots.” He clicked his tongue with a wink. “Don’t get it twisted.”

“Why’re you here?”

“I have a proposal.” He stepped back to round the counter. “Proposition?” He rolled his eyes. “An offer.” He jumped up to sit on the counter directly next to her, her head following his every move.

“Which is?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say an offer, cause I’m not really giving you a choice -”

“What do you want me to do?” He paused, eyes rolling over to her with a devious look.

“I want to show you what it means to really have some fun.” His voice took on a darker, more serious tone.

“I don’t think you and I have the same definition of ‘fun’.”

“Well, you won’t know unless you try, hm?” Her eye drifted off in thought.

What is he playing at? She asked herself. Even if she wasn’t being forced, she couldn’t deny her curiosity getting the best of her. She wasn’t sure why, but something about him drew her closer. It made her want to know more about him, why he did what he did. And going through with what he offered may give her some answers, no matter how dangerous it seemed. And what did she have to lose, anyways?

“Midnight at the docks. I’m sure you know that area very well.” He looked at the clock on the wall before hopping off of the counter, slapping the counter with a gloved hand before heading towards the back room. “Cya then, toots!”

Just as he left, Emma walked through the door to see Penelope giving her a confused expression.

“What?” She asked in her own confusion. Penelope just sighed and rested her head on her hand.

As the work day came to a close, a jolt of nerves flooded her abdomen. She left the shop, bidding her goodbye to Emma before turning to make her way to her apartment. The lavender smell that usually provided comfort only made her nauseous with anxiety, deciding against eating even with a growling stomach. It wasn’t purely nerves, however. She was anxious, and dare she say a little excited.

Penelope simply showered, got dressed and plopped onto her bed in a poor attempt to get some sleep before heading out. The soft ticking of her nightstand clock filled the otherwise deafening silence, creating an illusion of it growing louder with each tick.

She wasn’t sure when, but she eventually found sleep. It didn’t hit her until she woke up. She jolted upright, snapping her head towards her clock.

11:27.

Another batch of nerves struck her. She took a deep breath and moved towards her bathroom, reapplying new bandages. As she pressed on the last bit, she made eye contact with herself in the mirror, practically snarling at its reflection before aggressively turning away from it to put her shoes and coat on.

The city was eerily quiet, except for the occasional drunkard and criminal walking the streets. She debated on walking, but being how late it was, decided that driving was safer. It was an ironic statement considering what she was getting herself involved in. Who she was getting herself involved with.

She slowly rolled into the parking lot, seeing a black van already sitting in it. No doubt, it was The Joker. She put the car in park and stepped out, two men she didn’t recognize following suit soon after. One had a bag in his hand, both had rifles hanging around their torsos. The one with the bag stepped forward, and then everything was black.

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Thank you all for the lovely comments! I have many more ideas and one-shots to come! Some are a bit more lengthy than others, be warned!🥰

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Serenity - Chapter 9

Masterlist

Summary - Vulgaria was a remote country, held its own beauty quite unlike others. Everything about it was peculiar. The village, the castle, the people. In the village sat a rather famed tailor shop, and the recluse that was its head seamstress unknowingly caught the eye of a notorious henchman of the barbaric Baron Bomburst. Accepting a tempting offer, what was supposed to be a simple project began to meddle with her already disorganized family, and little did she know her sanity would soon follow.

Reuben decided to stay with Mary as she continued her work, watching her careful movements in curiosity. The baroness' dress hung on a mannequin, nearly finished as Mary made final adjustments. Finally, she straightened it out and fluffed the skirt just a bit, standing back to admire her handiwork while fiddling with her fingers.

Sheer fabric was used for the arms, collar bone area and back. Ruffled fabric lined the shoulders, trailing around the back of the neck. The majority of it was a silver color, not too flashy yet still stuck out in a crowd. It held purple accents, of course, in representation of the Vulgarian colors.

"Do you think she'll like it?" Mary questioned anxiously, glancing at Reuben.

"I think you know my answer."

"'Of course, Miss Mary, she'll love it!'" She mocked him, making sure to flail her arms dramatically as she made her way over to her sketchbook to work on the design for the Baron.

"Well, you're not wrong, Miss Mary." He wiggled a finger behind her ear making her curl away from him and he smirked. "I'll be off to make my rounds, get out of your hair." Mary shot him a look as he made his way to the door. "I'm not sure when I'll be back, but I've told the maid to make sure you eat." Reuben eyed her before shutting the door behind him. Mary rolled her eyes with a bashful smile, sketching away.

She paid no mind to the time, naturally. There were no windows in the room and she was delved too deep into her work to really care to check. Emilia was her only clock. Mary did grow more aware after lunch, knowing she had to prepare herself for dinner.

A knock sounded softly from the door and was cracked open.

"Miss?" Mary whipped her head towards the maid with a nervous expression.

"Time already?" She received a sympathetic smile.

"I'm afraid so." Mary sighed, finding a stopping point in her work to follow her to Reuben's quarters. Her stomach sank at the sight of a new dress that lay across the bed.

"It gets tiring wearing more than one dress a day, no?" She questioned Emilia as she began undoing her dress, taking a deep breath within the short moment of freedom.

"I certainly would think so. At least you're not the one tying and untying all of them." Mary nodded in agreement, slipping out of the dress and into the more elegant one that Emilia held for her. "Your head seems to be healing well." The maid felt her tense slightly. "I could try and conceal it if you wish?"

"No, it's fine." Mary mumbled. "Thank you, though."

"My pleasure, Miss." Emilia finished up and undid Mary's hair, running her fingers through it in thought. She sat her down at the vanity, beginning to twist and braid it.

"Have you ever worked closely with the barons?" Now Emilia sighed.

"Once. Quite the experience. I would rather not do it again."

"Are you able to talk about it?" Emilia shook her head.

"I'm afraid I would speak ill of them if I did." She grabbed a few bobby-pins from the desk, beginning to pin up Mary's hair.

"What would happen if you did?"

"Let's just say you wouldn't be seeing me too often." She messed with her hair a bit more to perfect it. "Your curiosity could land you the same fate, Miss." Emilia noticed the woman's skin pale at the thought. Mary swallowed as the maid placed ornaments in her hair, then clipped a necklace around her neck.

"I worry I'll still be underdressed." Emilia chuckled.

"That's what they want." The maid fiddled with the fabric of Mary's dress, in a way soothing the both of them. "That's why everything seems so bland here. Everything except themselves." Mary looked up at Emilia with an unreadable expression. "Come, now." She patted her shoulders and the woman stood up. "I'm sure the catcher is waiting."

The two of them stepped into the hall and, sure enough, Reuben was making his way towards them. Emilia shut the door behind them and curtsied, then left in the opposite direction.

"Beautiful, as always." He complimented with a smirk, holding his arm out to her to which she took bashfully. As they ventured through the halls he could feel her hold grow more tense, anxious. He could almost feel her aggressive pulse through her hands. "You'll be alright. Remember what I told you."

"Will you be staying?" Mary nearly whispered, moving in closer to Reuben. He felt his chest swell with what almost felt like pride knowing she trusted him enough to feel protected, that he was a source of comfort for her. Then again, he was essentially all she had left to hold on to.

"He asked me personally, so I would assume so, yes. Let alone the fact that he thought you were -" He cut himself off, swallowing. "That you are my lady." Mary had to bite her lip to keep herself from smiling. He began to smile himself when her grip loosened a bit in comfort. Mary's eyes grew curious when they approached a set of glass doors. Reuben held the door open for her and they stepped out into what she assumed was a garden.

It was a decent size, though not incredibly large. It was vibrant compared to the dull interior of the castle, but it was a welcome change. Colorful flowers bloomed wherever she looked, a variety of floral smells pleasantly filling her nose. The golden rays of the setting sun rested on the area, creating an even more alluring scene.

Reuben led her down a few steps, guiding her further into the garden as an awed grin spread across her face. It was calming enough to make her forget what she was dreading in the first place, but then a small opening brought her back to reality.

A medium-sized glass table sat in the center, a set of tasteful chairs sat around it. A larger bottle of wine accompanied by glasses sat upon it, already opened and being drunk by the Baron. The Baroness, however, waited patiently as she looked around at the garden. There was a glint in her eyes, however, when she spotted the two of them entering the court and smiled.

"Bombie?" She nudged her husband and he shot up, boisterously cheering. Mary curtsied while Reuben bowed, as per usual.

"No, no, no! Have a seat, none of that!" He exclaimed happily. Reuben pulled a chair out next to the baroness for Mary before seating himself next to her. She looked over at Mary and offered a warm smile, and she gave a more shy one in return. "Well," The Baron drawled as he leaned in. "How is our seamstress settling in? Well, I hope?"

"Very well, your excellency. I couldn't be more thankful for your hospitality."

"Ah, but it's just an eye for an eye! You're helping us, and as long as you do, you will be a welcome guest here." Servers arrived, pouring wine into their glasses and setting plates with silverware in front of them.

"How is your project coming along, Miss Elise?" The Baroness spoke up, sipping on her wine as she turned towards Mary in keen interest.

"It couldn't be any better, my lady. I actually finished your dress just this morning." The Baroness gasped in excitement, clapping her hands together.

"That was quite quick! Efficient, isn't she, Bombie?" The man in question just chuckled with a nod.

"Fast, yes. But quality is what I am personally looking for."

"You couldn't ask for a finer dress, your excellency." Reuben piped in to support Mary, and it seemed to boost the Baron's confidence in her work. The maids returned with their dinner, laying trays and bowls in front of them with what seemed like enough food for the whole village to Mary.

She glanced around, unsure of their customs and courtesies when it came to dining. She watched the others begin to plate once the Baron began and followed suit, being cautious with how much food she took, and rather eating with her stomach instead of her eyes. Mary had to hold in her already obvious satisfaction as she took her first bite, the food warm and freshly cooked.

They all made small talk throughout the meal, whether it was lighthearted joking or simple questions. She wasn't quite sure what to think of them. She'd heard awful things from the villagers, and then Emilia, yet Reuben seemed to think so highly of them. He always spoke of them with utmost respect, save for a snide remark every now and then, but it happens with everyone. She just wasn't sure if it was out of fear or genuine admiration.

"When should we expect to see your work?" The Baroness curiously asked once they all began to settle from the meal, though Bomburst continued to nibble here and there.

"I've just started on his excellency's, so I would say the day after the next."

"Well, I'm thrilled to have a fresh mind at work. And one with unique talent, I've heard." The Baroness glanced over at Reuben, and in turn Mary looked over at him as well. He quirked a brow at her and she gave a tight lipped smile.

"You've built it up so much, I better not be disappointed when I see it!" The Baron suddenly called out. Mary's skin turned to paper, but she continued with her pleasant facade for appearances. She felt Reuben sneak a hand over hers from under the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"I certainly have no doubts about your talent. If the Child Catcher says your work is a sight to behold, then I trust his opinion." Mary covered his own hand with her other and color gradually returned to her face.

"I suppose you are right, my dear." Bomburst begrudgingly agreed. "He's been with us for many years, you know." He directed at Mary. "I would say he is my most trusted worker here in Vulgaria. I'd take him over the Chancellor or any of those other aristocrats any day." Though it sounded like a compliment, the Baron truly meant it as more of an insult to those in the castle. "So if I see you mistreat him, or if there's any suspicion of it, I will have your head."

Mary feigned a smile at the Baron.

"I wouldn't dream of it, your excellency." He nodded firmly, then slapped his thighs and stood up.

"Well, I think I'll retire for the night. Many things to take care of. I'll be waiting for our little gift, Miss Elise." He poked fun at the seamstress before abruptly leaving the court. The Baroness soon stood to join him, but turned towards the two of them one last time.

"You're more than welcome to visit the gardens if you wish." She then followed after her husband, an elegant skip in her step that Mary found curious.

She released a breath she didn't know she was holding and sat back in her chair, loosening her posture. Reuben held in an amused chuckle.

"Care for a walk?" The man asked as he stood, offering a gloved hand to her. She collected herself for a few moments before she took hold of it and followed him.

The air was but a gentle breeze that calmed her and she took in her surroundings appreciatively. The village never held such gardens, and it felt as if she had been trapped in the castle forever. She could already see herself visiting quite frequently whether it was by herself or with Reuben.

They reached a railing that looked over the smaller mountain the castle sat on, revealing a grandiose view of the countryside not visible to the village. It held rich shades of green in its hills and other mountains, an occasional structure in the distance. The sun had just reached the horizon and Mary couldn't help but stare.

As Reuben hesitantly slid an arm around her waist and pulled her closer she began to realize how peaceful everything truly was in that moment. It was hazy, as if it wasn't truly reality. Never would she have thought she would end up where she was. Not in the castle, not as a seamstress in that castle, and especially not with the man who practically everybody feared most, second to the Baron himself.

"Reuben?" Mary whispered, fearful of breaking whatever it was that was happening.

"Yes?" She hesitated before answering.

"I'm scared to leave this moment."

"Reasonably so." He looked down at her from where they stood. "But there's much more to come."

The Scarred - Chapter 5

Masterlist

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

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

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

“Fer what, exactly?” She sniffed again.

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

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

“What makes you say that?”

“Not to toot me own horn, but tha’s twice I’ve helped ye in what seems lie’ a crisis. I mean,” he threw his arms up in a joking manner. “What in God’s name would ye ‘ave done without me?” The comment made her chuckle and he joined in with her. It was a relief. A much needed one, at that. They carried on with their conversation as they walked with an occasional brief silence, but soon they had been talking as if they were old friends, eventually exchanging numbers.

It took her by surprise that as the weeks passed, he was able to make her feel so comfortable. To make her feel so secure, so safe with him. Even after he killed someone in front of her, claiming it was for her own safety. There was an aura around the man that drew her to him and she wore it like a blanket to keep her calm.

She wasn’t attracted to him, no. He was handsome, charismatic. Charming, even. But what she felt was a deep admiration. As if he was an overprotective brother. And overprotective, he was. She didn’t know if he was just a gentleman or something else, but the slightest aggression towards her sent him over the edge. He wouldn’t fight unless absolutely necessary, but he could get overwhelmingly creative with his vocabulary, to say the least.

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

“Hi?” The woman questioned him in curiosity.

“Who might ye be?” Her eyes widened.

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

“Are ye two -?”

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

“Well, tha’s never stopped anyone.”

“So you two are a thing?”

“Wha -?”

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

“She’s a good friend o’ mine.”

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

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

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

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

“What, am I not allowed to dress nice every once in a while?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Amazing!”

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

“Thanks to Emma, it is.”

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

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

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

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

“Really?” Emma’s mother spoke excitedly.

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

“Needed a break?”

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

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

“As a friend, yeah.” He nodded.

“You trust him?”

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

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

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

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

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