The Joker X Reader - Blog Posts

Can I request all the characters you can do with an s/o who tries to pour bleach into their eyes becuase of something they saw on the internet?

Request: Yes Summery: Reader pours bleach into their eyes when they see something cursed on the internet Characters: Peter parker, Tony stark, Osamu dazai, chuuya nakahara, steve harrington, Eddie munson, Joker, Harley, elvis, tartaglia and beidou. Genre: Big crackheaded shit

A/n: Guess who's alive! sorry for keeping you from this one, I hope you'll enjoy this request, it was lots of fun to write haha! Now enjoy you guys before my social and private life will kick me in the ass again-

Peter parker

this poor boy got the biggest heart attack of his life-

There you two were, just chilling in the compound of the avengers, as you were in the kitchen and him on the couch, when he suddenly heard you scream.

He quickly ran towards you, sliding into the kitchen seeing you wave your eyes dry cause they looked red and and puffy

"WHAT HAPPENED-" He screamed a bit in distress, as he saw the bleach at the side, dumbfounded as you explained it that you saw a cursed meme on your phone.

He takes you to the infirmary of course, as he cleaned the mess up

lets just say from now on your not ever alone with the chemicals around you

Tony stark

After hearing your screams, he quickly ran towards you

"kid what happened-"

He saw the bleach, your puffy red eyes, ur crying face and immediately knew what happened

"Okay why did you pour bleach in your eyes what is wrong with you-"

You explained what happened and he immediately slapped himself in the face

"for this dumb reason you decided to throw bleach in your eyes?"

He'll get you cleaned up

Expect child locks on everything now, something only he can open

Osamu dazai

"Oh belladonna~!" he chirped as you just were blinking constantly, trying to get the burn out of your eyes

He looked at the table where the bleach was still at, and your eyes who are red, puffy and look like they went through hell-

"....YOU DOING A SUICIDE WITHOUT ME-?"

In all seriousness, he would be concerned about what happened that made you do this.

Probably listening and curious what you have seen that did this, search it up and then join you too

now your two idiots with bleach in their eyes

congrats your made for each other

Chuuya nakahara

"WHAT THE-"

He'll scold you like a mad man

"WHY ON EARTH DID YOU DO THAT-"

He loves you to much though, so he would help you get your eyes treated cause of the love he has for you, if it was dazai who did this he would just let him die <3

You will pout at the way he's treating you, which would make him melt a bit and kiss your entire face

Steve harrington

His mother mode got activated, I swear to god.

Towels? Water? Where the fuck did you even see this shit that you decided to just throw bleach In your eyes

"Sweetheart why did you do that-"

"I saw something at the neighbours house that I shouldn't have."

He will just chuckle, scold you for being such an idiot and help you settle down a bit because your eyes burn like hell

don't worry, he still loves you

Eddie munson

we all know the kind of place Eddie lives, not the big and fancy houses that almost every character in the show has

so when you just did the laundry, looking over at the neighbours on accident, seeing a whole...intercourse scene happening in front of your eyes, you couldn't help it but walk back inside

and so the random bleach in the eyes started

Eddie, looking at you like your crazy, slapped the bleach right out of your hands

"Doll what the fuck-"

He helped you clean it up, scolding you for being crazy

"they call me crazy but what about you-"

The Joker

Boy this man would just laugh at you-

no mercy, he ain't the type of man for that man

He would order some of his henchmen to follow in your footsteps, which they can't refuse cause like, either bleach in your eyes or die at the hands of the joker? bleach it is-

he does however have a little soft spot for you, so he'll order frost to go and help you clean up, recover from this stupid decision you made.

Maybe he'll search up the things that traumatised you so much and broadcast it through all Gotham.

Harley quinn

Just like J, she would laugh, only at some point she'll help you herself

when out of sight of the joker, she'll scold you for being such an idiot

"sweetie why?"

You explained the thing you saw online as you saw her shudder

"Yeah that explains why, I see why you did it-" Giggles leave both you and Quinn

She'll help you the best she could, as she smiles at you

"now MAKE OVER TIME-"

Get ready to be dragged into some shopping without paying

Elvis presley

"Mama have you seen my- OMG-"

You scare him To death as he pushed the bleach away, immediatly helping you get rid of the sting

"SATNIN WHAT ON EARTH-"

You explained what happened, That some fan had send you a letter and the pictures with it were so disgusting

Now Elvis didn't like that one bit.

after aiding you, he made sure to track down this person and make sure there will be a nice chat.

"I got you lil mama, I got you"

Tartaglia

"Babe I'm homeeee- what happened to you-?"

You sat there, sniffling as your eyes were burning badly

"I poured bleach in it"

"why-"

"I got flashed by our neighbour-"

Childe was not having that.

"come here darling let me help you."

He was so nice to put you into one of his sweaters, cleaning you up and giving you soft kisses on your forehead, making sure your comfortable before he would have a talk with your neighbours

Nothing you'll know

Beidou

She expected to come home with a smiling lover, but instead, she came home with her lover having bleach on the floor and in your eyes.

"Oh dear what happened?"

You told her you kinda got some gross photo's from some men, and when you got home you wanted to forget those photo's so you bleached your eyes, which was a bad idea.

Beidou shushed you, helped you clean up as she cupped your face, kissing your lips shortly and smiles at you, hiding her anger for your sake

She puts you comfy as she quickly made an excuse to see ningguang, who secretly has a soft spot for you

lets just say you never see or hear from those men again.

The Scarred - Chapter 6

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

“Liam, how many times -“

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

“For a while now.” Her voice was as even as she could make it, unwilling to let him know how terrified she truly was. The man knocked over a salt shaker with a gloved finger. He watched as she stared at him with a blank expression, however he caught a light glimmer behind it and it brought a wide grin to his face.

“You are an oddball, aren’t cha?” He began taking slow steps in her direction.

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

“It’s the scars, yeah?” He motioned to his mouth with a flailing wrist, but her eye stayed locked on his.

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

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

“I suppose I’ve been expecting you.”

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

“You could say that.”

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

“The whole city is on their toes.”

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

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

“Like yourself?”

“Oh, no no no no no, exactly the opposite.” The Joker turned around to face her again. He pulled out a switchblade from his trench coat and flipped it open. “But I prefer creative.” He reached her faster than she could comprehend, cold metal held against her throat with just enough pressure as to not break the skin, but enough to where if she moved it surely would. His other hand pushed her into the door, placed against the top of her rib cage to have some form of control over her breathing. But she remained still. Patient. She looked him in the eye, daring him to do something. A challenge.

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

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

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

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

“Liam, he c - he came -!”

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

“He - he was there, he -!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And?”

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

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

“Until he gets bored of me.”

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

“I’m serious, Liam.”

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

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

“Hm?” Penelope sucked on her lip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The woman sat in the waiting room of an average office, heart pounding against her chest as her leg bounced. Her eye burned into the carpet, lost in thought. She heard a door creak open and peaked to see her therapist waving her inside.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

The Scarred - Chapter 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Three? That’s amazing!”

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

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

Penelope’s eye snapped open, breathing heavily. Her hair stuck to her skin from the cold sweat she was left in. She laid there for a moment or two, collecting herself as best as she could. She imagined wind humming through her window, birds chirping as the sun’s first rays peaked through the clouds. She closed her eye again, imagining a bird.

What kind of bird it was, what it was doing. Perhaps it was a Swallow? It’s boring, brown feathers smooth as they glided and fluttered. The curious black eyes that fidgeted as it cocked and turned its head.

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

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

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

Crime rates continued to slowly increase ever since The Joker showed up. Penelope would be lying, however, if she said she wasn’t intrigued. From what she had seen on the news and heard from around the city, he was a very finicky person. He seemed so clumsy and careless, yet was always the one in control. No one could ever predict what he would do next, keeping everyone on their toes at all times.

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

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

I’m stopping by Gotham Coffee. Want anything?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fridays had always been slower than any other day, and it was on Fridays that they truly realized that time was never on their side.

When they had fun, it flew by. When they wanted something to just be over with, it dragged on. It was cruel. Time was cruel. Life was cruel.

Penelope knew these things. So when the clock sounded at the hour they were out the front door, Emma locking up the shop and tossing Penelope a smile. They gave each other their ‘goodbye’s and ‘have a good weekend’s and made their way back to their respective homes. The city was in chaos, full of eager citizens who all wanted the same thing as Emma and Penelope. Some had already made their ways into their local bars, choosing to drown out their lives or celebrate simply because they made it through another week.

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

A sudden knocking on her door jolted her from her spot, the stick nearly falling from her mouth. She quickly put it out in the ashtray next to her and climbed down to close her window, bare feet skittering across the floor. She stood on her tip-toes to look through the peep-hole, yet no one stood at the door.

She unlatched it and opened it cautiously, peeking through until something caught her eye. She opened the door a bit wider to see a familiar vase sat on top of her welcome mat. Her vase. She noticed something dangling off to the side and delicately picked up the flowers to see what it was, and what she saw made her heart make its way to her throat. A playing card.

A Joker card dangled from the vase.

The Scarred - Chapter 2

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 note was all she could think about the next morning. Her pen tapped on the table relentlessly, the blank page of her journal sitting next to her now soggy cereal.

How did they even get inside? Who was it? Did they go through her belongings?

If they had, they must’ve paid close attention to detail as everything had still been exactly as she had left it. The locks on her door and windows were left undamaged, nothing was broken. The only sign that someone had been in there in the first place was the note. How long could they have been invading her space if all it took was a note to be noticed? The amount of questions that rambled through her head, the amount of ‘unknowns’ and ‘what if’s’ made her increasingly uncomfortable. Not to mention, the message itself had its own essay of questions. She couldn’t even tell if it was heartfelt or sarcastic.

Don’t forget to smile.

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

“Good morning!” The woman sang. Penelope just gave a tight smile, wondering to herself how someone could be so energetic that early in the morning.

After Penelope set down her bag she wandered about the room, touching up some vases and pots here and there while her friend worked in the back room. After fixing the last vase she did a slow spin around, a final look to see if she missed anything before heading over to her spot behind the counter. She flipped her journal open, rubbing her left stump as she stared at the page for a minute or so until the scratching on the page started.

“You keep biting your cheek like that, you won’t have one to bite on.” Emma’s voice piped up. She watched as Penelope suddenly stopped, almost as if she was a child getting caught doing something they knew they shouldn't be doing. Emma just giggled at her and rubbed her shoulder, then made her way over to the door to flip the shop’s sign to ‘open’.

As Penelope watched her she thought back to the night before. Her dinner that was left forgotten. The bowl that was still left shattered on the floor.

The note.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh!” The woman jumped, just barely catching herself from dropping the vase.

A man stood in the center of the shop, looking around casually as if her frightened stature was normal to him. He was of a larger build, dawned in a leather jacket and jeans. The light of the shop reflected off of his bald head, scruff moving with his lips.

“I - I apologize, I couldn’t hear the bell from the back.” Her voice faintly trembled as she gently set down the vase next to her journal. He remained silent, his eyes a fierce shade of green as they connected with her own. “Um -” Her eye darted around the room before gathering the courage to meet his again. He started taking slow steps towards her as she spoke. “Are you wanting to browse or is there something in particular that you’re looking for?”

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

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

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

“The bo -?”

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

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

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

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

The Scarred - Chapter 1

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

“Penny? That you?” A woman’s voice floated over. Footsteps grew louder as they entered the front of the shop until a head of brunette hair poked out. “Hey, you!” She chirped with a bright smile while the other just returned it with tight lips. She walked over to where Penelope now sat down, pencil and journal on the counter in front of her. The woman’s figure practically towered over her because of her poor posture that would surely cause problems in the near future. “Long time no see, stranger.” She jested, gently elbowing her side.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don’t forget to smile.

The Scarred - Prologue

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.

Tick.

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

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

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

Tick.

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

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

“Yes. Nothing.” A sigh reached her ears, her right arm coming up to run over the stump that used to be her left.

Tick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Scarred - 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.

Notes - This story is set prior to the events of The Dark Knight. Some moments may feel OOC, but only because you will see sides of certain characters that weren’t represented in the movie, however I will do my best to stay true to the character and base it off of what is canon. *I do not own any of the content in this franchise other than my own characters!*

Song/Theme - “Set Fire” by Carina Round

Warnings -

Trauma

Flashbacks

Panic attacks

Anxiety

Gore/violence🩸

Aspects of torture

Sexual themes🔥

Smut (MDNI/NSFW) 🔞

Manipulation

Mature language

Chapters -

Prologue Chapter 10

Chapter 1 Chapter 11 🩸🔥🔞

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7 🔥

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

The Scarred - Re-Vamped!

Hello, everyone!

If you’ve read the story The Scarred on @j-wont-stop page, it is actually my account. I logged out and haven’t been able to log in so I created this new one.

It’s been a long time coming, I’m sorry for the wait and I understand if yall gave up on it after a certain amount of time, I would’ve, too, honestly - however! The story is back on its way to completion and I’m excited to share where it goes!

Some things have been tweaked due to minor plot changes, but generally it still follows the same plot! So if you’re ready to stick to it, I’ll be sure to make sure it was worth the wait!

For my Serenity story, it is finished, I’m just making minor adjustments before I post the final parts.

Thank you all so much for your support!