#oh hey its me hallucination-edward

[quandaryqueen]

Think of me fondly

Batman unburied Riddler X Reader

Batman's sidekick find themself spilling like a dam in front of the Riddler.

Just a lil drabble, sitting in my drafts for far too long.

Batman is going to kill me.

You re-emerge from Gotham river with a gasp and an unconscious cane-twirling, riddle-loving crook in your arms. Pulling yourself into the threshold of the docks along with the man, you felt a shiver hit your skin... That's when you realised you've also lost your mask from the escape.

He's going to really kill me...

After disobeying him and running after the Riddler alone, whilst an ongoing shoot out with ricocheting bullets and a crowd of goons, you have now find yourself fucked. Not following orders from Batman is one thing, but not following orders from Batman when he's really angry? It gave out corporal disciplinary actions from parents vibes, you might as well be dead to him after this. It felt dumb, because you were no longer a child.

You were already under scrutiny after breaking a goon's collarbone that one night. You didn't mean to, it was just that he pointed and shot at Batman, what other choice did you have? Not only that, you were dosed with the fear toxin prior to that encounter.

The antidote did its work to pull you out of the hallucinations induced by the Scarecrow's recent concoction, but it left a dent in your mind. The things you've seen during those suffocating moments, you remember wanting to take a plunge at the building you were on.

All this cape-twirling, cable-swinging, building-jumpings, crime-fightings... Its effect on the body and mind you see in Bruce, you were scared he was going to die and you wouldn't be able to stop it. You didn't have to break the lackey's collarbone when he shot at Bruce, but you were scared that he would hit him, kill him.

Huh... Now you see why Alfred insists you take psychological evaluation. Maybe you aren't in stable state of mind to be doing this right now.

In your arms is an unconscious Edward Nygma, whom you have dove in an active bullet crossfire in between his men in green, the police and Penguin's men, who have held him captive for double-crossing them... Something Batman had barked at you not to do and yet you did, hence why you're a dripping mess and in possession of a Riddleman.

"Hey," you pat Riddler's cheek to wake him up. You pat him again. Nope, not even a twitch. You repeat the process, barely holding back the smack that had his eyes shooting up.

"OW!" He whines, rubbing his reddened cheek. "What the hell is that for?!"

"To know if I will be bothered to perform CPR."

The Riddler's jaw-dropped at the audacity. "You know you could have just listened to my breathing, right?" And besides, CPR is an outdated practice.

"Whatever, you're awake. I'm taking you to Commissioner Gordon--" wait... Fuck.

In a desperate attempt to cover up any semblance of your identity, you threw your cape over your head.

I am so dead.

"Oh honey, as if I didn't see your face up close already. Give it up." You can practically hear the eyeroll from his tone. "And besides, I don't even know you. You're not that interesting under the cowl."

Before you can ponder about that, he then asks,

"How old are you, by the way?"

You furrowed your brows at him. Why the hell does he wanna know?

He rolls his eyes after reading your way expression. "I'm not trying to figure out what your identity is, I'm just genuinely curious." You told him. "Huh... Younger than I thought. Tell me, is Batman really employing children?"

"You and I are the same age!" You unintentionally snapped, leading you to slack out of guilt.

God, how would you know if he wouldn't tell on you?

"You wouldn't tell... Would you?" You were fearful to meet his gaze. This aren't the types of questions you can just ask, it felt humiliating more than ever. It was obvious that--

"No. That wouldn't be as interesting. In fact, I find it insulting that your idiocy had outed you when I could have found it out myself, now that would be satisfaction at its finest-- but it wouldn't particularly benefit me, these games aren't so exciting anymore when the mystique of the mask is lifted and revealed...." He continues on and on about it and all you could do was to stare at him with squinted eyes. "Besides, it feels anticlimactic to find that the little brat following Batman around isn't as interesting as he is, I mean, no offense but I don't really see your face anywhere, unlike your big papa Bruce Wayne--"

"What?" For the first time, you looked up at him with wide eyes.

Edward laughs at your expression, oh how priceless. You think that he wouldn't have Batman's identity figured out when he was practically everywhere?

"See, this is why I didn't recognise you at all, you are a nobody without the mask, as to Bruce Wayne....."

He goes off the tangent again, as you discreetly reach for a throwing knife in your utility belt. He knows of Bruce's identity, that can't be good. He can very easily do something about that intel that will ruin the Batman... And you can't have that.

".... Now it wouldn't be fun if the others knew, now would it?"

He wouldn't tell? At all?

His statement had you slowly retracting the blade in your belt, all the while, he continues rambling, which only sounded nothing but gibberish to you. Your own thoughts were racing and you couldn't keep up with them, nor Edward's declarations.

Though, you managed to croak out, "How long have you--?"

"Since the first encounter. It was easy, really. Especially when you have abundance of time and been reading the same magazine in Arkham." Edward looks over you, finding you stiff and staring a hole to your shoes, figure still dripping from the dive.

What could you possibly thinking, surely you weren't hurt at the fact that he called you a nobody... Right? He's not the type to usually apologize for his bluntness not did he recognise the fact that he was hurtful with his words, but your expression had him feeling sorry for you and he was confused about it. Maybe it's the fact that he sees a person underneath the cowl instead of the obnoxious little tag-along he perceives them to be. He never saw H/N's face flush and eyes dulled and down, the ever-so persistent fist thrower slumped, hugging their knees to their chest like a little kid.

This person (who claims to be his age) who had dove head-first to an active shooting grounds, kidnap him from his kidnappers and swam to get away from it all... Saved his life, he begrudgingly supposes.

"You're not... Sad because I called you a nobody... Right?" It's ridiculous because he has called you worse during regular battles. He has picked up a thing or two from locker room talk during high school.

"No?" You squinted at him. "I've heard worse." And why would he be concerned all the sudden?

"Then what's wrong? Aren't you gonna take me to Commissioner Gordon?"

"I'll... Just stay here for a bit..."

Before Edward can respond, you clipped a handcuff on his wrist and cuffed the other on yours. Just a guarantee he won't escape as you take a break from everything, Edward wasn't pleased at all.

"It's just that... I wish everything would come to a halt for a moment, you know? Everything is so... Fast paced and eventful and it's tiring," you disregard Edward and his complaints whilst he tries to find his way around the handcuffs, tugging and picking at it, as you resign yourself to sigh and stare idly at the rushing waters from the dockyard. "It's... Vigilante life for ya. I live to save lives of others. But sometimes I can't save myself.

"Just yesterday, Batman... I guess you now know him as Bruce, was almost killed if I didn't intervened and because of that, I almost killed someone. Then the day before that, I almost died of overdose from Scarecrow's fear gas and I don't know, it messed me up... Increased some brain chemicals, so I guess I have some sort of imbalance. And just... Everything is so overwhelming."

At this point, Edward had stopped trying to tug his wrist out of the cuff. Instead, he just stares at you with a glare. Jesus fucking damn it, there you are unloading emotional luggage while dripping wet, in a cold, windy night. For once he was surprised with himself in how he can keep his mouth shut for this while. He would have taken over, but he listened somehow. Even when you stopped speaking, he didn't try to fill the silence with some babbling. He noticed how relieved you are to be soaking in some sense of tranquility for once, as you closed your eyes and feel the cold air nip against your wet skin.

He supposes he has gone soft for the Bat's sidekick, the annoying little thing. He liked getting to fight you, how you were quick on your feet, on your wit, how sharp you are. He fucking hates it, but he will admit that you're smart enough to resort to simple means to defeat him and his riddles instead of standing around to listen to his villain monologue. He hates you... But he is also fond of you.

Well fuck, he may be an asshole but he's an asshole with a heart.

"I'm not even supposed to be here right now. Bruce told me to lay low for a while..." So imagine just how much you were piling on against him. "I didn't listen, clearly and now I'm unloading emotional baggage on some guy who saw my face for the first time."

"Gotham's hero, lady's and gentlemen," he dryly remarks. But he supposes not all heroes wear capes, this hero happens to be keeping the lid of their sanity as tight as a jar of pickles, not all of them are models of mental health. Why would anyone take a look at the Batman and his sidekick and go, 'ah yes, these two are definitely sane.'

Oh and the nerve of you to call him "some guy", he is clearly more than that he always makes sure... But he didn't speak of it. A part of him wants to keep you talking, or at least, keep you. With his usual antics of speaking up, he knows it would snap you out of whatever reverie you are in and wheel his ass back in Arkham and so he kept his usual self at below the average.

You sighed. "Did you know how much of life I missed? Loved ones birthdays, important events that they're mad at me, favourite bands and artists' concerts, all that— my own birthdays... I don't want to say it out loud because I know Bruce had it worst and I don't want to seem... I don't want to come across as... I..." You struggled to put it into words, the dread of these words that were locked away bursts your thoughts and made its way pass your lips, you'd think you would be shun with thinking such a thing. "I don't know... That I'm not loving the hero life?"

Though half-baked, it finally felt good to let it out. Not only that, you weren't greeted with the sight of the disgust you were envisioning in your head, the reason why you often brushed these thoughts aside. Edward only sat attentive and understanding, he can't blame you for feeling that way at all.

"There's nothing wrong to feel that way."

"You really think so?" You find yourself stunned that Edward "The Riddler" Nygma would get you of all people, let alone, for him to be the first person you'd confide in about the long-held thought.

He nodded in response. You clearly need a friend who understands you.

You sink at the feeling of relief. In hindsight, you just made a friend out of one of Gotham's rogues. Taking a breather, you unlocked your cuffs and stood.

"Right. I've talked your ear off," you pocket the handcuffs and took a communication device from your belt. Pressing a few buttons, static emits from this device and Edward braces himself.

"Where are you?" A deep voice from the comm link rumbles from your very core. You didn't know whether you shivered from the cold, Gotham air and the wetness of your form or the mere effect of Bruce.

You cleared your throat. "The docks. I lost him."

Edward's eyes widened. Ohohoho, really now?

"Stay there."

With that, the link ended and you untense in relief. Turning over Edward, you gave him a look.

"Not a word. I'm letting you go," That should make you equal. "Stay out of trouble."

He scoffs. Does he look like he'd abide by that? But then again, laying low for awhile is a plan.

"Toodles~!" He skips off.

After his departure, you were anticipating the feeling of regret to creep in... It didn't. Instead, you were looking forward to seeing him again. Just what was that encounter was something you could have never ever foreseen, but then again, he is an Enigma.

#edward nygma #riddler x reader #dc x reader #edward nygma x reader #dc x you #edward nigma #batman unburied riddler x reader #batman unburied

[hallucination-edward]

#oh hey its me hallucination-edward #twilight #twilight saga #twilight meme #hallucination-edward memes #bella swan #charlie swan #new moon

[headinthestaticsky]

Frozen Within the Night Wind: Jasper Hale x Fleur Swan, Chapter 3

None of the characters in Twilight belong to me, All rights go to Stephenie Meyer!

"And with one kiss

You inspired a fire of devotion that lasts for twenty years

What kind of man loves like this?"

What Kind of Man by, Florence and the Machine

POV: Fleur's

I suddenly wasn't frozen anymore, the world was no longer dark. Everything looked crystal clear now, the dust and pollen flying in the air was so much clearer now. I slowly sat up from where I was laying and looked around. Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper all looked at me apprehensively, uncomfortable even. I must've had a deadly look on my face.

"You were too late weren't you?" I asked.

They all looked at each other, sadness had replaced the worry on their face.

"We came as soon as Alice had her vision, but it was too late to get the venom out of you," Rosalie explained.

"I'm sorry love," Jasper mumbled.

"Why are you apologizing... none of this is your fault," I said

"I could've gotten you to stay a little longer...I could've driven you back home, I could've..."

"Jazz...this was going to happen eventually...the man that changed me said Victoria had been watching me for months... It was going to happen either way...I guess it was just meant to be now. I am not mad at any of you... it's Victoria I'm pissed at we're going to find her ass."

"You're damn right we are," Emmett said he cracked his knuckles, a smirk was on his face.

"How long have I been out?"

"Two days."

"Oh god... dad must be freaking out."

"Don't worry... we said you went on a trip with Jasper for a couple of weeks. We said you forgot your phone so that's why you weren't calling." Rosalie explained

"Oh...thanks," I said, I started to clear my throat, it was becoming quite...dry.

"I think we better take you on your first hunt," Jasper said.

"Yeah... we better go."

I ran out of the house, leaving everyone else in the dust. When I got to the woods it took a few seconds before Jasper, Rosalie, and Emmett could join me.

"You sure are fast darlin."

"Damn short stack gives us a chance."

"...I have no idea how I did that," I said, I was in shock.

"It makes take you a bit to get your skills under control." He explained.

"Okay Fleur... close your eyes and listen to your surroundings," Rosalie explained, her voice was soft and calm.

I closed my eyes and had begun to listen.

"What do you hear?" Jasper asked.

"An owl, a deer, maybe a mountain lion too." Before they could ask me anything else I took off in the direction of the deer. When I eyed it I got down, hiding from it. I heard the others get behind me, watching what I do. Then I heard a mountain lion roar at it, the deer had looked up at me. I lunged toward the mountain lion and bite into its neck. When I was done I looked up, they looked confused to me.

"What?" I said, wiping blood off my lower lip.

"Why didn't you go for the deer... it was a way easier target," Jasper asked.

"It looked at me... right in the eyes... I felt bad." I said.

"Well Jasper there is one thing you don't have to worry about.... she still has a big heart," Rosalie said, smiling softly.

"I'm glad that's one thing you didn't lose," Jasper replied, he smiled at me.

The wind had blown, and I smelt something much more appetizing. I lowered my head and closed my eyes... trying to ignore the smell wafting toward me. My heart broke...there was no way I could be around dad right now.

"Hey... we better go," Rosalie said.

I collected myself and looked back up at them.

"Don't worry... it's fine, it's not even that bad...I want to go back to the house though." I requested.

"Yeah... no problem let's go," Jasper said

It didn't take very long to make it back to the house, when we got there Carlisle, Esme, Dean, and Alice were waiting for us.

"Hello Fleur... how did the first hunt go?" Carlisle inquired.

"You should've seen her Carlisle...she pounced on that mountain lion no problem," Emmett said.

"She has pretty go self-control too," Rosalie added.

"I was pretty impressed, usual if a newborn gets a whiff of human blood they would go after it immediately," Jasper explained.

"I'm so awesome right?" I joked.

Everyone in the room had laughed, I noticed someone was missing still.

"Hey, where's Edward?" Suddenly my head shot back and my eyes rolled to the back of my head. It seemed like I was flying through the city, and then suddenly, I focused on my dad's house. "I" then made it into Bella's room, I saw both Edward and Bella laying on her bed. I then flew back out of the room, coming back the same way I flew through the city. My head and eyes returned back to normal.

"Nevermind...I found them." I said.

"What the hell was that short-stack?" Emmett asked, bewilderment was in his voice.

"It was like I tracked him...It was like a flew...I followed a path and it led me right to him."

"You have a rare gift, Fleur," Carlisle stated.

"I need a bit more of an explanation..." I said.

"You're a tracker... you're able to find anyone you think about, you can find where they're going by visions, you can also discover what their plans are, and the exact path they're going to take," Carlisle explained.

"So it's kinda like my dreams then?"

"Yes exactly."

"But how would I be able to do that... I was still human?"

"Sometimes humans can have a slight ability... and when they become a newborn, that power is magnified."

"Oh..."

"Well, she can do something else too," Rosalie added.

Jasper looked at her in confusion. "What is it?"

"Uh...you know when you said you kept seeing me when you guys were separated because of Edward?" Rosalie asked.

"Yeah?"

"Well...She was having dreams of the same things you were seeing." She finished. Jasper's head whipped back to mine, his eyes were wide in shock.

"You never told me about that."

"I forgot..." I said an innocent look was on my face.

"So you can create hallucinations as well... and from the sounds of the ones you created before, they're powerful," Carlisle said.

"This...is a lot to take in." I said.

"Hey, we will help you out in any way we can love." Jasper comforted.

"Thank you, all of you."

"Of course honey, we will all be here whenever you need us." Esme stated.

"Guess we'll have to wait for that wedding huh? At least until I won't want to eat all of my guest." I joked.

Suddenly another smell had wafted it, this one, however, made me feel sick to my stomach.

"Edward, I know something is up with her...where is she!?" Bella's voice ran through the house.

"Bella, just wait a second!" I heard Edward pleaded.

"Great... this is the last thing you need right now." Rosalie grumbled.

The door had busted open, Bella looked at me in shock. She stared right into my red eyes.

"What. the. hell... what is this!?

#jasper hale x reader #rosalie hale #jasper hale #jasper hale x oc #jasper whitlock #jasper whitlock x oc #jasper cullen #emmett cullen #carlisle cullen #esme cullen #alice cullen #edward cullen #bella swan #twilight saga #twilight

[useless-blog-dont-bother]

NYGMOBBLEPOT THE MUSICAL - THE SCRIPT

Disclaimer: I swear I’m not on crack. It’s just that I write this when I desperately want and need to sleep but just can’t. And of course I don’t own any of the songs, nor the characters. And no it’s not the regular writing style, it’s written like a script.

PART 1

SCENE 1 ��� STREETS OF GOTHAM

The streets of Gotham are busy as usual. Some say the hectic streets of this city are a literal madhouse. But those people obviously never set foot in a real madhouse and especially not in the hell reserved for the criminally insane: ‘Arkham Asylum’. And yet they’re complaining.

GOTHAMITES: There’s a hole in the world like a great black pit,

And the vermin of the world inhabit it,

And its morals aren’t worth what a pig could spit,

And it goes by the name of Gotham…

At the top of the hole sit a privileged few,

Making mock of the vermin in the lower zoo,

Turning beauty into filth and greed…

And if you’ve sailed the world and seen its wonders,

You’ll know the cruelty of men is as wondrous as Peru,

But there’s no place like Gotham!

A kid, her backpack on one shoulder, is on her way home after a long day at Gotham High. A grown man pushes her and snatches her backpack.

KID (on the ground): Ugh, not again!

That kid is actually lucky, being robbed isn’t the worst thing that could have happened there. But it is the third time this month that she loses her bag. Only in Gotham.

SCENE 2 – OUTSIDE THE ICEBERG LOUNGE

Two men are getting out of a club called the Iceberg Lounge. A limousine is waiting for them.

EDWARD (about to open the limousine door): I’ll get the door!

OSWALD (going in the limousine): Oh, you’ll get much more!

BOTH: Either way we can’t go wrong…

With how shamelessly and how famously we’re both just getting along…

The smallest of the pair takes his partner’s hand and eagerly pulls him inside the limousine.

BOTH: We’re get, get, getting, get, get, getting, getting along!

OSWALD: So, what have you planned? I’m confident you didn’t make me close the lounge and got us the limo for nothing.

EDWARD (talking fast): We haven’t had date night in a while so I thought we, you know, we might as well make it a bit fancier than usual since it hasn’t happened in days, in weeks actually because of the lounge and the occasional robberies and the meetings and –

OSWALD (amused): Slow down, Ed.

EDWARD (blushing as he adjusts his glasses): I – Sorry, I –

OSWALD: No need to apologize, nor explain. I know how that brain of yours can be sometimes.

EDWARD: Hey!

OSWALD: You know I didn’t mean that in an offensive way. And you know I love everything about you. From your schemes to escape the GCPD to your way of fidgeting with your glasses when you’re nervous.

EDWARD: Everything? Even the riddles?

OSWALD: Especially the riddles.

EDWARD (chuckling): Now you’re just lying to make me feel better, Oswald.

OSWALD (smiling): What? No, I’d never do that.

SCENE 3 - RESTAURANT

Oswald and Ed are sitting at the best table of an expensive restaurant.

OSWALD: You really weren’t kidding when you said ‘fancier’.

EDWARD: Only the best for you.

OSWALD (resting a hand on Ed’s hand): For us, dear.

EDWARD: He’s touching my hand…

OSWALD: He’s looking kind of funny…

EDWARD: Wait, he knows I’m gonna propose?

OSWALD: Is this because I touched his hand?

EDWARD: Well, I guess…

OSWALD: Well, I guess…

BOTH: I’ll just go with it…

EDWARD: The very first time I saw you,

A very long time ago,

I have to admit,

I liked you a bit,

But I didn’t want you to know.

OSWALD: When we were roommates,

All I could do was stare,

And I can’t refute,

You looked pretty cute,

Tying that guy to a chair.

BOTH: I guess we’re doing this,

See that look in your eyes,

How could I resist?

It’s meant to be because we’re allies,

Time to move in for a kiss,

Just go with it and don’t ask why,

I guess we’re doing this…

WAITER: Are you, sirs, ready to order? Oh, I’m awfully sorry. It seems I’ve forgotten to give you the wine card earlier. I’ll be back in a second with it.

OSWALD: Well he couldn’t have had a worst timing. Where were we?

EDWARD (standing): I – I have to go to the restroom.

OSWALD (winking): Want me to accompany you?

EDWARD (laughing as he turns red): N – No, I’ll be back in a second.

SCENE 4 – MEN’S RESTROOM

Edward is muttering to himself while frantically washing his hands. As he looks up at his reflection in the mirror, Edward gasps.

THE RIDDLER: Long time no see, right?

ED: I thought I was done with you.

THE RIDDLER: If you really wanted to be done with me, you shouldn’t have taken those pills earlier.

ED: It was to help me with –

THE RIDDLER: Yes, I already know. Too nervous to propose to Pengy. We share a brain, you know?

ED: No, we don’t share a brain. You’re a figment of my imagination, an hallucination due to pills I should definitely throw away.

THE RIDDLER (resting a hand on Ed’s shoulder): Oh please, I’ve been in your head way before you started taking those pills. And I’m much more than a mere hallucination. I’m you and I want to help you, to help us.

ED (adjusting his glasses): Do you think he knows?

THE RIDDLER: Well, you did force him to close the lounge for the night and dragged him to Gotham’s fanciest restaurant. And I’m sure he’s aware that it’s been exactly a year since he’s been released from Blackgate.

ED: Oh crud…

THE RIDDLER: Also, another dead giveaway. Just look at us.

ED (dabbing his forehead with his handkerchief): Yes, I know.

THE RIDDLER (mockingly): We look like we just ran a marathon! I’ve never seen us sweat that much. And, Christ, quit blushing each time he looks at you.

ED: You’re really not helping.

THE RIDDLER (with a sly smile): You’re right. But maybe -

ED: Don’t even think about it.

THE RIDDLER: You really think the stuttering mess that you are is gonna be able to pop the question?

Ed briefly stares in the mirror before looking down. The Riddler’s smile grows bigger.

THE RIDDLER: I thought so.

ED: It’s such a bad idea…

THE RIDDLER: It’s a brilliant idea. Let me help you, Ed. We want the same thing, we’re the same. I’m just, well, stronger.

All your nerdiness is ugly,

All your stammering’s a chore,

Your tics and fidgets are persistent,

And your charm is non-existent,

Fix your vibe then fix some more.

ED: But -

THE RIDDLER: Oh, everything about you is so terrible,

Oh, everything about you makes me wanna die.

ED: Jesus Christ…

THE RIDDLER: So, don’t freak out,

And don’t resist,

And have no doubt,

If I assist,

You will be more chill.

ED: Alright. But you better not mess this up. I -

THE RIDDLER: Don’t worry, Eddie. Penguin’s wrapped around our finger anyway. He would never say no.

Ed sighs as his doppelgänger disappears. He is about to walk up to the door but he decides to glance one last time at his reflection. He smirks. The Riddler has taken over.

EDWARD: Let’s get to work.

#gotham #oswald cobblepot #edward nygma #nygmobblepot #nygmobblepot the musical

[lafiametta]

So I asked @arcticelves​ to pick between Jopson/Little as barista/coffee addict and Jopson/Little as teacher/single parent (her response, unsurprisingly, was utterly delightful), but then it got me thinking about the scenario she didn’t do, and I just couldn’t help myself, you know? I also should admit to drawing a fair degree of inspiration from @keyofmgy​’s wonderful Goodsir/Silna coffee shop AU, On Infatuation (A Case Study). (Does that make what follows fanfiction of fanfiction? Maybe so... the mind boggles!)

Edward Little was definitely not a coffee addict. 

Admittedly, he always had a cup or two in the morning, before he left for work, and then there was his late morning pick-me-up, often followed by a mid-afternoon refill, and sometimes, on those nights when he knew he would be up for hours with a project deadline, he would stop in at his local coffeehouse for a triple espresso, made as hot and strong as humanly possible. But he wasn’t a true addict, not by a long shot. It wasn’t as if he absolutely required it to function and he could have given it up at any point, if he was forced to. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t a problem, not really. 

Or, rather, it hadn’t been a problem – at least not up until a month ago, when Edward realized his simple habit was beginning to blossom into something that might well resemble an addiction. And ironically, it wasn’t a need for caffeine that was driving his compulsion, but instead a pair of startling blue-green eyes and a dimpled smile warmer than any mug of fresh-brewed dark roast.

He had been on his way home one Friday night, thinking he would run by his usual place for a half-pound of ground Colombian and a flat white, only to discover it shuttered, closed for long-term renovations. A quick search on his phone had turned up a coffee shop just a few blocks over – Franklin’s – and while he had no idea how good their coffee was, it couldn’t be worse than heading home without decent provisions for the next morning. Inside, it had looked like a typical Friday night scene: a scattering of patrons on overstuffed sofas, chatting or reading as they sipped their drinks, as well as a contingent of student-types, staring furiously into the glow of their MacBooks. There had also been some kind of open mic event going on; near the back, a young dark-haired woman was perched on a stool, singing and strumming a ukulele. She wasn’t half-bad, and Edward noticed that she seemed to have a fair number of clear admirers among her audience, including a curly-haired guy with glasses who looked thoroughly entranced.

Edward must have been distracted enough by what was going on with the musician that he didn’t turn to face the counter until he was right in front of it, and then he found himself incapable of moving at all. 

It wasn’t just that the barista standing across from him was insanely good-looking – even though he was – or that he was sporting the most adorable pink-cheeked grin or that his ink black, deeply-parted hair was falling across his brow in a casual, yet completely devastating way.  

No, it was really the combination of all those things – along with the fact that his eyes seemed to flash with a sudden spark of curiosity as their gazes crossed – that caused Edward’s pulse to suddenly jump upwards, even as the rest of his body remained frozen into place. 

“Hey... what can I get for you?” 

Edward’s mind unfolded into a dazzling array of responses, few of which were decent enough to utter in public, much less to a complete stranger. It was impossible to know what to say, until he realized he needed to say something – and for god’s sake stop staring – before he began to look like the stupidest, or possibly the creepiest, guy on the planet. He must have managed to mumble out something reasonable, because suddenly he was reaching for his wallet and handing over his card, although he made sure to stuff a few dollars in the tip jar, too. Even the time he stood to wait for his order seemed far too brief – mostly because he got to watch the barista at work – and in what seemed like the blink of an eye he found himself back out on the sidewalk, a half-pound bag of beans in one hand and a steaming flat white in the other, his name written in jaunty capital letters across the side of the cup. He didn’t bother to wait until he got back to his car to take a sip.

It was probably the best flat white he had ever tasted. 

A post-work visit to Franklin’s soon became a regular part of Edward’s daily routine, at first just involving to-go orders and take-out cups, but eventually progressing to longer stays where he settled in with a ceramic mug on one of the couches by the window. (He had once tried going by in the morning on his way to work, and found that not only was the gorgeous barista not on shift, there was apparently an entirely new crew behind the counter, overseen by a lanky, wavy-haired supervisor, who seemed oddly fastidious about his clothes and in keeping his white knit sweater as free as possible from coffee stains.) In time, Edward got to recognize the regulars: not just the ukulele player and her number one fan, but also the couple who came in and read quietly together, and while it struck him as a bit of a May-December pairing, the two men looked to be entirely devoted to each other. 

And then there was the barista. 

Edward did his best to play it cool, and hoped that he wasn’t coming across like some kind of weirdo stalker. When he went up to order at the counter, he kept it brief; he didn’t want to pressure the guy into chatting, especially if he wasn’t interested. Besides, he reasoned, only a jerk would try to hit on someone when they were at work. It was true that the barista always had a smile for him, a mischievous little quirk of the lips that never failed to set Edward’s heart racing, but it was just as possible that he might be like that with everyone, and Edward the poor loser who couldn’t tell the difference between mutual interest and good customer service.

Even so, he could tell he was beginning to develop an addiction to this place, not just for the coffee – which, admittedly, was fantastic – but for the man who made it for him, whose face he come close to memorizing after nights of careful study, but whose name he had yet to learn. 

One evening, after ordering his regular at the counter, he went to drop off his work bag in an open seat, only to hear his name and drink being called out over the shriek of the espresso machine.

“Double cappuccino for Edward...?”

He had picked it up and was half-way back to his couch when he realized that he must have taken the wrong order, as someone else’s name was written across the side of his ceramic mug. The dark-haired barista gave him a quick glance as he approached the counter, and Edward did his best to ignore the fluttering sensation already starting to take hold in the depths of his stomach. 

“Sorry,” he said, sliding the mug and saucer back onto the counter. “I think this belongs to someone else.”

The barista grinned, two perfectly curved dimples forming just past the corners of his mouth. His blue-green eyes seemed to twinkle – although it was entirely possible that by this point Edward was simply hallucinating by allowing his own personal fantasies to crowd out reality.

“No, that’s definitely yours.”

“But...” Edward began to protest, mostly out of confusion, “that’s not my name.” He pointed to the side of the mug, where a single word was written out in a familiar all-caps script: TOM. 

“I didn’t say it was your name,” the barista replied, as he bit down playfully against his bottom lip. “Because it’s mine.”

“Oh,” was all Edward was capable of replying. He had played out this moment – or at least ones similar to it – in his head so many times, and in all those scenarios, he had always known exactly what to do and the right words to say, all of which had now fled his mind entirely.

“And here...” Tom – and honestly, Edward thought, who could imagine a more perfect name than that? – turned the mug halfway around, revealing a line of numbers written in dark ink. “That’s my number. In case you ever want to hang out some time.”

“Yeah,” Edward muttered, and then began to nod vigorously as the realization of what was happening overtook him. “Absolutely. That sounds great.” He felt a warm, unprompted smile begin to form on his lips. “We could go get coffee or something.”

Tom turned that brilliant blue-green gaze directly on him and he laughed, his teasing grin wide and bright enough to rival the mid-day sun in all its glory.  

“Anything but that.”

#the terror amc #the terror #fanfiction #edward little #thomas jopson #jopson x little #au #arcticelves #keyofmgy #joplittle

[erizee]

Frozen Fire

Happy Halloween to @kvaasiir !! (hey i managed to post today! :D)

I hope it’s okay that I only wrote nygmobblepot and hallucination ed and not one of your other ships/prompts.

@gothambuddyexchange 

ao3 link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12577860

(the story is under the cut)

A commotion outside of Oswald's office ruined the more or less peaceful negotiation he'd had. Fortunately they hadn't breached a sensitive topic yet, just some minor details about the licenses, but Oswald was annoyed nonetheless. What good was being the king of Gotham's underworld once again when his security couldn't even handle keeping the unnecessary noise out?? It wasn't like it was always perfectly silent in his office, with it being inside a club and all, but this was just excessive.

Annoyed, Oswald excused himself from the room. As soon as he reached the main room of the Iceberg Lounge, the source of the noise was apparent. There was gas all across the room. A green-ish brown gas that was spreading quickly towards the place Oswald stood.

Panicked, Oswald ran for the exit, but before he could even come close to reaching the door, a hand on his shoulder stopped him from moving any further.

"Oh no, Mister Penguin, you won't leave this easily. I made a special batch just for you." Oswald spun around to see who was talking, but the only thing he could see was the gas that was being sprayed into his face.

Oswald raised his hands in a futile attempt to protect himself, but the gas already clouded his vision and he could smell its sweet odor.

Suddenly everything went quiet. Oswald slowly dropped his arms and looked around, cautiously grabbing the gun hidden in his pocket. The room, that had been filled with screams and panic just seconds ago was quiet, the air deathly still. Instead of a hundred people with varying levels of intoxication dancing or talking, the room was empty. The exit, the entrance to his office and even the bar with his most priced possession was gone. The walls were wooden and encased a much smaller room than they should.

Oswald wasn't at the Iceberg Lounge anymore. But where was he?

Cautious not to make any sound that might aggravate his attacker, Oswald took a few uncertain steps further into the room. A fireplace bathed the walls in soft, warm light. There was an old, but not ancient wooden table full of luxurious food in the middle of the room. Oswald knew where he was. Despite the imminent danger and the fear of being attacked, Oswald couldn't help but feel at home. How could he not, he had lived in the mansion for months after all.

"Hello, Oswald." Oswald spun around, instantly recognising the familiar voice. How could he not remember his one love's and worst enemy's voice? Just as he expected he was met with the familiarly wide smile of Edward Nygma. What had once let his heart flutter pleasantly and what had once been a source of trust and friendship now only let him feel terror and betrayal accompanied by an agonising unease.

Oswald raised his gun and aimed it at his enemy's chest. Ed didn't react. He just kept smiling. The view was disconcerting but at the same time oddly reassuring. Like he could tell this man all his secrets, open his heart to him and not have it ripped apart, but met with the same love and trust he couldn't help but feel. Ed's smile was so warm, so full of kindness. Oswald had almost forgotten what it looked like.

"I cooked dinner for us. I know you don't want me to, but I thought for this special occasion it would be nice." Ed gestured towards the table and pulled one of the two chairs back for Oswald to sit on. Oswald was still wary, but something about Ed's smile, his words, the athmosphere in the room and the orange light from the fireplace loosened the tension in Oswald's body and mind. He let himself be guided to the chair and sat down, one hand still tightly gripping his gun.

Ed sat down across from him. Despite the length of the table, somehow Ed sat close enough to reach out for Oswald's hand, the one that wasn't holding the gun, and gently take it. There was something metallic on Ed's hand but Oswald couldn't look down, or away from Ed's smile. He hadn't looked at him like that since that night at the sirens, when Butch had almost killed him. "Oswald, I know we had our.. differences in the past, but I want you to know that the past two years, especially this last one" -Ed chuckled and Oswald felt his insides burn at the sound- "have been the best of my life. Living with you, spending my life with you.. there's nothing that could ever make me happier."

Oswald's breath hitched and his heart started fluttering violently. Ed couldn't possibly mean- "I love you, Oswald, more than anyone else in my life. When you proposed to me that day, you made me the happiest man in all of Gotham. I'm so glad we managed to settle our senseless fight." Oswald's heart ached with want. What wouldn't he do to have this? Ed's love, having a life with him? He would do anything to be with Ed again, even just as friends. He was ready to give up his empire, his dignity, even his life.

But he couldn't. Ed hated him, had been ever since he had made the mistake of killing someone Ed had deemed worth living. It was no use to want something he could never have.

During the last months, he had successfully suppressed all the guilt and regret he felt and burried it underneath his gloat over his success and his hate for what Ed did. But now, seeing what he could have had if only he hadn't killed that woman, or even if he had attempted in any way to repair what he had broken.. it was a new kind of torture, one that ripped Oswald apart from the inside.

Oswald opened his mouth, to say... what he wanted to say he wasn't sure. I love you, I'm sorry, forgive me, we can't, I hate you for what you did, I love you.

Before Oswald could even finish forming the words, the scene shifted dramatically. The flames in the fireplace flared up, all domestic feeling to them lost to violence and anger. The food on the table was rotting rapidly, a white pelt slowly covering the meat. The hand on Oswald's own became cold, ice cold, too cold to touch, but Oswald couldn't move away. His whole body was frozen in place, albeit in a very different way than Ed was.

Tiny blue spots started appearing on Ed's face and hands. Ice crystals were building on his skin, snowflakes covering his lashes. Tiny tremors moved through his hands, like his body was trying to warm itself up, but he didn't move away.

All Ed did was smile warmly, in stark contrast to the ice slowly engulfing his body. "I love you so much Oswald. I would do anything for you, and I know you would do the same." Oswald wanted to scream, to tell Ed he was wrong, that Oswald had done every possible thing he could wrong, but he couldn't move, not even blink. Even as tiny cracks in the ice of Ed's skin started to appear, he could do nothing but stare in horror. "We could have had everything. We could have been happy. Now all that's left is just the cold." A disembodied voice was taunting Oswald and he couldn't do anything about it. With a start he realised it was his own.

The cracks became bigger. Ed's voice, still repeating his confessions of love and devotion, became hoarse and faded out. After an eternity of slow torture, the last warmth and light in Ed was wiped out. His eyes now glinted like beautiful pieces of painted glass. Beautiful, made to sustain as long as Oswald desired, but without any life or warmth behind them.

Finally the scream that had been building up at the back of Oswald's throat ever since Ed had first started to freeze was set free. A blood curdling scream ripped through the freezing cold air and echoed against the empty walls of the mansion. Panicked, Oswald stood up and tried to run, but Ed's once gentle grip on his arm was now vice-like. Grinding his teeth, Oswald pulled as hard as he could, hoping he could pry the fingers holding him loose. He stumbled backwards and fell with the shock of his success. One look at his arm immediately ruined the tiny shred of satisfaction and relief in him. Ed's hand was still on his arm. The bone and skin was shattered like glass, Ed's veins too frozen to let loose any blood.

Oswald screamed again but it soon turned into an agonised sob. You keep hurting him, no matter what you do. The voice was right. He had snapped at Ed when he had barely known him, he had only brought him pain and danger when Ed had saved him and his "lessons" had only led to his imprisonment at Arkham. He had freed him from that horrible place simply for his own gain and when Ed had finally found happiness he had ripped it from him. And now he didn't even allow him his rightful revenge. What kind of man was he that he even imagined Ed would ever forgive him, not to mention love him?

Tears were falling from Oswald's eyelids. They ruined his carefully applied makeup and turned into ice as soon as they touched his cheek, their ice-cold surface burning through his skin, but Oswald didn't care. He was in the wrong. Not Ed. How had he ever thought his own feelings even mattered? How had he ever thought he himself ever mattered? All he did was cause pain and destruction to those he loved, first his mother, then his father and now even Ed. He didn't deserve all the success the Lounge had brought him. He didn't even deserve his own life. Without his parents, without Ed, he would be long dead. And how had he repaid them?

Violent sobs shook Oswald's body as he cradled the broken and frozen hand to his chest.

He was so invested in his grief and terror, he didn't even notice the scene had shifted again. The screams in the Lounge had died down. Whoever was still in the room now was either dead or unconscious.

The attacker frowned underneath his mask. A curious smile was tugging at his lip. "Interesting... Your biggest fear, Mr. Penguin, isn't losing your success or your empire... I was so sure that would be it." He mumbled to himself. Penguin was too terrified to hear him anyway. "Terrified of their own actions.. you're not the first one I met with that fear, but I never expected it from you of all people. Why are you, a man that has everything, more scared of losing what you already lost than of losing what you have now?"

The Scarecrow walked away, mumbling to himself. He would have to do a little more research before testing his formula again. He smiled underneath his mask as he took in all the unconscious and dead bodies across the room. What a spectacle. No one would ever doubt true fear still existed anymore, now that he had shown so many people what it truly meant to be scared.

For some reason, Penguin's reaction to the gas stayed with him. What would he do now? Would he change his ways? The Scarecrow doubted it, but he was dying to see it.

#gothambuddyexchange #mine #i hope it doesn't suck^^'

[iamwhelmed]

For Whom the Bell Tolls: Chapter 11

All right... this chapter might entail some body horror and light gore. Just, uh, be warned I suppose.

Also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net!

Summary: When monsters start to invade Mayview, the morality of the connection between a medium and their spirit comes into question. Is killing a spirit any different from taking the life of another human? Relationships between club members become strained, and if Max thought the club was coming apart before, it certainly is now.

While the meditating bit had gotten, uh, easier, it still wasn't his… forte.

He'd fallen three different times trying to do yoga on one of the wooden slabs Master Hashimoto had directed him to. Why, oh why, did a "tree" pose have to be so, so difficult? It's a tree! It literally just sits there, being a tree! Ed huffed and tried once again to balance on one leg. He got as far as stretching his arms above his head before he felt his leg giving way to the front. Ed yelped on the way down, falling face first into the carpeted floor of the dojo.

Yeah, real manly, Ed. I'm sure Isabel would have loved to see that.

Though, as of late, she didn't seem to be mad at him anymore, or was at least trying to hide it. She'd been acting funny since Tuesday morning, what with walking him to and from school- like they used to- asking him where he was going when he left for training (he lied and told her he was going to the library to meet with a tutor and study… which she clearly hadn't bought), even being right at the door when he came home with a bag of chips in one hand and a random video game in the other. It was almost too nice of her, like she was trying really, really hard to get him to say something. Maybe she was just mad he was lying to her? But she hadn't cared the first entire week! What could have possibly changed? Did she suddenly decide to forgive him? Was she using reverse psychology on him in the hopes that she'd suffocate him with her presence so much that he'd never wanna be around her again? And if that was the case, that meant she wanted him gone and she never wanted to be his friend again!

What. Was. Happening?

Ed grabbed at his head and rolled around on the floor.

Did she hate him, now? Did she love him again? Had Max been a disappointing New Best Friend? Or was he too good? Was she bad? No! Isabel was never bad! She was amazing in every way! Max would have been lucky to have her as a best friend! What was he even thinking? Maybe it was all in his head? Maybe Isabel was never brushing him off at all? Maybe she wasn't being friendly to him! Maybe he'd wanted her to be his friend again so badly that he'd started hallucinating?

"Ah! Enough! I have training to do!"

He slapped his cheeks and turned around, climbing back up onto the wooden slab until he was standing with both feet atop it. "Come on, come on! I can do it this time!" All of the other students had gone on break after meditation, leaving him the last standing pupil hanging, er, flopping, around. Concentration should have been easy! And yet; Ed nearly slipped forward again and yelped, catching himself by placing one heel right at the edge of the wood to balance himself.

"Is there something bothering you, Ed?"

He turned to see Master Hashimoto, sliding out the doors that lead to what Ed had deemed the "Tea Room", the only place in the dojo aside from the kitchen and dining room he let anybody drink anything, and it was almost always tea. His voice read friendly, but the narrow of his eyes and the sharpness of his shoulders spoke contrarily. He was a more patient man than Master Guerra, but somehow that only made disappointing him feel worse. He glided over to the slab and stood before Ed with a frown creeping at the corners under his beard and mustache. "Oh, hi Master Hashimoto. No, nothing's bothering me."

"Then why can you not balance?"

Ed shrunk and turned his head away, a nervous chuckle bubbling in his throat. "Oh, uh, honestly it's just that I've been doing it for so long. It gets harder over time, you know?"

"Then why did you not do it right the first time?"

The room feel silent, and Ed's shoulders slumped; he'd never been the best liar. He sighed and glanced to the floor. He was so, so stupid. All this time he'd been pushing himself to get better for Isabel, but the very thing that drove him was the thing messing him up again, and again, and again. How was he supposed to become a man for her when she kept confusing him? He was supposed to know her better than anyone else, and there he was wondering why she started talking to him again! Ed bit at the inside of his cheek; he really had been a horrible best friend, if even now he couldn't figure her out.

"You are letting your worries cloud your mind." Ed blinked, and looked towards Master Hashimoto, who hadn't taken his eyes off him for a moment. "The only emotion you need to feel in battle is drive, Edward- the drive to protect those you care about." He raised one hand and set it at Ed's shoulder, squeezing lightly. The touch was familiar, something, it occurred to Ed, Spender would have done. Master Hashimoto smiled at him, mustache rising at the corners, fluffing outwards. "Your love for her will make you stronger. Focus on that."

Ed nodded, and his sensei pulled away, folding his hands back into the sleeves of his robe.

Ed straightened up, bringing one wobbling foot to set upon the inside of his other leg, then began to raise his arms above his head. I remember meeting her the first time, how she smiled at me and called me "Newbie"; I already thought she was so cool, even back then. And I remember the first time we sparred! She tackled me so fast that we went rolling down the hill and Mister Spender had to chase after us! Memory after memory floated to the front of his mind- her smile, her laugh, her bloodthirst, her spirit- it all flashed by, one shared memory after another. I remember staying up late with her on our seventh Halloween together! She ate so much candy corn that she puked out the window and hit one of the students- the old man wouldn't let it go for, like, the rest of the year! I remember starting sixth grade, and getting so lost that she and I had to go back to the dojo and ask for a ride to school because we had no idea where it was. I remember the first time she won a match against an older student, and how happy she was, but mostly I remember her hugging me so tightly I couldn't feel my lower arms, or my hands, or my lungs- much of anything, really.

He stretched his arms and let his hands join at the top of his head, straightening his back to get the most out of the pose. Shutting his eyes, he smiled, knowing he was balancing perfectly.

He was tired, and beaten (if the bruises along his arms was any indication). Master Hashimoto was a pacifist, but his students were most assuredly not. Ed yawned and stretched his back out, hands at his waist as he leaned back. His backpack swung at his shoulders, but he ignored the weight against his sore body. There were other parts that hurt way worse.

He twitched at the memory of a younger student kicking right at his crotch area, and hunched forward as he walked.

After meditating, correctly, for two hours, he'd sparred for another three, and it was high time to get home and pass out until he'd wake up, go to school, and do it all over again. He grunted. At least his body was getting used it, he supposed.

Something passed by so fast he'd hardly noticed it, but he felt the slightest brush of something sticky and slimy against the back of his backpack. Ed halted and twisted around, eyes wide. "Hey! Stop that! I'm a spectral, you know! You can't scare me!" In hindsight, that might have been a bad thing to yell had it been a normal person playing a prank on him, but he had a feeling it was a mischievous spirit looking for trouble. Well, they've certainly found it… He glanced around, raising his hands in fists up to the front of his face.

When nothing jumped from the bushes, he let his fists fall, sneer falling to simply thin lips. "Huh, guess it was nothing." Ed turned around, shrugging his backpack further onto his shoulders, headed again in the direction of home.

"Maybe it was just a bird that flew too low or-" Something hot and slimy wrapped around his hand, and before he could register what it was, sharp pain filtered through his arm, all the way up to his elbow. He screamed and formed a larger fist with his spectral energy, slamming it down upon the mystery enemy with as much force as he could muster through his pain. "Get- eck, get off of me!" Two punches had it's latch on him fading. It yelped and fell back. Following it home, Ed could see it wasn't just a small, sharp-toothed animal that'd nipped him.

It was a tentacle with canines wider than the length of his shoulders, shrinking back to a monster much larger than five Ed's stacked together. Its body was but a clump of rotting human flesh, melting into its own chattering human teeth. It had no eyes for sight, but its nostrils sat wide and sniffing where its pupils should have been. It screamed, and all that came out was the horrified shrieks of a man in pain Ed had never known. He gulped. "A monster?" It slinked towards him, body sliding and leaving a trail of blood like a snail left slime, pausing every few moments to scream again. Ed took a step back for each inch it moved, fists once balled trembling at his sides. It continued to advance of him, and suddenly he could see there was more than one sharp-toothed tentacle rising in the air around the monster before him. Ed felt a shiver down his spine.

She'd heard the commotion before she saw it. Isabel had been in Ed's room, deciding whether or not he'd probably wanna play Pak Nam or the newer Final SciFi 10. She shrugged and figured that she'd just let him decide whenever he got home. Besides, she still had to prepare the popcorn and soda- preferably in taller cups with less aforementioned soda to avoid as much spillage as the night before. She snorted to herself as she set the games beside the TV. She wasn't sure if her plan was working just yet, seeing as he was still going over to the other side of town to train every night, but she hoped it was. The more time they spent together, the better.

She heard the front door to the dojo open, but there was no usual slam. Curious, but it didn't really matter. Isabel grinned and stood up, racing to the door of Ed's bedroom and throwing it open, eager to greet him from the railings. All that mattered was that he was home, and they could spend two hours, or hopefully more, wasting time on levels they'd beaten millions of times over in millions of different ways- the time Ed beat it with one leg tucked behind his head came to mind. She paid no mind to the hushed whispering she heard from the bottom floor, or the ghostly silence that befell when her voice rang from the second floor. "Ed!" She greeted as soon as she got to the railings, leaning over them so he could see her clearly. "Welcome ba-!" Her words died in her throat.

He stood at the open doors, yes, but he looked a little more than worn out. His glasses were semi-shattered, leaving only one eye covered while the other was squeezed shut, slick with the blood running down from what appeared to be a chunk of skin out of his forehead. Further inspection, and she could see deep bite marks, sharp and wide, all over his body, from his shoulder to his legs, to the holes in his shirt. One leg looked particularly worse for wear, jeans torn so badly that she swore half his calf was gone. Isabel stuttered, body feeling momentarily weightless as she parted her lips, hands clenching the railing so tight she could feel the wood splintering into her palms.

"ED!"

Master Guerra had crossed the dojo and hoisted Ed into his arms in moments, cradling him like a small child. "Contact Zarei immediately! We do not have time for you fools to waste! Make the call, now!" Isabel had made it halfway down the stairs by the time the other students had crowded around. "Ed!"

Master Guerra turned over his shoulder, eyes narrowing as she reached the last step before the infirmary. He muttered something to the older students that she couldn't hear, and they turned to face her. Isabel reached one hand out, trying to will her legs to move faster, get to him quicker, see him right then and there! "Ed!" Two arms from different shoulders blocked her path, one resting at her face, the other at her waist. She ran straight into them, smacking her face against muscled skin. She fell back, and another student wrapped their arms around her lungs, pulling her into their chest. It was the ghost, looking down at her with so much empathy that she wanted to scream because there couldn't be a reason to feel that for her- Ed would be fine!

"Let- let me go!" She looked to Master Guerra's retreating back, watching Ed's limbs dangling from his arms as he opened the Infirmary door. "Ed! Ed!"

"How is he?" Spender crossed his arms and leaned against the walls of the dojo, watching the students train, though with apparent less spirit than usual. They each threw punches and danced the way Guerra had taught them, but each movement was strained, too much force or too little. Matches waged on like that, where nobody really broke a sweat. They moved to and fro, batting at each other like children, eyes somewhere far away from what was going on in front of them. They had a lot on their minds. He took a glance at Guerra from the side; if he'd noticed, he seemed to understand.

"Mina says he will be fine- there was a lot of blood, but little of it was his, and the wounds were less severe than they appeared."

"That's good…"

"I have to say," Guerra stroked his beard and grinned. Had Spender not known him for a decade or so, he might have been unsettled. "I am impressed. The mooch has grown strong, hm?"

Spender nodded, small smile creeping across his lips. "He has. Master Hashimoto seems to be a good fit for him. Ed and Isaac had trouble earlier this month taking a monster together. The fact that he fought one on his own, at his age nonetheless, and managed to kill it- he's finally living up to his potential." Ed had never been the strongest of the club members, and he could have sworn Ed had known. It wasn't a bad thing. Not every soldier could be a warrior and all that. Isabel was the strong arm, Max was the mobility, Isaac was the secret weapon...

Ed was irreplaceable because he was the wildcard. The man that could guess Ed's next move was one with a psychic eye, and he'd become thoroughly convinced it'd been Ed's gift. Upon further inspection, their low-maintenance member very well might have had other talents hidden up his sleeve. Spender smirked. Much like the wildcard he was.

"That weak man must have some good qualities, then." Guerra mumbled. "Though, you realize your proposal…" they both fell silent, and Spender swallowed hard. "Its conditions have been met."

"Yes. I suppose they have."

"How is he?"

Spender was headed to his car when he heard her, and he paused in turning the keys in the door to look back. She was standing at the top of the hill, frowning down at him and they both knew why. Perhaps she was upset about not being allowed entry to the Infirmary, but he'd seen Ed himself- it wasn't for a child's eyes. It was traumatizing enough that it was, in fact, a child who'd been so severely injured; Isabel didn't need that image in her head. "He's fine, Isabel."

"Then why won't they let me see him?"

"I swear to you, Zarei has him patched up. He just needs to take it easy for a little while."

Isabel faltered, and he could see her wincing, squinting as she was trying to hold back tears. He turned to face her completely, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He didn't need to be home right away. "Isabel, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's-!"

He scowled at her, because he knew her far too well for her to lie to him like that, and she slinked back into herself. Her arms raised to wrap around her shoulders, hair falling into her face, and sighed. "It's just… I already lost Eightfold. I can't" Isabel took a shaky breath. "I can't afford to lose Ed, too, especially if it's my fault."

"You aren't losing him, Isabel. I've already told you." His brows furrowed and he smiled, because there wasn't much else to do. "He's fine. And it isn't your fault that he got attacked-!"

"But it is my fault that he's leaving!" He winced as she balled her fists, grinding her teeth so hard he swore he heard the bones colliding. "He's going to train at some other dojo an hour away, and I'm never going to get to see him, all because I wouldn't just freaking talk to him! Now he thinks I hate him! And yeah, I'm still mad, I'm still really mad! But I need him here! He can't just- he can't just walk out of my life like Eightfold did! I don't wanna grow up without him!" Her voice was cracking, and her cheeks were growing red and puffy from the salt she was harboring too deeply for it to well in her eyes. "He has to stay here! He's my best friend! If he leaves, he'll forget all about me-!"

"Isabel, that's enough."

She hiccuped and looked back at him, fists still clenched, but she'd taken to biting down firmly on either lip. He shook his head and took a few steps up to hill, toward her. "Just because he's leaving the dojo, doesn't mean he's leaving you." She flinched when he reached out to wipe at her cheeks with his thumbs, but didn't move away. She was hot to the touch, and he momentarily thought she might have worried herself sick. She stared up at him as he leaned forward and cupped her head in his hands, the way a brother might have done. "You're right. He is your best friend. That's why distance will only make the heart grow fonder." She smiled at him, and he nodded, his own way of reaffirming his words. Still, her face fell again, eyes falling to his chest rather than his face.

"I still don't want him to go…"

He sighed and pulled her into a hug, rubbing comforting circles into her back as they stood as still as could be, wrapped in emotion.

#Paranatural #Edward Burger #Isabel Guerra #Richard Spender #Master Guerra #edsabel #FWTBT #The Monster Trilogy