This is a writing blog currently focused on the Gotham fandom. I ship Oswald/everyone. I don't write heterosexual fics. All gay every day. Male/Male, Female/Female. All fics will likely be fairly short unless I’m really enjoying it. Requests should...
It’s a Gobblepot fic, in progress. I’m dedicating it to @oswaldkapellput ‘cause I doubt I would have started shipping them again without the reminders of their complex, stupid relationship. :D
It’s a Gobblepot fic, in progress. I’m dedicating it to @oswaldkapellput ‘cause I doubt I would have started shipping them again without the reminders of their complex, stupid relationship. :D
It’s a Gobblepot fic, in progress. I’m dedicating it to @oswaldkapellput ‘cause I doubt I would have started shipping them again without the reminders of their complex, stupid relationship. :D
It’s a Gobblepot fic, in progress. I’m dedicating it to @oswaldkapellput ‘cause I doubt I would have started shipping them again without the reminders of their complex, stupid relationship. :D
It’s a Gobblepot fic, in progress. I’m dedicating it to @oswaldkapellput ‘cause I doubt I would have started shipping them again without the reminders of their complex, stupid relationship. :D
It’s a Gobblepot fic, in progress. I’m dedicating it to @oswaldkapellput ‘cause I doubt I would have started shipping them again without the reminders of their complex, stupid relationship. :D
Shot In The Heart & You're to Blame: A Valentine's Day Game
((OOC: Hello all! Since Valentines Day is coming up, and the only date Oswald has now is an expiration date, why not spread the love?
If you send a Valentine to Oswald by February 15th, he’ll “send” you a personal one right back! (Picture and all!) The Valentine can be anything you wish! (And if you have an RP blog- cosplay or not- feel free to send one from your character or OC!) You can send your Valentine to Oswald through the Ask box, or tag @kingofg0tham
in your post!
There’s a lot of negativity going on, so let’s spread the love! 💜☂️ ))
Notes; Okay this went kinda way left field of the actual prompt because I think I had some unresolved feelings towards the dreaded Episode 14. I hope you still enjoy!
Notes; Okay this went kinda way left field of the actual prompt because I think I had some unresolved feelings towards the dreaded Episode 14. I hope you still enjoy!
Edward's mind was a Gordian knot of jumbled, twisted emotion. It was life's great riddle, the answer to which had always evaded him. How could one work out feelings that made no sense? On the exterior Edward was calm and collected, but his thoughts constantly raced and conflicted, emotions firing off in shotgun blasts to his frontal lobe. Since he found out about Oswald's betrayal, those blasts had come in the form of blinding rage and a need for vengeance... but also an undercurrent of intense, soul-crushing pain.
His two sides were constantly at war to begin with, and the events that had transpired since his plan was set into motion had only exacerbated that fight. At every turn Oswald had behaved differently than he had expected, had gone left when he would have predictably gone right. His willingness to sacrifice himself to avoid Edward coming to harm was so unlike him that it shook him to his core, casting doubt over his entire way of thinking.
Oswald was inherently selfish, he had thought. Even when acting on behalf of others, there was inevitably some benefit to himself. He was the master of crocodile tears and pandering sentiment, but Edward had always admired that about him. Oswald was calculating, motivated, ambitious, everything Edward himself had wished to be throughout his adult life. When he nursed the small man back to health they had become close, but Edward was always suspicious because he knew Oswald's reputation.
When he wrote to him in Arkham and sent him packages, he began to weasel his way into Edward's heart, which he had kept on lock-down to protect himself.
When Oswald sprung him from Arkham and took him in, Edward had fallen under his spell. He began to do things that were out of character for himself. He risked his life to protect him from Butch, spent his days agonizing over managing Oswald's hefty workload, and spent his nights with the other man, doing menial domestic things that were only enjoyable because he was doing them with Oswald.
And then Isabella came and left just as fast by the mayor's order, leaving Edward irreparably broken, grasping for meaning. She was the spectre of a past that he had wanted so badly, one he could cling to and build the life he wanted with.
But did he really want that life?
A little wife, a little home, perhaps some little children?
Or was it some strange reach for a normalcy that he had always craved but could never truly enjoy?
Edward knew he was wrong on the inside. He knew that murder was wrong, but when he did it it was like cool air to a man who had always been forced to walk on the surface of the sun. It was control, it was power, it made sense to him in a world that was mostly nonsense. Oswald had always understood that. He had nurtured that feeling when all others would spurn him for it. He had understood what it was like to have a desperate need to twist the world to one's will, to mold those around with words and actions.
Oswald understood him in a way that no person had ever even attempted. He alone had been able to sort through Edward's harried brain and make sense of the maelstrom that existed there, at the center. He even knew that Edward had manipulated his emotions by playing off the feelings that lingered for his late mother, but didn't seem to care. He had felt so lost without Isabella, so driven by anger over her death that he had let his darker instincts take hold.
The instincts that Oswald knew well because he, too, weathered them.
Oswald, who had saved him.
Oswald, who had broken him.
Oswald, who loved him so deeply that he was willing to force himself to change something that was so central to his being; his instinct for self-preservation.
Oswald, who now plead with him to speak as Edward held a gun to his gut.
Tears streamed down the tall man's cheek, melding with the rivulets of rainwater that trickled off his chin. He had been thrown into chaos with Isabella's death, but perhaps the answer wasn't the revenge that his violent id desired. Perhaps the answer was a gentle surrender to the one man who knew how to piece together the tatters of Edward's psyche, the man who soothed him with his presence.
“I loved her Oswald...” He mumbled out loud, trying to make sense of things, staring down at the cold metal in his hand.
“Ed... Please. I love you.” Oswald whimpered, voice the one of a man who had suffered endlessly.
Edward had once told himself that he would never be the cause of the other man's suffering, that they were best friends and as such, he would protect him from it. He had held Oswald so many times before, comforted him in so many times of duress, and now he had broken him down and forced him into another wave of pain. Oswald had said they needed one another, words that slid into his brain like a cool balm.
They had both suffered enough.
They were two sides of the same coin; impulsive and controlled, action and planning, their natures duality encompassed.
Together, would there be balance?
The thought was like a switch for something deep inside of him, the lighting of a candle that had been neglected since the night Isabella came into his life. In that moment, the adoration, the warmth, the need he felt towards Oswald reignited, pouring over his rain-soaked form all at once.
The gun slid from Edward's fingers, his white-knuckled grip going slack as he moved forward to take the smaller man's chin in hand.
“We do need one another, don't we?” He muttered, staring down into the deep green eyes he had forgotten he loved.
“We do, Ed... I need you. W-what...” Oswald replied in confusion.
The confusion dissolved instantly, beautiful eyes sliding closed as Edward captured his lips with his own. Thin arms wrapped around his shoulders, tiptoes stood on to make the angle of their kiss more even. Edward let up only when the need for consistent breaths arose, pulling his lips away only far enough to whisper to the other man.
“Never hurt me again, Oswald. Please.” Edward pressed his forehead to Oswald's, both arms now holding him tight.
Warnings; One sided and angsty, also unbeta'd and kinda meh
Notes; I'm sorry, I had a lot of feelings D:
Gabriel arrived just in time to hear the crack of the gun snapping through the relative silence of the pier. Large body lurking behind a shipping crate, Gabe waited for the telltale splash of a body hitting water. He couldn't risk that skinny lunatic spotting him and taking him out, not when he was by himself and carrying a distinct lack of firearms. Peering around the corner, he saw Nygma staring down into the water, a stranger than normal look in his expression.
The aching in Gabe's stomach grew tighter and tighter the longer the man stood there, staring at the man drowning in the water, probably bleeding out from the close range shot. He had to think quick – and did, picking up a small wooden box, chucking it away. The noise startled Nygma from his trance, and away he ran. The aging mobster ran towards the dock as the thin man ran away, looking down into the water. Nothing.
He saw nothing.
Throwing off his coat, he quickly crossed himself in a small prayer to God to help him swim better than he actually knew how, and leapt into the water. He hit the frigid river like a ton of well-fed bricks, sinking relatively fast. It was murky, hard to focus, and his brain was yelling at him that a man of his age shouldn't go around jumping into rivers, no matter who was at the bottom of it. He felt around blindly with his hands, but it was his feet that hit something.
He pushed down, taking hold of that something, yanking it with him and moving towards the shallows. It was rapidly sapping his energy, but the little guy was depending on him and that thought kept him moving, gasping in air once his head was above the surface. He pulled Oswald fully into his arms, dragging him out of the water and dropping to his knees on the rock-littered 'shore' that made up about two feet before a concrete wall.
“C'mon boss...” Gabriel mumbled. Oswald's arms laid at his side, limp, and his stomach bled freely. “Ya gotta at least breathe for me.”
Gabriel pressed a large hand to the stomach wound, other hand feeling for a pulse – it was there. His Boss was a survivor through and through. He wasn't breathing so well, though, so Gabe leaned in and pushed on his chest, doing makeshift compressions. He never learned how to do CPR or anything, but he'd seen it enough in the pictures that he figured he had the general idea.
He was rewarded with the strangely reassuring noise of a choking, sputtering little bird, expelling water from his throat. Gabriel gathered him up into his arms, pressing the man to his chest. On his side like this he would be able to breathe better and not gag on river water... And the pressure might keep the bleeding at bay. Getting Oswald to a chop shop to get him patched up was going to be a chore.
“Alright little guy, let's get you fixed up, huh?” The large man mumbled as he moved to the car that waited on the side of the warehouse.
The ride to the “doctor” was eerie. He could hear his own heart pounding in his chest coupled with the shallow, rasping breaths Oswald struggled to take on the seat beside him. One hand on the wheel, one hand pressed to the open wound as he sped. Gotham was a ghost town still reeling from the chaos of the night before, no cops patrolling for petty violations because all hands were needed to retain order. He rushed into the only doctor he knew would be operating at this time of the day, voice booming deep as he issued the man a command.
“Fix him up!”
Gabe waited.
And waited.
And waited.
At one point he nearly fell asleep, but anxiety kept his eyes propped open. His boots were waterlogged, his heart heavy with dread. What would he do if Oswald didn't pull through? There were other bosses he could get in with, obviously, but no one was like Oswald. No one was as cunning, no one as simultaneously powerful and delicate. He had come to grips with the fact that he felt something different for the man then he did any others.
He loved him. Not in the way one loves a child or a cherished friend, but in the way you love someone that could never love you in return. Mournfully, quietly.
Someone entered the room. The doctor.
“He's stable. Now, he's going to need bedrest, a steady--” The man blinked as he was pushed past. “Gabe, there's the matter of payment, too? I don't do this for free, y—”
“Shut up, Larry. You know I'm good for it but I ain't got time to deal with it right now. I gotta get him somewhere safe. I'll get to ya within the next week, alright?” Gabe grumbled, bearlike as he moved to regard the pale man on the gurney.
He looked wretched, a ghost of a man. Gabe had seen him fall so many times before, and it never hurt any less. The only thing he could do was to remain steadfast. He would remain the man's anchor and guardian, keeping him safe where he could, even if he couldn't keep him sane and healthy. Gently, Gabe pulled the tiny creature into his arms, intent on taking him somewhere safer then the chop shop. He didn't need him being seen by the rabble that populated the area.
“Just – be careful moving him, his stitches...” Larry chimed in.
“You think I ain't ever carried someone half dead before? Get the door for me. I got this under control. Put the meds in the car.” He ordered the man. He was a pushover where Gabe was involved because the aging mobster had saved his sister ages ago from a human trafficker. Gabriel might have been a gangster, but he had a code.
Within the hour, Oswald was resting comfortably in Gabriel's bed in his apartment in the East End, breaths deep and even. Gabe watched him rest, dutiful and ever-present. He was all Oswald had right now, and he needed to be there when he woke.
When the wounded man did wake, it was with a whimper. The memory of the night before triggered by the pain in his abdomen... And once again, Gabe watched as Oswald sobbed softly. How many times could he be broken and put back together? How many times would he be betrayed, or hurt, or made a fool of? His strength had always astonished the older man.
“Gabe... Gabe...” Oswald gasped softly between hiccuped sobs.
“I'm here, Boss.” Gabe mumbled in return, large hands wrapping around one of Oswald's.
“I- I love him, Gabe... How could he...” Oswald whispered.
“I know you love him, Boss. I sure wish you didn't.” Gabe admitted. He had known from the start that this alliance with Nygma would end in pain, but that wasn't what Oswald needed to hear right then.
“I don't want to anymore... It hurts too much. H-he'll never love me back.” Oswald's eyes clenched shut.
“I'm sorry, Oswald. I'm here for you, though. Just get some rest, huh?” Gabe offered lamely.
“Okay... Will you stay here?” Oswald's hand twitched in his.
“Don't I always?” Gabe smiled to him, though his eyes remained shut.
“You're my only friend in this world, Gabe.” Oswald mumbled.
It made him ache in the worst way to see Oswald so destroyed time and time again. Love was his greatest weakness, one he sought out so often, one that evaded him endlessly... but was also something that sat beside him, that carried him home, tended his wounds, and went completely, devastatingly unacknowledged.
Drifting, drifting, deeper and deeper, the dying man inhaled the rivers frigid water as if it would cleanse his broken heart. It filled his lungs as he sank, choking him, sending his muscles into desperate spasms as instinct tried to override his resignation to death. What point was there in living when the one he loved had given up on him? His foolish mistakes had taken everything he held dear.
Mother.
Father.
And now Ed.
His back hit rough sand. He watched tendrils of blood rising from his gut, draining from him as easily as water rushed in to fill his body. Oswald wondered where he would go once his body gave out. Would he see his mother again? He could hear her voice, whispering somewhere far away.
”Oswald… My little Cobblepot…”
Reaching out, he began to move towards her voice. He would be with her again, no matter what. He would fight the Devil himself to be reunited with his mother, would wrest his way out of Hell to reach her again, to be held forever in her arms. Water began to rush past his battered body, and euphoria began to warm him. This was it.
He would be at peace.
The world went black.
—🐧————————————————————————————-🐧—
Pain.
The world was pain. His lungs ached, his belly burned, and his eyes could barely process the amount of light filtering into them. He heard a voice – was it her? Did he reach Mother? Was there pain like this in Heaven?
“Mother…” He wheezed, throat hoarse, voice choked.
“I’m not your mama, boy… But I did make you.” That voice was heavy, familiar, and held an unsung song in its tone.
“F-F…” Oswald sputtered.
“This is some kinda cosmic irony, don’t you think? You throw me into the river and kill me, I come back, we spare each other… and now I’ve saved you. I think that means you owe me now.” As his vision finally cleared, he saw her there, in perfect clarity. Fish Mooney. Beautiful, deadly, and apparently immune to death. His hand gripped his stomach lightly. He was stitched up, healing.
“Wh-why did you save me?” Oswald whispered, no small hint of bitterness to his voice.
“Fish and Penguins inhabit the same dark waters, boy. I couldn’t just let you go down like that. It figures the whole time I was telling the women in my life never to let a man rule them… I shoulda been telling you the same thing.” Fish smirked a little. “Now, you rest up, heal up. Miss Mooney’s got big plans brewing, and you’re gonna need your strength.”
blakekathryn
titsay
areudirty
jacobvanloon
kaledo-art
turnnoffyourmind
yousharknotpass
prguitarman
