For Valentine’s Day, I got the sublime artist Selene Volturo to create some illustrations for a fic that I wrote as a gift for @themasterplanner last Xmas. The story’s called “The Most Beautiful Bird in the World”, and you can read it here
If you want to know what Oswald and Jim are up to, and why Oswald has that white streak in his hair, you’ll have to read the story.
❀ Gobblepot Week - September 21-September 27, 2015 ❀
The first Gobblepot Week has arrived! Let us celebrate our favourite ship with fanfiction, drabbles, fanart, meta, fanvids, fanedits, etc. All works are welcomed as long as it is Gobblepot. Gobblepot Week is about sharing our love for Team Jim and Oswald, and Gotham!
Remember to tag your post with gobblepotweek2015 and please feel free to submit your work.
Day 1 - September 21: Favourite Scene
Day 2 - September 22: Scene Rewrite
Day 3 - September 23: Role Reversal
Day 4 - September 24: Crossover
Day 5 - September 25: AU
Day 6 - September 26: Future
Day 7 - September 27: Free Day! Whatever tickles your fancy.
This is a post dedicated to my friend, Selene, one of the most talented and sweet girl I know. We met tanks to her little Ozzy blog and now I love her soooooo much. Before the Ultimates convention, she gave me an unseen work of art in order to give it to Robin, who likes her art very much. So, during the autograph session, me and my friend Laura, decided to give one of the draw to Robin and make the other one signed by him for Selene. He recognise immediately her work and asked if we were friend. Than started to talk about how brilliant and talented she is…
So, my dear, this is our gift for you… because you’re brilliant, and if Robin says so who am I to disagree?
Ti voglio bene
Sunlight streamed through the windows, creating starbursts of colour against the walls. Morning. Jim woke slowly, a smile of contentment on his face and a warm bundle curled against his arm beside him. The soft scent of baby powder tickling his nose and Jim opened his eyes to watch the precious bundle. The baby was cooing in it’s sleep, small fingers curled and rosebud lips pursed.
Hearing the swish of a robe, he glanced up. Lee was over him, beautiful and radiant as ever. Dark hair pushed behind one ear as she leaned over the couch to smile lovingly at them.There was a camera in her hand and he raised a brow.
Holding a finger to her lips, she whispered, “Pretend to be asleep again.”
He complied, closing his eyes and trying to hide the quirk of a smile on his lips. Instead he brushed a kiss to their child’s forehead. The camera clicked several times as Lee snapped the photos, then fell silent. He could hear her soft steps coming around the couch and she brushed a hand through his hair lightly. “I love you.”Jim sighed. He hadn’t felt this at peace in a long time it seemed. “I love you too.” Lee murmured to him.
The press of her lips against his cheek made him open his eyes, and Jim glanced around groggily. It was dark out. Lee was nowhere to be seen, and he blinked in confusion then looked to the spot beside him on the couch. Empty.
He was in his apartment. The cold air drifting through an open window. Half used bottles of alcohol littering the counters, assorted papers tossed over his table, and Jim swallowed painfully. Nothing like the warmth of his dream.
Slowly Jim curled his arms around himself and cried.
first thing Edward noticed was how thin Oswald was underneath the
layers of heavy, fancy clothing – bird-fine bones, dainty wrists and
ankles, tiny waist and hips. Edward could encircle his entire forearm
with the thumb and forefinger of one hand. He was already formulating a
complete nutrition plan for his “patient” as he slowly lowered the
unconscious man into the tub, mindful of the twisted leg, keeping one
arm wrapped around his chest to prevent him falling in. Edward chuckled a
bit at the irony of a penguin drowning.
The second thing Edward noticed was how the florescent lights of the bathroom fixtures seemed to slide right off
Oswald’s pale skin, making him look like a being made of ice, or a glass sculpture come to life:
living, breathing, bleeding, with whipcord muscles moving under the surface.
Edward found himself entranced.
The long-suppressed – and repressed – part of himself that had first
stirred to life with Officer Daugherty’s murder now began to take notice,
awakening hidden and forbidden desires. Edward’s twisted imagination
supplied him with an image of Oswald touching him with those delicate
white hands of his, offering his pretty little body up to him in
gratitude for saving his life. The gangster king of the city was
totally at his mercy – and so very frail, and breakable. The feeling
of power was intoxicating, especially to a man who had so rarely truly
Before he knew what he was doing, he was pressing gentle kisses down
sharp cheekbones and sharper jawline before reluctantly tearing his lips
away. First things first, he reminded himself, picking up a washcloth.
It would do him no good if Mr Penguin died of sepsis on him…