#not starting it today but hoo boy lookin forward to it

[sammyloomis]

after blitzing thru the remainder of 11/22/63 this afternoon i can Finally get crackin on this bad boy

[johannstutt413]

(requested by mathmaticalknight; continuing a series)

“Ya know, I dunno why I thought she mighta been jokin’ ‘bout the tuxes.” Croissant was blushing brightly as she was getting her measurements taken.

Mostima shrugged. “I don’t ever plan on getting married, but one of us was bound to tie the knot sooner or later, and Texas needs to find an officiant who will sign two certificates for her discreetly before it’s even an option for her. Where are your hanger-ons, by the way?”

“With Angelina, doing the same thing we are.” The Lupo had a Pocky stick in her mouth like a cigar, taking it all in. “I wouldn’t marry Sora, though. Exu maybe, but not Sora. She’s a good girl, but the whole ‘idol worship’ is a bit much.”

“She’d really want you to praise her that much?” The Sarkaz smirked.

Texas rolled her eyes. “Funny.”

“If any��n’s worshippin’ any’n, it ain’t Tex.” The Forte chuckled, but had to stop when the tape measure came ‘round again. “Hey, how tight this need ta be? Least gimme a lil’ room ta breathe ‘ere.”

“Don’t question my judgment, ‘less you wan’a punishment. I been wearin’ this look a lot longer than you.” Emperor bit back, making the last few notes he needed.

The three shared a glance. “You wear T-shirts over your feathers, though,” Mostima observed.

“Well, yeah, cuz’ I like the style,” he replied, “but if ya ever see me rockin’ my birthday suit, you’d know I’m just as fuckin’ classy. Got killer shoes to boot.”

“What, yer feet?” Croissant glanced down at the penguin’s openly-visible legs.

He nodded. “Damn straight. The boys will have your suit to ya within a couple days; when’s the big shindig, anyways?”

“Uh...I dunno.” The Forte shrugged. “We’re gonna sign the papers a week from now, but we don’t have money for a ceremony.”

“Well, then, imma have to do it myself.” Emperor opened his notes again and walked away, pen scribbling faster than before.

Texas shook her head. “That’s how you know you’re the Boss’s favorite, Cross.”

“Aw, shucks, I didn’ wan’im to pay fer it.” She sighed. “I’m gonna be payin’im back ferever at this rate.”

“Could be worse - if he died before forever came along, the debt would probably go right back to the company.” And with that, the Sankta left, the other two not too far behind, to meet Bison in the lobby.

Meanwhile, Magallan was moving at a more leisurely pace, listening to Angie recount the proposal story. “That sounds exactly like I imagined. Empy’s was a lot more ostentatious, but I had no idea what was coming, either. WIth him, he could’ve been holding an impromptu concert.”

“That’s the Emperor, alright.” Exusiai sighed. “I can’t imagine what it’d be like to go through something like this. Can you, Sora?”

“Hmm?” The ‘Lupo’ had been doing just that, actually.

Angelina smiled. “Oh, I think she can. I’ve had that look on my face for the past week now...It’s too bad we can’t afford to have a ceremony, though.”

“You can’t?” The Liberi measuring her stopped. “Oh, dear, why didn’t you tell me? I’m sure Empy and I can help you with that; consider it our wedding gift to you both.”

“You’d really do that? But they’re so expensive...” Her fiance’s sense for money was rubbing off on her.

Magallan chirped merrily. “Oh, it’s no big deal; we’re making so much, it’s a drop in the bucket. How does three weeks from today sound?”

“Oh, Magallan, I can’t just blindly agree without talking to my Croissantwich first...buuut that’ll probably be okay.” The Vulpo was about to explode from happiness; luckily, they were done with measurements at this point (because of Liberi efficiency), so she was free to detonate with glee as she burst out of the dressing room. “Croissaaaaaant!”

“Angie?!” The Forte heard her and turned around in time to be slammed by a full-speed makeout machine which managed through sheer enthusiasm to knock her to the floor.

Texas nodded as the other two followed out. “Ceremony?”

“Ceremony,” Exusiai confirmed. “Emp and Maggie paying for the whole thing?”

“That’s what he said...Wonder if he’ll pay for ours.”

Two Penguin Logistics members turned bright red as Bison and Mostima had an intense but muted conversation off to the side...Yep, just another day in Penguin Logistics.

-----------

“Wow. They really did pull out all the stops, didn’t they?” The Doctor and Amiya took back their IDs from the door guard as they walked into the auditorium that’d been taken over. “It’ll be hard to match for ours.”

“Doctor darling, we probably shouldn’t compete with the Emperor like that. He doesn’t like to back down from a fight.” Besides, why would she need a grand ceremony? Just her and the Doctor at the altar, Kal’tsit as the Maid of Honor, Savage and Blaze as bridesmaids-

There was a tap on her shoulder as her date gestured to the seating. “I wonder if they expect to fill the place tonight.”

“Everyone’s sitting so close to the front, it’s hard to tell.” The Cautus shrugged. “Let’s sit back here. It’s a bit crowded there...So many emotions at once might overload me.”

“As you wish~ Oh, they’re about to start, I think. One question: why is Texas on the other side and wearing a suit? And why isn’t Emperor, even though Lappland is in one?”

Amiya shrugged. “Hard to say, Doctor. How did Lappland get to be a groomsman when Bison is- Oh! He’s the officiant.”

“When did he get that certifi-” He stopped as soon as Bison began to read.

“Friends, colleagues, and esteemed leaders of Rhodes Island,” the Forte began. “While I stand before you today acting in a merely ceremonial capacity in this celebration, I cannot begin to tell you how exciting a day this is not just for us at Penguin Logistics, but for Rhodes Island as a whole. Never have I seen a pair more in love than the two who come here today to declare their union in holy matrimony. Will the groom please come forward?”

From a door off to their right, there was a bit of a ruckus, followed by Croissant stepping through with a sheepish smile on her face as Emperor walked her to the altar before taking a front-row seat. Evidently, she’d knocked over a coat rack or something as she’d approached the door, but that wasn’t what grabbed people’s attention.

The Doctor squeezed Amiya’s hand. “Our Croissant is a rather handsome woman, isn’t she?”

“Oh, hush, dear.” She lightly slapped his hand, which was resting atop hers on the chair arm between them. “I think she looks lovely.”

“That’s what I meant, darling, just in a masculine sense. The style matches her perfectly, and the tailoring is also impeccable, honestly.”

She gave him a look. “Have you been studying this sort of thing?”

“It’s important to have a broad knowledge base.” He smiled as the Forte stepped up to the altar, clearly noticed she’d missed her mark, and shuffled a little to get into place. “Oh, Cross...”

“Uh...thank y’all for comin’. Wudn’t sure how many people’d wanna come when we’d already tied the knot on our own, but uh...It means a lot ta both of us, I know. Uh...” She probably had more, but she choked up with tears in her eyes in the face of Rhodes Island’s full support on display. “Th-thank y’all so much...”

As Texas patted her on the shoulder, Bison continued. “Is the bride ready?”

“As ready as she’ll ever be,” Mostima muttered as the opposite door opened to reveal a procession: Greyy with a pair of rings displayed on a pillow walking with Gummy, who was sprinkling the floor behind them with flowers. Behind them, Magallan was arm-in-arm with Angelina, who was wearing a suit of her own.

“Oh my God,” Amiya gasped in wonder. “Doctor-”

He nodded, squeezing her hand. “I see her, too, dear.”

“Hot damn,” Emperor audibly muttered, catching the attendees off-guard and eliciting more than a few laughs.

“Thank you, Emperor.” Angie smiled at him before turning to the crowd as Maggie took a seat. “My parents aren’t here, and I doubt they’d have agreed to attend if I’d told them, but Penguin Logistics is more like my family than anyone. The other day, I finally married into it, and...I just wanna say, to everyone from Rhodes Island who was able to make it, and the folks who had work to do, I appreciate everything you’ve all done for Cross and me since I got here. Even if this probably isn’t what any of you saw coming...Bison?”

He smiled. “Greyy, if you would?” The Perro held out the pillow for the couple to each take a ring. “Excellent. Now, as I wasn’t able to be fully ordained in time for this ceremony, I can’t lead the two in a recital of their vows, but they asked to be able to each say something here today. Angelina, if you will?”

“I think my wifesband should go first,” she teased, grinning at the blush that turn of phrase created.

“Well, ya only get ta do this right once, huh...” The Forte wiped at her eye. “Hoo boy. I was there the night Angie realized her feelin’s fer me, but I’ll a’mit, e’er since the firs’ day I saw ‘er, I ‘ad a pretty good ide-er just ‘ow wun’erful she is. Ain’t a lotta girls in’a world that got both a good ‘ead on ‘er shoulders and a warm ‘eart like she got, but ‘at ain’t e’ry’in ta love ‘bout ‘er either. Not sure if she ‘members this, but first time we met was back when she aksidelly went’n PL lookin’ fer the Doctor. Nothin’ like ‘avin’ some’n so gorjus tell ya ‘Sorry, was lookin’ fer some’n else,’ ya know?”

A bit of laughter from the crowd before she continued. “I reckon I ‘ad the last laugh there, tho’, cuz’ guess ‘oo gets to call ‘erself Mrs. Ajimu now...Angelface, we were friends long ‘fore I thought we ‘ad a chance at bein’ lovers, so you know when I say I’ve seen ya at yer best and yer worst, I ain’t tryin’a diss ya. There ain’t a nuther person in ‘is room as lucky as me t’day, ‘cuz the love of my life loves meh back...Ya prolly shud stop meh, else I’ll just keep ram’lin’.”

“That’s alright; even if these folks have other places to be, I’d listen to every word. You know, darling, if it was a nightmare that inspired you to propose to me when you did, I have to wonder what happens when you have a good dream, but I think I’ve been living in one since the day we had our first date. Between movie nights with the company and waking up to your smile in the mornings, it’s like living in one of the cheesy teen novels I loved reading after floating up to one of my usual spots. Loving you is a flashback and a memory and a dream and a reality all rolled up in knowing that, whatever happens - arguments, deployments that separate us, maybe even one of us getting hurt - there’s nothing in the world that’ll stop me from needing you, wanting you, standing by your side...Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me...” Having said her piece, tears in her eyes, Angie reached out and slid her ring on Cross’s finger, who did the same in turn.

“I think I’m gonna cry,” the Doctor whispered to his date, who already was. “G-good call on the back sea--” And there went the water works.

Across most of the auditorium, actually, save for those physically incapable, and Bison, who soldiered on regardless. “That said, before we get to the festivities provided by Emperor and Magallan for the evening, it’s my duty to ask: if anyone here has any objection to this union - not that it will matter from a legal standpoint - speak now or forever hold your peace...Good, because I’d punch you myself if you did. Then, by the power invested in me by Rhodes Island and subsidiary company Penguin Logistics-”

“When did that happen?” Amiya asked in a hushed voice. “I thought we were just partners with them?”

“Closure and Emperor came to some kind of understanding. I wasn’t there for the process, I just signed the agreement.”

“-I now announce you to the world as Mrs. and Mrs. Ajimu. You may now kiss your bride.”

You didn’t have to ask them twice.

The celebration afterwards was wild as hell. Emperor had an impromptu concert (as expected); Bison proposed to Mostima, who actually agreed before falling apart in a spectacular show of emotion Exusiai had thought was impossible for her; the Doctor and Amiya tore up the dance competition that broke out, but narrowly lost to Croissantwich and Angelface in the karaoke contest afterwards; Lappland admitted that she wasn’t actually in love with Texas but trying to rile her up into a duel so she could get to Exusiai the entire time, which actually got the Texas family’s most composed to go full Mafia Samurai on her ass as the Sankta and the idol looked on in a mix of horror and “omg I knew it;” and through it all, drink was had, and merry was made.

Terra was a difficult place to live in. Poverty, inequality, terror, bloodshed, fear, hatred, jealousy - they’re no less potent or prominent on its surface than any other world’s, a product of the inevitable confluence of humanity’s imperfections magnified across a barely-numerable and broadly-scattered population. With all that said, though, there was much to live for, and as Angelina and Croissant made it home and threw themselves out of their clothes for the ‘real’ celebration of the evening, none of that mattered. Tomorrow would come, or it wouldn’t, but that night was theirs in a way no other would be...

[thepilgrimofwar]

Pure of Heart

Solendis waited in the guest wing, seated by the fire in the common room. He waited, not for the usual staging of a diplomatic talk, or to speak about strategy from the war room. He waited for something more important than any of that. He waited for the boy, who seemed to be dragging his family off-track.

“Evening Mr. Bladeborn,” he said when Vissehn finally appeared. The Steward had heard him and his son laughing on the roof tops, drunk and high off Bloodthistle. Thankfully, only the House Huards had been around to bear witness to this. Lest his son’s reputation be besmirched.

The hallways seemed smeared with light; his pupils blown wide, Vissehn wondered if he touched one, if perhaps his hand might also become so brilliant and glowing. His laughter chimed through as he ambled-- staggered-- towards the guest wing. 

It had been a bloody success; he had brought down the cold and sad walls he had seen springing up around Stenden’s heart and head, crashed into them like a meteor of bawdy songs and pilfered liquor, and now the boys laughter played over in his mind, shining like a new coin. If he’d been robbed of a boyhood, well, he would lend some of that to another; find the kindred spirit beneath the stuffy layers of velvet and linen and silk, bear it and bask in finally not being alone.

Neither of them needed any more years being alone in their youth.

He careened into the common room, he wasn’t even looking to the crackling flames. Vissehn had only eyes for windows, and stars. In that candid moment, before he knew of the other man, his youth revealed like so much bare skin, he was every inch the vagabond he had espoused-- wind tousled hair, cheeks freckled and high in color, the acrid scents of liquor and thistle a cloud around his shambles of an outfit. 

When he heard the voice, he turned hard on a heel, spinning almost comically towards his chosen surname. “Oi, Steward Emberheart?” Vissehn saluted breezily, squinting a moment to make sure he had the right man. “Cor, you look like yer brother in this light, almost thought I was seein’ ghosts!” He grinned, his good mood taking even the barbs out of his jests.

Solendis folded his arms, taking measure of the man- no- the boy in front of him. He did not like what he saw. This was Stenden’s agent of choice. True, Vissehn was a capable killer, a proven agent that had served greater names than theirs in the past, but all in all, the boy in front of him was a bad influence. He made Stenden forget his station, the decorum that separated nobility from the commoners- and possibly the only thing that held the Emberglades together.

“Enjoying yourself?” He spoke firm, arms folded, ears flat against his skill and a gaze that only disapproving parents could muster. “You may have free run of the house as my son’s agent, but don’t for one second believe that you’re free to do as you please- without consequences.” Solendis rose to his feet, towering slightly over Vissehn. “I understand that you believe you are helping Stenden by…” he made an offhanded gesture at the roof. “Relaxing. But you are doing the complete opposite.”

Vissehn looked up at his friends father as he rose, one brow lifting to that jaunty arch that made the youth look puckish and fey. Solendis was a tall man; taller than Vissehn and certainly bore down with the paternal disapproval that had likely cowed Stenden in his more playful years. The light of his evening was dimmed in the derision he heard in Solendis' tone, but not with shame. "Yeah, you got good liquor down in the cellar and bad locks to go with them. Sounds like a mighty enjoyable evening to me."

Eyes glittering with that cold mirth, he let his lips curl up in that wicked grin. "Naw, see, the plans to let him get all cozy comfy an then ruin th'Emberglades by exposing that their Lord is--" he gasped theatrically. "A fuckin' lad who wanted to live a little! Gods an' ghosts, whatever'll everyone do? Carry on with all their lives cause it don't fucking matter if a boy has a moment to hisself?" He snorted and tossed his name of golden hair. "Consequence, hoo M'lord I'm just a peasant brat what didn't get that stirling education, you'll have to use smaller words than that." He feigned a poor imitation of woe, the light never leaving his eyes as he already turned to walk off.

Solendis maintained his composure, sticking to his condescending gaze of disappointment. But as Vissehn began to walk off, he raised his voice. “You’re a smart boy, educated or not, so listen to me. Stenden cannot afford to be a boy, not now, not ever. I’m not sure where you’ve lived exactly, but the entire system that holds the Emberglades together is predicated on the ideas of nobility- exclusivity- the right to rule because we are a cut above the rest. Let the people see him the boy he is and not their Lord, and you’ll have what we have now, only ten-fold.”

The bark of authority in Solendis words made Vissehn straighten-- though perhaps not for the intended reason. Hackles raised and blood thick with liquor and assurance, he turned and closed the distance faster than his stumbling in the hall had would indicate. 

This close to the man, Vissehn could see the weight of years in the lines around his eyes, the necessities he had born in the name of the Emberglades; he’d been illused and run up by wars and ledgers and lost causes. In other times, Vissehn might have sheathed his bladed tongue and let the man go on with his platitudes and his conceptions, but alcohol made truth out of anger and the commonborn youth had so much truth in him.

“Cut above?” His grin pulled sideways. “Oh, fancy that, cut above. See, even piss drunk an’ half blind from thistle I shoulda never mistook you for Sederis, cause there was a bloke that knew the truth in it, didn’t he?” Vissehn’s words were sharp with laughter. “Ain’t a single soul of us better than the dirt we��ll die in, save by the deeds done on it, not the blood we’re born of.” He canted his head and let his gaze streak over Solendis. 

His following snort showed how much he thought of the inspection. “Your father seems to have ‘predicated’ that he was right to rule by sowin’ more graves than any other fucker; how his get carry on is on them, I figure.”

“My father sowed those graves so he could reap almost three centuries of peace!” Solendis responded to Vissehn’s snort. “And there is more blood that has yet to be spilled to let Stenden enjoy three hundred more. Leave it up to people like you and we’d still be a wartorn backwater, stabbing each other over better plots dirt. Content to accept your lot, and do as you please. No ambition to change things for the better! Nothing beyond what can be touched and felt on the morrow!”

Solendis threw his arm out to his side, gesturing at the manor and everything that surrounded it. The fields, the villages, and for now, the soldiers that were fighting on their behalf from all over Quel’thalas. “So yes, we are a cut above the rest. Because building a better tomorrow is more important that the price we pay today. That was something Sederis understood, before the end. It is that, which puts Stenden a cut above the rest.”

“Which includes you.” He brought his arm back round and pointed his finger at him, the distance now close enough to bring his fingers inches from his chest. “You more you remind him that he’s a boy, free to do as he pleases, the more you drag him down to your level. Keep it up and he’ll be back to square one- No one will bear an ounce of respect for him. His words will carry no weight as they did at the start. And I’d sooner be damned before watching him get humiliated- and underestimated like that again.”

Sobriety was the better part of wisdom, and even when not a bottle or more in, Vissehn could not be called wise. “Like me, eh?” His voice was low and soft, a shadow coming to those bright eyes. “And what the fuck do you think you know about me?”

He was in Solendis space then, closing that distance so that the finger extended pressed against the fabric of his tunic. “I know your lot-- a merchants lad’ll break your bones, a lords son’ll bury the lot. I know how many of my cousins had long ears after their mums spent a spell as maid in a manor. That’s how you shape your tomorrows-- kill the kind that don’t match, or if you’re feelin’ charitable, just fuck it into them. You all pretend to some greatness, somethin’ pure and noble of the blood, but I seen what your lot do when no one important is lookin, and your kind is as base as mine. Leastwise we don’t have the gall to claim ourselves any mans betters.” The deep hate in him seeped out into his words, and he pushed forward so the finger jabbed hard against the fabric. “That you think Stenden’s greatness has got anything to do with Mereded, or you, or this bloody manor and name-- that’s where you’re wrong.”

Vissehn grabbed Solendis’ wrist, his lean and long fingers gripping tight enough to show the strength of the boy but not yet painful. “I’ve bled and killed for better tomorrows-- cut enough short for others to know the weight of a future and how little it really is. Stenden’s got a greatness to him, but it’s not been inherited from warlords or passed on by cuckolded politicians. He’s got vision, a heart big enough to carry the burdens of his ancestors an’ a mind canny enough to know when to hold fast or when to fold.”

He released Solendis, shaking his hand as though he had touched something filthy. “Everyone ‘round here got their heads so full of shite, Emberheart, Illithia, sayin’ names like they got weight behind the letters somewhere. You want a son at the end of this? Stay out of my way. Elsewise Emberglades’ll get a Lord, for certain-- one without a soul. I’ve looked into the eyes of the livin’ dead, and I’d take on a scourge and a legion afore I have to see another home lost to a man whose got more nobility than soul.”

Solendis rubbed his wrists, “Then I’m afraid to say that such horrors await you.” The Steward spoke evenly, knowing better to test the patience of an impulsive drug addled youth- With a body count to his name. “Maybe not now, maybe not for a hundred more years. But when Stenden is a boy no longer, you’ll find that he’ll sell his soul on his own accord. Because you are absolutely right. You are right. Stenden has greatness to him, he’s growing into it right now, but all great rulers understand that a soul must be sacrificed to rule-.”

He let his arm sink to his sides. “To rule well with kindness, and justice. To put his people first. That leaves no space for himself or the baseness you seek to encourage.” 

Then his hands clenched into fists. “You claim I know nothing of you? Well, touché Mr. Bladeborn- or whatever your namesake truly is! I am not those men who inflicted misery upon you and yours, they are not my lot!” He thrusts a finger at Stenden’s office, still glowing with candlelight within. “HE is my lot. Stenden, Riah, even my brother, THEY are my lot. We live, trying to undo the sins of our fathers, to make the blood they spilled and injustices they wrought WORTH it.”

Solendis pushes himself forward, folding his arms once more. “So, you tell me to stay out of your way? Let my son live a little? Indulge in his desires? Your way will turn Stenden into one of those Lordlings you hate.”

“He doesn’t have to sell shit!” Vissehn roared, losing the thin threads of control he had on himself. His hands shot forward, clawed to grab Solendis by his tunic but at the last moment he jerked his hands back as though burnt. “You can be kind an’ good an’ still have power-- The High Cleric, The Knight Commander-- you can take lives an’ still be good, and real. Don’t need a title, don’t need a-- a legacy to protect. You’re gonna kill him an’ not even have a body to mourn!” 

He ran his hands through his hair manically, laughing roughly. “You’re offering your fuckin-- your fucking son-- for a future that you can’t even see is all going to shite! You’re layin’ him on an altar and lettin’ the world go in with the knife. Gods, I might as well be fuckin’ trying to reason with Her!” 

The eyes that turned on Solendis were thick with undisguised disgust. “He ain’t your lot. You might have gotten him on his mother, but he’s got more of Sederis in him, an’ that means he can be more than you’re giving credit for.”

Vissehn turned away and rubbed his face, exhausted from the anger he’d let fly. He was a tall youth but he was so lean, hungry in every sense and it showed in the way the light flickered over the sharp edges of his cheeks and the faint hollows beneath. His head pounded, the lights were all too much, and he’d thought of Her for the first time in-- in too long. “You’re not my employer, an’ until the time Stenden sends me off like th’nothin I am, I’m his. However long he’s got a soul burnin’ in there, he’s got me.” The weight of the declaration settled in his soul, and he realized he meant it. “You want to know the ilk who is swearing themselves to your lad?” The words tumbled out before his reason and self preservation could stop them.

“Vissehn, once of the Hawk.” He shrugged and let his grin return, still wicked but dimmed. “My deals-- my vows-- are good.”

Solendis gives a moment for his confession to sink in. “Ah, so,” he speaks after taking in its meaning. The rumors were true. He had heard whisperings after looking to Zarannis’ background and the tribe of Tel’dorei that she had spent the best years of her youth with- The Hawk Tribe. The boy was Unwelcomed- Exiled- Dead in the eyes of his clansmen. “We could never confirm if you wore the mark that all Exiles of your kind wear. But I see where all that spite comes from.”

His arms unfold, reaching for his chin, a calculating look flashing in his eyes. “Very well. I think there’s no point on harping-on on what’s already been said. You belong to my son’s retinue. You say you’re good on your promises- Then good. Serve him well. Just know that Stenden, like Sederis before him, understood the meaning and value of sacrifice. It’s only a matter of time before he offers his soul to the Emberglades.”

Vissehn did not look back as he left Solendis in the common room, the stifflegged walk to his own rooms too long by far. Solendis had no answer from the youth to that parting volley, only the seething quiet of rage contained poorly behind clenched teeth. Vissehn slammed his door, knowing it would only cement whatever the man thought of him and finding he wanted to prove every base thought true this time. Let them think him a roustabout; a good for nothing witches get. He was and worse, for all they would ever know of him.

When the door closed, though, he slumped against the wood, hand rising to catch at his collar.

In the dark spanse of his suite, he stared. He stared until the shadows held no mystery, until the ghosts and monsters summoned with just Her thought had dissipated into vapor and paranoia. Only when he was sure, only when the lock slid I to place and the windows shuttered against the night, did he settle on the overstuffed coverlet. 

Vissehn pulled up the tunic, palm grazing the fabric of the binding beneath. His fingers pushed between the layers of bandage, and he twisted until his breath came short and his vision swam.

People like you.

You’re the first real friend I’ve had Viss.

He threw himself down on the bed, eyes closed as he tried to find the moment under the stars, the burn in his belly.

Instead, the press of Solendis finger seemed to burn instead, the judgement lingering long after the night and sleep claimed Vissehn, once-of-the-Hawk.

--

@retributionpriest @stormandozone @thanidiel

[headoverhiddles]

Disorderly Conduct - Sheriff Brackett x Reader [Smut]

Synopsis: You go visit the Sheriff at work to see if you can have a little fun. Then, an unexpected visitor forces you to improvise. 

@chari-koopa

It was one of those days.

Most days at work were alright-- Sheriff Brackett liked to think he did an on-par job taking care of Haddonfield and all its good citizens. Of course, today was one of those "fuddle days," as he called them. Everything was sticky and hot, as things got in early July, and Mrs. Bedford had called him all the way to Sicamore Road across town to settle a dispute with her neighbor over their gardening line. (He supposed it was for the best-- it had escalated to bearing arms by the time he got there.)  

Now he was looking forward to settling in with his sticky bun in the office until someone else decided they needed him.

"Sheriff?" Brackett looks up, clouds in his mind parting.

"Hm?"

"You've got a... visitor."

The fact that the officer was on the verge of a smirk should have tipped Brackett off, but one thing he was not was observant. Who could it be now, come along to bother him?! Maybe Jed from Strawberry Lane, come to complain about Mr. Adler’s golden retriever fucking up his lawn again. God forbid he have an actual issue to deal with as Sheriff, instead of riding around the streets in a god damn fur cap looking like Davy Crockett.

He headed right into his office, taking off said hat and sunglasses...

"Christ almighty!"

You smile up at the sheriff as he shuts the door quickly, checking out the frosted glass to see if anyone else saw you.

"Calm down. Nobody saw me but deputy hoo-hah in there. Shouldn't there be some more cops on duty? This is a station, right?"

"What are you doing out lookin' like that?!" Brackett blurts, cheeks reddening. You bite your lip, squishing your tits together a little more. You love making him squirm, and the remodeling of your school outfit did just that.

"I thought I'd come say hi."

"And what've you done to your uniform?" he sighs, swallowing as his eyes come to rest on your extremely accentuated bust. You had made a few modifications to your school uniform to make it sexier. The skirt now barely grazed the bottom of your ass, and your buttons were popping beneath your breasts.

"I made it my own."

"You sure did that," he nods. He rubs his face as he sits down. "You do realize everyone I work with is gonna think I'm a pervert now."

"Not if I were to beg you to fuck me loud enough for them to hear."

"(y/n)!"

You giggle. "Not that I would."

"You better not--"

"Fuck me!"

"Hun, I'm warning you!"

"What're you gonna do, daddy?" you breathe, spreading your legs. His eyes go down to your panties, which he can see are soaked through. He undoes the top two buttons of his uniform, takes a deep breath, and stands you up.

"Wait for me at home, I won't be long."

"But daddy, I need you now," you moan, grabbing his arm. He escorts you to the door, rubbing your shoulders.

"Sweetie, daddy's at work, he's working, he'll be home so--" He stops mid sentence and gasps a little as you reach forward to palm him through his pants. "What are you--" he gives a raspy moan, and you feel him get hard in record time.

"Mmm, I don't think you want me to stop now, do you daddy?" you blink up at him, licking your lips, and he grabs your arm, leading you over to his desk and hastily undoing his belt buckle.

"You drive me wild, princess," he mumbles, hurriedly taking himself out, "But you know it."

"Mhm," you smirk wickedly, and lick your lips at the sight of his cock. "Fuck, I want it, sir."

"Real fast," he groans, parting your thighs and grabbing onto one, "And I mean real fast." Just then, the landline on his desk rings. "Jesus," he mutters, and you press the speakerphone button for him, taking your top off. "This is Brackett!" His voice sounds so strong and authoritative when he's at work, and it turns you on. He knows that, so he tries to play it up.

"Sheriff, there's a Doctor here, said he came from Smith's Grove or somethin'. Got a big problem he's gotta talk to you about."

"You don't sound too urgent about the whole thing," Brackett says, moving your hips closer to his.

The deputy's voice lowers. "That's because he seems like a bit of a wingnut.” 

"Can it wait for five minutes?" Brackett blurts in exasperation.

"Only five sir?" You can hear the deputy smirking. Brackett looks less than amused as you giggle and bite your finger.

"That's enough outta you Ronson, keep quiet and tell him--"

Just then, there's a flurry of hard knocks at the office door.

"Sheriff!" It's a British voice. "Sheriff, I really must see you, it's a terrible emergency!" More banging.

"Oh hell," Brackett mutters, looking down at your spread out body on his desk, and you decide to take matters into your own hands. You slip under the desk, and Brackett follows your lead, quickly taking a seat in his chair just as the doctor bursts in.

"Haven't you ever heard of waitin' to be invited in?" Brackett snaps, covering his lap up, and the doctor puts his hands up.

"Sheriff, I'm Dr. Loomis. I'm so sorry for my lack of etiquette but this situation doesn't have very much time for it, I'm afraid."

"Alright doctor," Brackett says, sitting back, "I'm all ears. What's this big problem you've got for me?"

"Well you see, 15 years ago, I looked after a boy--"

As Loomis begins to speak, you put your hands on the sheriff's knees. He chokes a little as you get closer...

"--the devil's eyes. I couldn't get through to him. Now, he is dangerous, and he is coming here! Tonight!"

You swallow his cock down.

"Oh my god," Brackett breathes. Loomis hesitates.

"...Yes well, I'm glad you see the gravity of the situation, to be honest I feared you wouldn't--"

You go back to sucking him, almost gagging as you take him to the back of your throat. You start to dig your fingernails into his thighs through his uniform pants as you bob up and down on his cock.

"--and I believe he will make first for his childhood home."

You lick a stripe across the head.

"Jesus fucking Christ."

"My thoughts exactly, Sheriff." You go up and down, tightening your lips and playing with the vein on his erection, teasing him, working him up to an amazing orgasm.

Brackett white knuckles the desk with one hand, and taps your head with the other. He's close, you can feel it by the way he's thrusting ever so slightly into your mouth. You're so wet, trapped there between daddy's legs choking on his cock, pushing him to the absolute edge. You'd get it in bed later for this.

Doctor Loomis pauses his rant for a moment, eyeing the sheriff's appearance. His eyes are fluttering closed, and his breathing is heavy.

"Are you alright?"

Brackett opens his eyes under Loomis' suspicion.

"Just fine. Just... just fine, keep going." The encouragement is obviously directed toward you, and you go even faster, bobbing and licking.

"--Right. Anyway, I know for a fact Michael will be coming for his baby sister, and the other houses in this town are in danger as well."

Brackett gasps and looks up as you suck him perfectly. "Lord above."

"Indeed, so you agree this is the course of action we must take before he finds her?"

You suddenly feel Brackett's fingers twist in your hair as he comes in your mouth with a slight grunt. His neck strains and he squeezes his eyes shut, then regains his composure. "Um. Doctor, I'm gonna level with you. I haven't heard one word you've said." Loomis looks extremely frustrated. "Now how about...” Brackett holds up both hands, “We try things again, over burgers later. My treat. I know a damn good joint just up the bend here--"

"Burgers?! While we're eating burgers and chatting, Michael Myers will be out turning your little town into a slaughterhouse!"

"Okay--”

“Slaughterhouse, Sheriff!” 

“Alright! At least give me ten minutes to... to right myself, dammit!"

"Very well."

You start to tuck him back up.

"Oh, by the way," Loomis turns with a slight smirk, "The lovely little thing you've got under the desk is a right looker." He winks your way, and you blush. Brackett starts to babble, so the doctor waves it off. "What, you thought I'd never gotten a blowie under the table before? Nothing like it, eh? And she seemed quite the talent, judging by your entertaining facial aerobics." He laughs at Brackett's embarrassment. "You've not exactly got the best poker face, Sheriff." His face gets serious again. "We'll be in touch tonight."

The door closes, and Brackett gets up, running a hand through his hair.

"Dammit... (y/n)... this was not appropriate!" he moans, making sure his fly is done up.

You can see the conflict in his face easing away as you bite your lip and act coy.

"Daddy didn't enjoy it?"

He sighs, looping his arm around your middle and drawing you close. "I enjoyed it, princess. I enjoyed it a lot. Too much."

You smile, cuddling into his chest and tucking your hands into the back pockets of his uniform. "Love you."

His heart melts a little. He can never resist you. "I love you too, babygirl. So much. Now you get home safe." He gives your ass an affectionate little squeeze under the short skirt, and fits on his furry Sheriff hat. "Seems like the punishment for all that'll have to wait til tomorrow night."